REVIEW | The Homecoming, Young Vic
Lisa Diveney and Robert Emms in The Homecoming at Young Vic. © Manuel HarlanWritten by Franco Milazzo for Theatre & Tonic.
Disclaimer: Gifted tickets in return for a review. Young Vic has an excellent pre-show information for content and production warnings here.
Amid this story of sexual powerplay and politics, arguably the best of Harold Pinter’s early plays is still a ruggedly solid work even if it is slightly miscast and more than slightly outdated.
Into this combative North London household of four males (retired butcher Max, his two sons Lenny and Joey and unmarried chauffeur brother Sam) comes third son Teddy and his wife after six years in the US. The arrival of this new woman causes eruptions - verbal, emotional, physical - which expose the misogynistic machinations and mentality at the heart of this family.
Jared Harris is monumental as the patriarch with a walking stick and a schizophrenic temperament; whether being sweet and charming or a nasty bastard, he is a mesmeric figure. Without a doubt, Harris is the finest British actor without a knighthood to his name and effortlessly portrays the eminently unlikeable but pitiable Max. Even when hobbling around, his animalistic prowling looms over whatever else is going on.
Opposite him, Joe Cole is a curious choice as Lenny, the son who, like his father before him, also deals in flesh (albeit of the human variety) and sees his sister-in-law as one more potential addition to his brothels. Cole has the looks of a leading man but the solid and wooden acting ability of an Ikea wardrobe. His general tonal range is about that of a microwave and his mannered accent is more Danny Dyer-as-estate agent than how a real North Londoner speaks.
Director Matthew Dunster had an unexpected megahit with 2.22 A Ghost Story, a schlocky horror show of a play which has already appeared in five different London theatres. Here he re-uses the same technique of a loud aural jolt to break up the scenes; instead of an ear-piercing shriek, this time we are treated to a blast of jazz that can probably be heard in New Orleans.
In an effort perhaps to make the work more relevant to modern audiences, Dunster has gone for a more comedic interpretation with mixed results. The laughs diminish the sheer brutality of some of the language used but dumb down many of Max’s nuances and turn him more into a cross between two Sixties codgers: aged grumbler Albert Steptoe and indignant racist Alf Garnett.
Even more damaging is that the chuckles erode the deep ironies and deeper context underlying the toxic masculinity in this work. The Homecoming’s deliberately black heart has been replaced with knowing winks, nudge-nudges and dog whistles to the incel brigade. The end result is a demonstration that, even after the #MeToo movement and the countless campaigns to empower women, there are still men out there happy to put on plays that would likely appeal more to Jordan Petersen and those of his worldview than a general audience. Somewhere out there, Pinter is furiously spinning in his grave.
At Young Vic until 27 January 2024.
★ ★ ★
