Calling Time on a Tyrant or Five Kinds of Silence

Trapped below the surface of a muddy pond, held down by the tangled weeds of oppression, fumbling for air and clawing towards the surface, finally bursting towards the light of freedom and the dry land of independence, Five Kinds of Silence tells a tale of family life behind closed doors; of two daughters confined by their father, unable to blossom or develop, and a downtrodden wife who has suffered abuse for decades at the hands of her husband. A web of sickening cruelty is woven against a backdrop of psychological trauma, where the women of the family are kept in check by father-figure ‘what I say goes’ Billy (Richard Wing) and forced to live a life of silence and obedience.

Murder: a near-deafening gunshot erupts from the semi-darkness, followed in quick succession by another. Light floods the stage, illuminating a sprawling Billy, gradually seeping blood, surrounded by the women of his family. After initial elation, hysteria and disbelief, the women call the police. As the play progresses and the women are taken into custody, it becomes clear that this is no ‘whodunit’ murder mystery- this was a crime of passion, an act of defiance and necessity against a patriarchal monster who had for decades been viciously ruling his family with an iron fist. After the initial shock, the remainder of the play unfolds rather less dramatically, but just as disturbingly; Billy’s two daughters and his wife are interrogated by policemen and psychiatrists, but the responses they receive expound the terrible reality of life after abuse: these women are shell-shocked, traumatised, yet they continue to harbour a sense of love and duty to their dead father. The idea that they are controlled even after Billy’s death is shown as he refuses to depart, and stalks both the narrative and the peripheries of the stage, leaving his family haunted by their memories: ‘the dead don’t go away… they dance in our dreams’.

The play is not, however, concerned only with the horrors of a dysfunctional family: monologues from the main protagonists demonstrate a tender, more compassionate side to love, seen most prominently through the relationship between Billy and Mary, as we flash back to their youth, where Billy confesses that he fell instantly in love with Mary when they first met. This change of scene enables the audience to relax slightly, and releases some of the dramatic tension which this play is otherwise full of, but the attempts at romance are dulled by Billy’s character, as clearly he saw Mary as malleable- an object which could easily be controlled and moulded into a silent, obedient wife. Furthermore, this rare glimpse at gentleness is juxtaposed by the sordid revelation that Billy has been sexually assaulting his two daughters for years, and sentiments of tragedy, defiance and overwhelming shame are demonstrated admirably by eldest daughter Susan (Laura Cassells) who admits to enjoying the perverse touch of her father, despite being aware of the incestuous connotations of their actions.

Originally written as a radio play, the director of Five Kinds of Silence (Alexandra Rutter) has created, to her great credit, a beautifully woven, desperately sad piece of theatre, which speaks volumes both about the fragility of abuse victims, the psychological trauma which lingers on even after the abuse is over, as well as the strong bonds of loyalty which tie families together, driving daughters to defend monstrous fathers and wives to talk wistfully of lost lovers. The stark simplicity of the set acted as an excellent canvas on which the action could unfold; the repeated symbol of five reminded the audience of the four members of this troubled family, as well as the outside world which turned a blind eye to the horrors within, and the symbolic use of three red coats worn by the women alluded distinctly to ideas of sin, guilt, passion and pain, as well as anger and strife. This multi-faceted, poignant piece of drama was well-worth watching: the superb standard of acting as well as the use of movement and sounds all contributed to a visually dynamic piece which held the audience in rapture for its entirety. Warwick University Drama Society must be congratulated for its sensitive and heartfelt interpretation of a text which centres around extremely difficult subject matters, and cast and crew have fashioned a hauntingly emotional, dark, yet also deceptively tender piece of theatre, one which will surely stand up well against competition in the National Student Drama Festival in April 2011, to which this production has been entered.