Harold Pinter was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature this year, but you won’t find a single script of his at our local booksellers: I inquired last night at the biggest branch of the biggest chain. Is it a reflection on the South African readership? Or on our booksellers? I wonder if any of our theatres are considering staging any of Pinter’s work?
I saw The Birthday Party on the West End at the Duchess Theatre a few months ago, with our “ex-own” Henry Goodman playing Goldberg. I first saw Goodman in 1982 – when I was in High School – as Groucho Marx in Groucho at Large and as Howard Hughes in Seduced – both upstairs in the Baxter studio. As a kid one’s suspension of disbelief is all encompassing – and Goodman was incandescent. He then left Cape Town for the RSC and left me with two benchmark memories about performance – which were not surpassed for ten years – and the experience of which is perhaps why I’m blogging here right now. Of course, no actor can live up to this kind of recollection – idealised in one’s mind over time. As Goldberg, Goodman gave a solid world-class performance, but it wasn’t sublime. His accent kept shifting, and there was too much studied technique, in contrast to Eileen Atkins (as Meg) who was awesome – giving me a new benchmark.
