Theatre review: A Number

A Number premiered in 2002, a few years after the Dolly the Sheep story and with the possibility and ethics of human cloning still a subject of much discussion. The amount of times it’s been revived since is a testament to the fact that Caryl Churchill created something out of that story that far transcends topical controversy, finding an enduring human side that Polly Findlay’s production at the Bridge explicitly focuses on. This is the third production of the play I’ve seen, and the first not to cast a real-life father and son, although Roger Allam and Colin Morgan have worked together in ersatz father/son roles before. And despite the genetic material there’s something ersatz about the father/son relationships they play out in A Number as well – I told the people I went to the show with to go in knowing as little about it as possible, and would recommend that to anyone planning on seeing it; in which case save this review until after you’ve been as well, as it’s a hard play to write about without major spoilers.

B2 (Morgan) confronts his father Salter (Allam) about a secret he’s only just uncovered: That there are “a number” of clones of him in existence, created out of genetic material Salter gave to a long-dead scientist. His father assures him he’s the original, but it’s the first of many lies.

Salter appears in every scene, and for most of the short play the scenes alternate between B2 and B1, the true original that his father sent into care after his wife’s death. Having given up drugs and alcohol Salter decided that being raised by an alcoholic and a depressive for the first four years of his life had ruined the child, but that he himself could have done a better job raising him. So he got rid of B1 and commissioned the clone, B2, who knows him only as a loving and attentive single father. Morgan differentiates clearly between the two versions, with B1 a furious, frightening (with good reason) figure whose life has been defined by neglect, first at the hands of his father and then when he gave up on him entirely; B2 is by contrast sweet and loving, but over-cossetted and lacking in worldly wisdom. As time goes on and he discovers the extent of his father’s actions he becomes more like the angry B1, but neither of Salter’s parenting attempts seems to have left either of them well-equipped for the world outside the suburban home.

This home is a key part of Findlay’s vision for the play, Lizzie Clachan’s design coming up with an ingenious way to give a 360⁰ view of Salter’s living room and literally put the fourth wall onto a thrust stage. It’s one of the more memorable parts of the production and moves the focus away from the scientific dilemma and squarely onto the human one. Allam’s an unusually avuncular choice of actor to play Salter, which draws attention less to his casual dismissal of human beings, more to the fact that this is his twisted idea of a happy family life. Not that it makes him any less monstrous as the reality is revealed, and seeing this within a week of Far Away makes the similarities between him and Aunt Harper apparent: Both covering up an awful truth with a series of desperate lies to someone who trusts them implicitly, which crumble one by one as they’re countered with incontrovertible evidence.

As ever when I see the play, one of my big questions is whether the “mad old professor” acted alone, or if Salter was actually complicit in the creation of the extra clones of M1, which is about the one thing he doesn’t end up having to face responsibility for by the end. But as well as showing how he’s entirely missed the point of the existential crisis he’s caused, his repeated refrain that they could sue the lab always seems to me a diversionary tactic; plus there’s the unanswered question of how he paid for the “procedure” in the first place. The tight and twisted plotting is just one of the things that makes A Number a great play though, and when Morgan appears in the final role of one of the clones who grew up entirely independent of Salter and his family we see Churchill expertly weave comedy with heartbreak, as the comically banal Michael proves you can’t make up for a loss through DNA alone. And although it remains true that already knowing the twists means the play can never blindside you in the same way as the first time, Findlay’s revelatory production finds new depths that means it comes close.

A Number by Caryl Churchill is booking until the 14th of March at the Bridge Theatre.

Running time: 1 hour 5 minutes straight through.

Photo credit: Johan Persson.