Does that make it a great hour though? Absolutely not. The central box of Soutra Gilmour's set remains motionless for this one, becoming the huge but claustrophobic bedroom where Andy (Robert Glenister) is confined to his deathbed, bemoaning the fact that his estranged sons won't visit him before he dies.
We also see those sons, with Turner playing their scenes overlaid in the same space when Andy drifts off; Jake (Al Weaver) and Fred (Dwane Walcott) spend all their time having nonsense conversations about imaginary people. Their mother Bel (Bríd Brennan) claims not to know where to find them but she does, they just don't seem to care about their father's impending death; in fact she only even seems able to communicate the fact to them by adopting their own code. A couple the parents once knew (Janie Dee and Peter Polycarpou) seem to have been instrumental to the family all falling out, while a third sibling, Bridget (Isis Hainsworth) is more fondly spoken of and occasionally appears as a kind of narrator figure, but is in all likelihood dead.
Turner helps give the piece a sense of mystery and atmosphere - he may have a drip in his arm but Glenister's Andy seems to be lording it over his domain rather than seeming on his last legs, lending an added question over what's going on - and the cast really get stuck into dialogue which is weird, poetic, sometimes funny and often very beautiful. But the fact remains, Moonlight doesn't really go anywhere, and as the 70 minutes come to a close we haven't got much more out of it than we did in the opening 15. I didn't find it as toe-curlingly unwatchable as the last production I saw but in its meandering nonsense-talk that refuses to come to any satisfying conclusion this is Pinter at his most Beckettian. And obviously I think Beckett's shit, so.
Having directed rehearsed readings for past Jamie Lloyd Company seasons, Ed Stambollouian gets a full production after the interval with the much more entertaining, if not necessarily any more meaningful, Night School. Weaver is inept forger Wally, released early from his second stint in prison and returning to his aunts' (Brennan and Dee) house to find they've rented out his room in his absence. The new tenant is school teacher Sally (Jessica Barden,) and Wally's combination of resentment towards her for taking his space, and attraction to her, leads him to investigate her and the evening language classes she claims to be going to most nights.
More overtly referencing the organised crime that is often implied in a lot of Pinter's work, Night School has a hint of the farcical which keeps it entertaining, and Weaver proves the star of the evening as the bumbling but essentially mean-spirited Wally. With Gilmour's stage this time stripped bare and the cube occasionally revolving to give a sense of his moving through the underworld, Stambollouian's smartest touch is to put at its centre Abbie Finn at a drumkit, dispassionately drumming out sound effects and a rhythm that both oppresses Wally and gives a sense of movement and urgency to a piece that ends up being a rather simple fable. The production is funny, weird and a good first West End showcase for the director, but he and his cast are clearly doing the heavy lifting here - Dee and Brennan having a great time as the cartoonish aunts - in what is an extended sketch that doesn't leave a huge amount to think about afterwards. Both directors have something to bring to the sub-par pieces they've been given but overall this is Pinter at the Pinter's most missable offering so far.
Pinter Four - Moonlight / Night School by Harold Pinter is booking in repertory until the 8th of December at the Harold Pinter Theatre.
Running time: 2 hours 30 minutes including interval.
Photo credit: Marc Brenner.
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