The Dance of Death

Marriage à la Mode?

The Dance of Death

by Connor McPherson adapted from the play by August Strindberg

Rhinoceros Theatre Company at the Coward Studio, Hampton Hill Theatre until 22^nd March

Review by Heather Moulson

Being a big admirer of playwright Connor McPherson, I was impressed with his adaption of Strindberg’s The Dance of Death.

An apt dark setting with troubled-looking antique furniture and a piano that creates the right atmosphere; it sets the tone of resentment to come, and gives an aura of genteel poverty. There is also a nice claustrophobic touch, which is not unattractive. The atmospheric set was designed by the talented Junis Olmscheid, who also designed the costumes. This play was written by Strindberg in 1900 and this production has a mixed sense of period. Alice’s dress looks ‘forties and Kurt has near-Nazi attire.

Could the action of this play be period-less? Experienced director Harry Medawar is studious and detailed in his direction, which is enhanced by the effective lighting and sound devised by Patrick Troughton.

Nigel Andrews’ Edgar, the Artillery Captain, is forcefully watchable and darkly charismatic as he plods on with his troubled marriage to Alice, a former actress, played by Fiona Smith with sharp insight. Her unhappiness simmers acerbically, as Alice constantly reminds her spouse of the twenty-year age gap between them, and of her faltered career as an actress.

Sounds of a party, that Edgar and Alice hadn’t been invited to, drift into their house on an isolated island, a situation which speaks volumes about this toxic couple, without them needing to say a word to each other. However, there are plenty of words. And sniping and bickering, with their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary approaching, regarded as poisonous fuel more than a celebration, a concept that keeps up the subtext of deep black humour. Enter the third character, Quarantine Master and Alice’s cousin Kurt, played by highly capable Steve Taylor, who instead of dousing their bitterness, merely fans the flames.

Kurt has his own story and grievances of the underlying villainy of state laws and lost custody of his children. This does not stop Alice goading and flirting with him, reminding him of their past near-dalliance. Kurt’s bitter layers unravel splendidly and drive the other two present to near-destruction.

Edgar does a grotesque and joyless sabre dance before collapsing. Edgar then threatens to cut Alice out of his will. An older man and in poor health, one might wonder if this first act would turn to further tragedy. However, there are many more dark corridors to go down, and other details to take in: children mentioned but not seen, many Morse code messages over on the radio, a huge amount of post, and the issue of Kurt’s son being called to the island.

Alice escalates from spiteful to psychotic in the faster paced second act, and Kurt proposes a sexual encounter … not though before she humiliates him and demands he kiss her foot. After this power game, Alice becomes truly sensuous and the layers peels tantalisingly away.

When Edgar shows his true brutality, bringing Kurt’s anger to a crescendo, and tears apart Alice’s photograph from her glory years, the couple become contented with each other again. The trail of their destruction has merely to be cleared up, so it seems. One realises that this has been one of many, and that this love-hate cycle would continue.

The Dance of Death is another gem from the Rhinoceros Theatre Company, which lead actor Nigel Andrews co-founded. One hopes there will be many more productions from this group of highly experienced artists, to add to this simmering and vibrant piece.

Heather Moulson, March 2025

Photography by Kim Harding