I’d read The Caretaker more than three years ago, and though I had loved it, I kept The Dumb Waiter for another time, for some stupid reason. Finally I took it up today, and wondered why I dithered so long. I adore modern drama, and Pinter is one of my favorite playwrights.
For quite some time, Pinter had been considered a different kind of absurdist dramatist. Less dark than Beckett, but just as effective. And perhaps much more lucid. While Beckett alludes to the bleakness and meaninglessness of life, Pinter’s lines are portentous of concealed, violent meanings in even the simplest, seemingly inconsequential chatter. Quite appropriately, Pinter is now considered a writer in the Comedy of Menace mode. In his hand, the commonplace does not become really absurd – but it reveals daily violence that eludes our numbed senses. Under the garb of comedy, it is silently menacing.
In ‘The Caretaker’, we encounter two brothers, Mick and Aston, who take in a poor tramp Davies. What struck me most was the uneasy, yet strong rapport these brothers shared. Aston’s insecurity, and his eagerness to prove himself useful, afraid that he might be sent back to the institution, coupled with Davies’ malicious about-turn to manipulate them and create a rift between them, all the while covered in the thin veil of comedy brings out one of the themes that runs clear through both these works – the theme of dominance and submission.
The utterly banal exchanges between Ben and Gus in the other play, The Dumb Waiter too are rife with this same chilling theme, this time Gus submitting to Ben, afraid of the latter’s temper. When ultimately we discover who the intended victim is of the hit job that Ben and Gus are to carry out, it is even more underscored by our realization that it is not just Gus, but also Ben who has become submissive.
He raises his head and looks at Ben.
A long silence.
They stare at each other.
This Pinteresque enjoyment of the plays makes it a delightful, yet unsettling read. Instead of being convinced of the meaningless nature of even the most profound acts, it kicks in a paranoia surrounding even the most mundane conversations and glances. Every word and every silence, in Pinter, carries auguries of menace.
When Pinter referred to his famous “two silences” in his works, he clarified that the underlying violence in the silences between and beneath his dialogues was not an indication of the assumed “failure of communication”, but signified that intuitively, those locked in the situation immediately conveyed to each other the threat that lingers over his works, and these two plays as well.
The way the essay ”The Silence of the Subaltern” holds that the silence of marginalized, subaltern groups is not empty, but rather, pregnant with unspoken, unspeakable meaning, the kind of characters chosen by Pinter is important in the sense that it presents the violence of a subaltern life that our civilized tendencies tend to overlook as “uncouth”, instead of recognizing the subaltern status that makes things and people unpredictable and more wary of civilized pretenses of kindness and trust. Both these plays employ characters that survive on the fringes – economically and socially. While Davies is a tramp, Aston a seemingly a psychological patient and Mick, though neither, is impoverished, in the second play, Ben and Gus are both poor, and hit-men.
I have only read his plays – never seen them performed. And plays are written to be played out, rather than be read. I can only imagine what a live play of these would look like. Initially, I’d thought of them as four-star plays. Brilliant, but still lacking in something. But having attempted (and half-way aborted) an amateur rendering of ‘The Caretaker’, I am convinced it wouldn’t be wrong to rate it in full.
The everyday threat implied in these seemingly pointless acts becomes clearer when played out. Although the reading was an enjoyable experience, the amateur acting out made it incredible. I can only wonder what seeing it played out would do to me.