Writer: Tom Kempinski
Director: Richard Beecham
Updated to reference iPads, citalopram and Excel Spreadsheets, Tom Kempinksi’s 1980 play returns to London. There’s another change, too, in the Orange Tree’s production: the doctor in this two-hander between patient and therapist is now a man, a decision which gives the play new dynamics. But despite these revisions, Duet For One, based on the life of cellist Jacqueline du Pré seems a little old-fashioned with its focus on the talking cure.
In a role made famous by Frances de la Tour and, more recently in 2009, by Juliet Stevenson, Tara Fitzgerald now becomes the famous violinist who is forced to stop playing when she is diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. Encouraged by her husband, a celebrated postmodern composer, Stephanie Abrahams seeks help for the vague depression that has plagued her since the diagnosis. The doctor, a stern and serious Maureen Beattie, suggests that Stephanie may be harbouring suicidal urges.
Perhaps, with the end of her musical career, such thoughts of ending her life have entered the violinist’s unconscious, a journey possibly to be taken later when the symptoms become worse. But Kempinksi’s script is more ambiguous and it could be that the doctor is putting such ideas into Stephanie’s head. Likewise, it’s intriguingly unclear whether Stephanie has ever doubted the future fidelity of her husband until Dr Feldmann suggests it.
Feldmann tells her patient that she should sublimate her musical talents into other projects. The doctor seems genuinely disappointed when she learns that Stephanie has no children and, if Stephanie does have regrets about her childlessness, the doctor picks at the scab until it bleeds, This is tough love taken to its extremes.
Over the next two hours the patient and doctor argue and fight: a battle of wills. They go round in circles, much like Simon Kenny’s revolving stage that they sit on. The pace is as slow as the revolutions, but fortunately the acting holds our interest. Fitzgerald seems born for the role and fully embodies the initially phlegmatic musician. Fitzgerald gives her character spikiness and privilege, wittering excitedly as the doctor impassively looks on. There’s something quite heroic about Stephanie’s resistance to the questions she asked.
As the doctor is now another woman, any sexual tension between the pair is removed and so, too, the power dynamic which played out when the doctor was a man. Despite the doctor’s hallowed position of always being right, it is matched by Stephanie’s fame and talent. Their contest takes place on a level playing field, underlined by the two similar chairs that the actors sit on. This doctor doesn’t loom from behind a desk.
Beattie’s doctor seems driven by jealously. When Stephanie talks about a happy childhood making chocolates with her father, Beattie looks down at the floor. At first she just looks bored with her patient’s endless blather, but perhaps she has darker memories of her own parents. Even though she charges £300 an hour, Beattie is bitter when she contemplates Stephanie’s comfortable life with a house in St John’s Wood, and another in Tuscany. Beattie prefers her patient unhappy.
Only a live violinist – on this night Kath Roberts – who appears between scenes, adds some much needed theatricality to what is otherwise a conversation. Richard Beecham’s direction is sturdy and solid, but you can’t help but wish something else would happen. Perhaps the revolving stage could spin more wildly, or the actors could stand in different places to add variety to a play that is nothing but talk. This is theatre with a capital T.
Runs until 18 March 2023
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