John Clare: The Public Reviews

People often take refuge in music or literature, losing themselves in the melody or words to escape their daily concerns. For John, though, he's gone further than most, his troubled mental state causing him to believe he is both musician Neil Diamond and 19^th century poet John Clare.

The parallels of a modern day psychiatric patient choosing Clare as his alter ego are well thought through. Clare himself fought a lifelong battle against mental illness, balancing the fact his poetry was read in the highest circles of society while he clung to his farm labourer roots. Clare's struggle with his illness is perhaps as well known now as his poetry; however, Tony Ramsay's play is more than a biographical piece. Mixing the modern day with historical recollection we learn not just about the ‘peasant poet' but a wider look at depression and mental health treatment.

Central, though, we get to examine the power, both positive and destructive, of loss and love. For John, both the modern day patient and his historical counterpart, the creativity of poetry/lyrics providing a refuge from the pain of deep loneliness and loss. There's also a deep sense of loss in John's doctor, Melody, desperate to keep her private life separate from her practice but finding a surprisingly open confidante in her patient.

There's a deceptive subtlety in Ramsay's play and director Ivan Cutting's production that draws us into the heart of the story. The overlapping time periods could easily confuse but they are handled with skill, adding just enough detail layer upon layer to build up the bigger picture.

With a company of just three to populate the two time zones, characters need to be clearly delineated and there are no problems here; characters shift time zones, often in front of our eyes with a mere addition to costume but are always clearly defined.

Louisa Mai Newberry's dual roles as Clare's devoted wife Patty and the later day John's doctor are well observed, both women sharing heartache despite the centuries difference. Henry Devas' opportunist film producer Rafe provides the catalyst for us to learn more about Clare as a man but it is Richard Sandell's performance as the dual Johns that captures the attention. There's a fragility to both characters that makes their illness all too real and credible. Sandell's performance is perfectly pitched, subtle movements and emotions suddenly cascading into mania-fuelled outbursts before subsiding again. Never overplayed or sensationalist, this is a performance of pure emotion.

On paper the subject may not seem compelling but Eastern Angles meld the historical with the modern to create a piece of real emotional power that not only causes reflection on the issues of mental illness but also drives us to rediscover one of the region's leading poetical exponents. A gripping and powerful production.

Glenn Pearce