Initial charm and wit fade into boredom
Released in the aftermath of 2016’s referendum, Ali Smith’s Autumn was celebrated as the first ‘post-Brexit’ novel, having its finger firmly on the pulse of modern British society. Eight years on, and in a country no less divided, Harry Macdonald attempts to project Smith’s tale of love and division onto the stage. Unfortunately, a promising start – relevant, warm, funny – gives way to an overlong production that is more likely to leave the audience checking their watches than ruminating on divided society.
The story shifts between young Elisabeth’s unlikely friendship with her aging neighbour Daniel, and their reunion years later reading to him in his care home. Rebecca Banatvala and Gary Lilburn’s chemistry shines as their characters bond, with moments of care, charm, and the thrill of new friendship. No less compelling is a sinister undercurrent playing out across these scenes, manifesting in an offhand ignorant comment, or oblique reference to wider political storms beyond the friendship.
As the narrative progresses, however, this charm and compassion fade to leave little in their place. Whilst seeing Autumn’s central characters develop – Elisabeth is now a lecturer in History of Art, Daniel had a pop hit with a song about a summer spent with his long-lost sister – is intriguing, these revelations are buried in overlong scenes that don’t go anywhere. An extended sequence about an artist connecting Daniel and Elisabeth adds little to the plot or their relationship, and an imagined conversation between Daniel and his aforementioned sister lack interest or anything memorable.
Thus, what is initially Autumn’s greatest strength ultimately serves as its downfall. The meandering conversations and sense of atmosphere making the first hour so compelling descend into mere dry, unfocused scenes. Daniel and Elisabeth’s early conversations take in topics such as etymology and the nature of reality, having the feel of smuggling intellectual discourse into mass-market entertainment. This lends an interest and authenticity to each characters’ portrait. But when these characters are no longer the focus, the meandering feels lost, and the academic discussion overly fiddly at the expense of engagement.
A recuring motif throughout Autumn’s 100-minute runtime is bureaucracy: a newly-erected electric fence complete with officious security guard; the care home fussing about Daniel’s payment plan as he lays comatose; a stubborn GP’s receptionist who won’t register a new patient. Nancy Crane is excellent as these unco-operative officials, bringing Python-esque lunacy – especially in a hilarious scene involving a passport photo and a self-important postmistress, which could be ripped straight from Flying Circus. But these scenes, too, become fewer and farther between, rendering Autumn a play of two halves despite the lack of an interval. The first hour is charming and witty, but the final forty minutes feel stuffy and overlong. The second act may well play out effectively on the page, where reader want to get inside the characters’ heads, but on the stage it lacks life and energy.
Perhaps Autumn’s second half would be more impactful for someone who has read Ali Smith’s novel, but as standalone theatre this is a disappointing pay-off to a promising start. Giving such a low star-rating feels harsh when the first hour is so enjoyable (and felt like it was heading for four stars), but a dry, dull and lengthy conclusion means this is a play which cannot be recommended.
Autumn plays at the Park Theatre until 2nd November, with Thursday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.