Ship of Fools: No Man's Land (Play)

Thread: No Man's Land (Play) Board: Oblivion / Ship of Fools.

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Posted by New Yorker (# 9898) on :

[NOTE: I hope this is the correct forum for stuff like this.]

Last night a friend and I went to see the Harold Pinter play No Man's Land. I must admit that I went with strong reservations even carrying a book and a small flashlight in case I really hated it. As usual, when attending some event that I think I'm going to hate, I ended up having an enjoyable evening.

So: what does this play mean? What's it about?

I assume it's about being old, losing memory, and being alone and helpless; but beyond that?

My friend, who is older and wiser than I, thought that maybe the visitor, Spooner, was an imaginary friend - an unreal figment of Hirst's imagination.

I ventured that it was about Hirst, growing old, losing his memory, feeling alone, and basically just waiting to die. Meanwhile he is attended by two characters who were deeply invested in the status quo. Spooner was either a new or old friend or just a random person met in a pub who tries to pull Hirst back into life.

("I'm in the last lap of a race that I long ago forgot to run." Or something like that.)

Or perhaps both of these are valid interpretations.

Any other thoughts?

Posted by Welease Woderwick (# 10424) on :

quote:
Originally posted by New Yorker:
[NOTE: I hope this is the correct forum for stuff like this.]...

Threads of this nature usually reside in Heaven so I'll pop it over there for you.

WW
AS Host

Posted by Sir Kevin (# 3492) on :

Not read much Pinter nor has my wife. Last stage play we saw was St. Joan in London a few years ago. Tell us more about it, please.

Posted by Porridge (# 15405) on :

I adore Pinter. Have seen several, and read nearly all, of his plays.

That said, it may be a mistake, in my view, to dig too deeply into "meaning" and interpretation with his dramatic works. After all, theatre is written to be seen and heard, i.e., experienced. Leave the interpreting up to the directors and actors.

One of the things I appreciate most about Pinter is his incredibly sly way of sneaking the utterly outrageous up on us, feeding it to us bit by bit so that we accept the unspeakable as ordinary. I remember after seeing a production of [i]The Homecoming[i] twice how wild and undomesticated he sees so-called contemporary, civilized humanity. I love him precisely because he so precisely exposes the most basic, almost animalistic egocentrism that is also somehow our life force, at least as Pinter shows it to us.

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