Review of The Goat: Not Baaad at all

I personally consider Edward Albee to be among the foremost American playwrights of the 20th century, so it was with high expectations that I attended The Goat or Who is Sylvia?, one of his more recent plays, which I was less familiar with. The play was characteristically dark—a twisted bedroom comedy, reminiscent of his masterpiece Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf. As in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, the story centres on a married couple who are, to all appearances happy, but who have a festering secret threatening to tear their life apart. And, as in much of Albee’s work, the focus of the play is on the amorphous nature of human sexuality and the power it has to destroy, as well as to please.

The performance was, over-all, a good one, although it was belied by several pitfalls. Mandarr Brandi, directed The Goat well, although there were times when some things in her control could have been improved. For instance, the opening of Act I—a charming and humorous scene establishing the domestic bliss of Stevie and Martin Gray—was sped through rapidly and clumsily, to the scene’s detriment. On the other hand, Mandarr’s decision to have her actors literally tear apart the set at the climactic moment of the play was a courageous and highly effective one.

The Goat possesses a small cast—an asset when all the actors put on an impressive performance—but the performances on the night varied. On the impressive end of the scale Edie Deffebach, as Stevie Gray, was outstanding. She captured the nature of a blissfully happy upper-middleclass housewife perfectly, but it is to her nuanced performance as an enraged wife that I pay tribute. Every new inflection of her mood and speech increased the tension in the most realistic depiction of a domestic quarrel I have ever seen on stage.

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Peter Stanley also put in a very good performance as Martin Gray, the protagonist. Peter had a difficult role to play, but he managed to retain the sympathy of the audience throughout—no mean feat considering the disturbing revelations of the play. I cannot claim to know Peter, but having seen him in The Goat I would struggle to imagine as anyone other than the character he played (minus an odd tendency or two).

Joseph Cunningham was not on top form however. His performance was somewhat overblown and blustering, to the extent that he threatened to overpower the subtle scenes in which he performed. His mannerisms were poorly studied, in marked contrast to the subtle performances of his fellow actors, while the contrived American accent which he put on—an accent akin to few I’ve heard before—was at times difficult to listen to. Peter Stanley was permitted to keep his English accent for the play and it was an odd decision on the part of Mandarr to have Joe perform in an accent which damaged his scenes.

The final member of the cast—Jamie Jones, who played Billy Gray—put forth a serviceable performance as the traumatised son of Stevie and Martin. His acting seemed a little forced in the first few scenes, but when his big scene came he performed well.

The Goat is an intelligent play, full of intelligent dialogue, and if there is one thing I would fault this production and its director for, it’s the recourse to shouting. There is a lot of rage in this play, but anger can be a difficult emotion to share with the audience. Bellowing on stage can be a turn-off, rather than a shocking statement and while sudden outbursts can have extraordinary dramatic effect, too much shouting will detract from the moments when it is really needed. As for the play itself, The Goat is intended to be shocking, but in practice it was not as shocking as Albee may have intended it to be. There is little resolution in the end, and the audience is left to reflect on an untidy mess, rather than a complete story. Nevertheless the story was well told and, in general, well performed and for that reason I would have recommended it to a St Andrews audience.