The Print Room has been in the middle of a “yellow face” row. Why, pickets are asking, does a play apparently set in ancient China have an all-white cast? Howard Barker has said that the protesters are over-literal and that his play, In the Depths of Dead Love, is a fable which is “essentially” European. The Print Room declared that although the setting “references” ancient China and “the characters’ names are Chinese”, this is a way of suggesting that the play takes place “not here, not now, not in any actual real ‘where’”. So: China is nowhere, but simply alluded to for spray-on mystery and profundity. And because it looks good: Justin Nardella’s beautiful design – silvery discs on a bare stage – might be desirable decor for a Notting Hill apartment.
The evening is one of stately, arduous argument. An exiled poet presides over a bottomless well, down which people come to throw themselves. Quite often they falter at the last moment. Stella Gonet’s Lady Hasi brings precision and poise to one of the falterers. She wants to stop living, but can’t bring herself to jump. Her husband – William Chubb balances Lord Ghang shrewdly between kindness and threat – may want to help her on her way. Is that love? As the poet Chin, skilful James Clyde is obliged to deliver long speeches dicing up language, turning over synonyms as if you had to have a doctorate in linguistics to spot the difference between “shove” and “push”. It is elegant but arid: after an hour or so in a chilly theatre the well began to look inviting.
