Adapted from the original 1937 novella, Of Mice and Men follows “bindlestiffs” George Milton (William Rodell) and Lennie Small (Kristian Phillips) as they seek casual farm work in Soledad, California during the Great Depression. George is smart and strapping, but restless, while Lennie is mentally disabled, large, and physically strong. Together they dream of one day living “offa the fatta the lan’” and tending to rabbits.
How many reviews and articles must have been written about John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men? Its enduring popularity is unlikely to be stemmed anytime soon, particularly not if future performances are anything like this one.
Loneliness is a persistent presence in the play, colouring the majority of interactions. Candy is lonely, so he seeks stability; Curley’s wife is lonely, so she seeks conversation; Crooks is lonely, and he seeks camaraderie, and none of the farm hands have partners or social lives outside the ranch. Where loneliness is most apparent is in its absence, however. In an era when intimate friendship and American hyper-masculinity seem to clash and clang in their intersection, attention is consistently drawn to how odd it is that George and Lennie travel together. Eyebrows are raised.
The affection and comradeship between Rodell and Phillips is credible, but it is in the darker, twistier moments that they display the focal relationship so beautifully. Flashes of frustration in Rodell’s face, a turn of Phillips’ lip or a clenched hand — it all lends credence to the rapport and the characters are imbued with a real sense of shared history. Each performer sells the final scene with striking restraint.
Generally the company is strong, though the accent work is variable. Happily, Rodell and Phillips are consistent throughout, but the same cannot be said for everyone else. Crooks (Dave Fishley) and Curley (Ben Stott) both deliver generally impressive performances, but their accents take a little while to settle. Stott faces a particular challenge as his character enters dialled up to 11. It is a shame that the opportunity to complicate this petulant character is missed.
Of Mice and Men ruminates on subjects seemingly so wholly American. Yet its allegorical properties for this contemporary moment should not go unobserved. Lennie and Bruce are migrant workers, desperately seeking work and shelter, met with misunderstanding and suspicion. Theirs is a much more intimate, comprehensive story than we are used to seeing (or reading) about such figures today. The Brechtian staging (a handsome design by Liz Ascroft) emphasises this interpretation, merging the aesthetic and the political.
Go to this play expecting to learn about farm-hands in the Great Depression, and you may come away feeling like you’ve learned a little more than that. (You will also have the opportunity to see a truly adorable dog called Arthur.) ★★★★☆ Will Amott 10th February 2016
