Loss of Power, Corpus Playrooms, Cambridge, 24–28 September
Liesl Hatherleigh has lived in Britain for twenty-five years, and in that time she has come to master the art of British understatement: she knows that when her husband – prospective parliamentary candidate for Oxfordshire South-East, Roger Hatherleigh – tells her she looks “very nice”, it is high praise indeed. Equally, when Liesl arrives home late saying she has had a “trying” day, what she really means is that she has received some earth-shattering news that could tear their lives apart and derail Roger’s bid to become a Conservative MP. You see, Liesl is wanted by the West German government, who suspect her of being a war criminal. It is all a case of mistaken identity, surely – an error in the paperwork that will soon be cleared up. Yet it causes great unease for the couple and their daughter, Sally. Might there be something in Liesl’s past that they will all need to confront?
The writing and directing of this production artfully evoke the early 1970s – a world that will seem very strange to younger audience members, where the landline in a house is the main form of communication and people announce their number to the caller when picking up the phone. Liesl is the driving force of the Hatherleigh family: vexed by the British way of doing things (“always a joke, never a solution!”), she grills Sally on her French grammar and makes sure Roger is well-prepared for his candidate selection evening: yes, the two main challenges for the economy are low productivity and the power wielded by the trade unions – but what does the Conservative Party propose to do about them? Kirsty Smith is superb as Liesl, displaying impressive accent work and conveying intense frustration at never quite being seen as “British enough”, despite having paid her taxes and contributed for a quarter of a century. At the time the play is set, Britain must decide whether or not to join Europe’s Common Market, and there are some knowing winks for post-Brexit audiences in the script.
Photos Paul Ashley
As we get to know Liesl better, we start to find out why she has such strong views on the pressing issues of the day: if she is in favour of bringing back the (recently abolished) death penalty for the IRA’s troublemakers-in-chief, it is because her own father was killed by members of the French Resistance when they blew up a bridge over the Loire. Yet why is she so insistent about the idea that Sally must become a doctor, and not a nurse? Why is she so überzeugund, so forceful? Are there more revelations to come – and if so, how will the family react to them? Can a person’s past really make them lose the power they have over the present?
Imogen Nancekievill is wonderful as Sally, swearing (then apologising) when she feels she is being treated like a child, and there is some deft work by the supporting cast – Becky Bloom, as the young Liesl, and Chris Jeffery as the young Roger. Thanks to Sarah Ingram’s canny directorial choices, the scenes from Liesl and Roger’s younger years do not impinge on the main set, yet we are able to see just how much Liesl’s past impinges on the Hatherleighs’ lives today, as she is forced to confront it in the most literal of ways. The intensity of these moments is only heightened by the intimacy of the Corpus Playroom as a performance venue.
A power-cut (a common occurrence under Harold Wilson’s beleaguered government) provides an opportunity for a finely-judged, emotionally climactic scene that unfolds by candlelight. This scene, in particular, showcases Sean Lang’s remarkable talents as both actor and playwright, and he and everyone else involved in this production should be very proud of what they have achieved: their Loss of Power is our gain!
