DAILY TELEGRAPH - 5/26/94
Review by Charles Spencer
Garlanded with awards, Tom Stoppard's Arcadia has transferred from the National to the
beautifully refurbished Haymarket Theatre.
The play, with its discussion of scientific ideas, and the new mathematics of chaos theory,
fractal geometry, iterated algorithms and the second law of thermodynamics, might sound like an
insufferable exercise in intellectual one-upmanship. But it is an astonishing tour de force. Has
there ever been a play which took more delight in abstract argument?
But science is only part of the story. Arcadia, set in a handsome country house in Derbyshire
(a grand classical design by Mark Thompson) and ranging across the chasm between 1809 and
the present day, also includes a fascinating discussion about the changing fashions in landscape
gardening, and a lively running debate on classicism versus romanticism which vaults effortlessly
across the decades.
But Stoppard is the most genial and welcoming of writers. Having done all the work himself,
he gives the audience the flattering impression that we are just as clever as he is. He expounds
ideas with amazing grace, and succeeds in persuading even an innumerate physics 0-level
failure like myself that it is quite possible to grasp ideas on the cutting edge of scientific
knowledge.
Best of all, he has managed to present this discussion in the framework of a gripping literary
detective story that fizzes with jokes and intellectual joie de vivre. It's a real pleasure to have
your mind given such an invigorating workout, marvellous to see a writer swinging such a
impressive sledgehammer against the wall that divides art and science.
The scenes set in the present day concern a popular historian, Hannah Jarvis (Joanne
Pearce, fine but not quite as touching as Felicity Kendal in the original production), and an
unscrupulous, sneering academic, Bernard Nightingale (Roger Allam, in terrific form), who are
both conducting research at Sidley Park. Hannah is interested in the hermit who used to inhabit
one of the follies in the picturesque garden, Nightingale thinks he is on the verge of discovering
why Byron left England so percipitately in 1809.
The audience, however, has direct access to the past, and in alternating scenes we are able
to watch just what was going on in 1809 when the Sidley Park garden was being redesigned. In
this way Stoppard offers fascinating glimpses of the way the past anticipates the present, and an
often hilarious demonstration of how easy it is for the present to misinterpret the past.
But what struck me most forcibly about Arcadia on second viewing is its combination of a
supremely elegant dramatic structure with a depth-charge of powerful emotion. The play appeals
just as strongly to the heart as to the head.
There is a surging excitement in its demonstration of ideas. But we also come to care about
the 13-year-old child prodigy, Thomasina Coverly (a lovely performance from Lucy Whybrow),
who foresees some of the great discoveries of modern science, and about her louche and
likeable Byronic tutor (the excellent Edward Atterton). Their relationship is observed with
tenderness, and when we finally learn what became of them tears prick the eyes. For Stoppard,
the realm of the intellect may be a kind of Arcadia, but death lurks there too.
In the haunting final sequence, in which the characters seem to dance to the music of time,
this most eloquent of writers holds his tongue, and Trevor Nunn's production achieves an
emotional resonance that goes too deep for words.
I have never left a new play more convinced that I'd just witnessed a masterpiece.
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GUARDIAN - 5/25/94
Review by Michael Billington
Few plays gain more from a second viewing than Tom Stoppard's Arcadia. At the Lyttelton
one was swept along by the play's intellectual energy and emotional dynamic. Now it has
transferred to the Haymarket with a new cast, one begins to see the work more dearly: as a
meditation on mortality and on the unpredictability of human behaviour and the natural world.
From the start of his career, Stoppard has been haunted by the opposition of determinism
and free will, order and chaos. Here he seems reconciled both to human transience and what
Lear called "the mystery of things". In the 1809 part of the play, tutor Septimus reassures pupil
Thomasina, grieving over the burning of the library at Alexandria, that nothing is lost in the cycle
of history: "we shed as we pick up, like travellers who must carry everything in their arms, and
what we let fall will be picked up by those behind."
We see how that idea pays off in the present day when Thomasina's doodlings on the chaos
theory and the second law of thermodynamics are being developed by Valentine, her distant kin.
But Stoppard's point is that there is a special exhilaration about living in a time when Newtonian
determinism is under fire and "when almost everything you thought you knew is wrong."
Other ideas crowd in: classicism versus romanticism, historical reality versus academic
interpretation. But even if Stoppard is occasionally guilty, like Thomasina, of "doing more than
was asked", his fine play is buoyed up by its inquisitive humanism. And Trevor Nunn's production
sits better in the more intimate Haymarket.
In the present, Joanne Pearce as the seemingly hard-hearted Hannah, a popular historian
reminds us that even Enlightenment values have an emotiona1 base. Equally, Roger Allam as an
ego-tripping, fame hungry Sussex academic shows that his soul can still be stirred by great
poetry. And, in the past, Edward Atterton as Septimus and Lucy Whybrow as Thomasina,
touchingly show how intellectual enquiry is illuminated by romantic attachment. All of which
contributes to Stoppard's moving central theme: the way human character echoes the
determinedly unpredictable nature of the universe itself.
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