A Celebration of Harold Pinter

photo by Carol Rosegg

I know the place.
It is true.
Everything we do
Corrects the space
Between death and me
And you.

Harold Pinter 

This solo show of the English actor Julian Sands, directed by John Malkovich, is a deep and personal meditation on Harold Pinter’s poetry. On the bare stage, surrounded by cozy the blackness of The Irish Repertory Theater Sands unfolds the life of Pinter the playwright, the poet the political activist, the friend.

They first started working together in 2005 when Pinter asked Sands to recite a selection of Pinter’s poetry at the charity event in London. Pinter himself was unable to appear in front of the audience due to a medical condition and so began the collaboration, which later gave the fruit of this show. Sands shares his memories about working with Pinter among which is this pearl:

“When he gave me one of the poems I said: “Harold, I think there is a typo here. It says here “corrects” and it surely should be “connects”. “You just read it, one day you might understand”!”

The poem he is referring to is “I know the place” which became a sort of the emblem of the evening and was repeated a few times. “I know the place” as a symbolic epigraph for the show. “I know the place” comes to Sands memory again when he is telling jokes about Pinter’s temper mocking his voice in a friendly manner. Finally, “I know the place” appears as an almost epitaph at the end of the show.

 A Celebration of Harold Pinter is reminiscent of a funeral speech, with the exception of the pain of recent loss. A well-fitted, dark gray suit on Julian Sanders against the black velvet curtains of the theater only makes this impression stronger. There is no “acting” so to speak, Sands is being himself. 

Besides Pinter’s poetry and prose fragments, we hear other people’s stories and impressions of him, including some quotes from the book written by Harold Pinter’s second wife, Antonia Fraser, “Must You Go?: My Life with Harold Pinter”. Sands handles other peoples words with great care, adding them as strokes to the verbal portrait of Harold Pinter he paints in front of us. This is not a ceremonial portrait of Harold Pinter the playwright, but a very intimate portrait of the soul of the poet.