Review: END, National Theatre
Photo credit: Marc Brenner
End at the National Theatre opens with no preamble, no gentle easing-in or introduction, with the first words revealing that Alfie has cancer, and he doesn’t want to continue treatment. This blunt truth lands within seconds, setting the tone for a drama that feels startlingly honest from start to finish.
Clive Owen plays Alfie and Saskia Reeves plays Julie, who represent a long-term late middle-aged couple, who are unmarried with an adult child. Their entire shared life quietly unfurls over the course of one morning.
The production is remarkable in its simplicity. The set feels so real and reflects a home of the average person. Coats slumped on chairs, variety of shoes by the door, photographs and trinkets on the fridge, even the clock keeping real time. It’s a meticulous portrait of ordinary family life, and is the sort of home you could step into, which makes their situation feel all more real.
At first, the couple’s conversations are warm and familiar. They joke about Alfie’s funeral playlist suggestions, humorous experiences, and their past lives.
There’s lightness and humour even as Alfie confronts death head-on. Alfie’s realism clashes with Julie’s almost desperate idealism. This contrast of his acceptance of the situation and his end, versus her refusal to let go and accept his decision, is where the emotional weight becomes more apparent. Julie’s line, “Where you’re from never leaves you”, hangs in the air, and echoes through their memories and their clashing views. Their differing character perspectives and views is so incredibly represented.
The intimacy between them is beautifully rendered. A sex scene, stripped of eroticism, becomes a simple, tender act of love, possibly their last. The idea of “the last time” recurs throughout, the last pot of tea, the last conversation with someone, the last ordinary moment. Alfie acknowledges these endings with a painful clarity, whereas Julie cannot bear to, and is somewhat resistant and shuns away from it. Reeves delivers a devastating turn when Julie’s optimism finally cracks. Her meltdown exposes all the fear she’s tried to bury, suggesting that even when we think we know someone, they may be hiding their true self and feelings. The play demonstrates the power of hope as a shield and a comfort.
Owen’s performance is compelling. He is understated, cynical and vulnerable. Whereas Saskia is joyful and hopeful, and you plead for her character and mourn as she mourns. As an audience member, you feel as though are you intruding in their space and listening in to their conversations. You just want to step in, comfort, and mediate what is happening. A testament to their great acting. Their pacing, body language, and subtle domestic gestures make the drama feel less like theatre and more like real life unfolding in front of us.
End is a quietly powerful piece about love at its most ordinary and hence at its most profound. It is about the unbearable weight of loss, and how we find our way through it in conversation, in compromise and in humour. This is a truly human story told without spectacle, glamour or glitz, and this is why it is so pure, relatable and affecting. A sharp, moving reminder that life’s biggest and important moments may just happen in the smallest and most ordinary of rooms.
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Alexandra Tullah
End plays in the National’s Dorfman Theatre until 17 January, with further info here.
