★★★★★
‘Do you always tell the truth?’ Yes, you might answer. ‘Really? Do you always tell the truth?’ Then you start to second-guess yourself. ‘Do I tell white lies? Or maybe murkier lies?’, or perhaps you have been living for so long with lies that you can no longer distinguish them from the truth.
The Forest is acclaimed French dramatist Florian Zeller’s latest work, translated by his trusted partner Christopher Hampton. With a cast including the former Eighth Doctor Paul McGann, Lost in Space’s Toby Stephens and Line of Duty’s Gina McKee, I was expecting a strong performance—but I wasn’t expecting the brilliant dissonance between modern rom-com/sitcom and the agonising psychological drama which it sometimes perforated. Side-by-side you experience death, professional success, agony, fatherhood, infidelity, and devotion.
The stage is set, as per Zeller’s vision, with three distinct areas: a reception room, where the ‘Man’ lives with his wife, a bedroom, where he conducts his illicit affair, and an office, which represents his inner psyche. So, as the play starts with the scenes separated quite clearly, the audience meet two versions of the Man. Man 1 (Toby Stephens) is the loving, devoted husband and father. Man 2 (Paul McGann) is a husband drowning in an affair he can no longer control.
It’s helped by the fact there are similarities in build, features, manner and dress between Stephens and McGann; yet, there’s no definitive chronology. We’re provided information by Man 2 that the affair with the Girlfriend (the impressively tantalising yet testing Angel Coulby) has been going on for at least a year. We don’t know, however, if Man 2 is a younger version of Man 1, or an act of mental dissociation by Man 1, quasi-imagining that his illicit endeavours are happening to someone else. He’s clearly living two different, clashing lives which strain to coexist.
The staging becomes ever more important throughout the drama. Zeller’s vision is brought to life excellently by director Jonathan Kent, and credit must go towards the lighting, sound and costume designers for providing both the colours and the darkness demanded to create this mini immersive world. The supporting cast of Daughter (Millie Brady), Male Friend (Silas Carlton), Female Friend (Sakuntala Ramanee), Young Man (Eddie Toll) and Man in Black (Finbar Lynch) are all vital to this world-building. The Man in Black is the most mysterious of all, though, as it is initially unclear what he represents.
As Act One ends and Act Two begins, we relive what we have just seen. This time in a slightly distorted version of the start of the previous act. Moments are cleverly edited to make us feel lost and confused; chronology is not important in this drama, but rather provides the audience with an acute fogginess so we too can experience the clashing nightmare which envelops the central Man. We’re also provided with some further nuggets of information about how the Man deals with this enveloping nightmare. We discover that he isn’t as guilt-free as one might suggest. Act Three repeats this same trick, this time presenting a more distorted version of Act Two, culminating in a clashing climax where all three sets are used simultaneously.
As Dominic Glynn outlines in the programme, ‘in Zeller’s plays, as new information surfaces, characters lose their footing, and audiences no longer know where they are’. This holds true as a more than accurate way of preparing someone to experience The Forest.
Tiny details can catch you off guard. Telling glances, silences, and reactions are all delivered with such detail by the cast in a way that allows you to understand their position then and there. When a scene in Act One differs ever-so-slightly from Act Two, you question whether you recollect Act One correctly, or whether the version of events presented then was even true. Just as Zeller demands that his Man (and audience) ponder whether they tell the truth, he deceives and plays with you through his script.
The Forest is more than just a drama that demonstrates the dangers of infidelity. It’s a representation of the darkest hell, with patterns of repetition never-ending—a nightmarish existence for a Man who can’t escape the memories of his past. When time, place and identity collapse, it’s difficult to remain sane and stable.
Words by Matthew Prudham
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