Party Time (Pinter's third play with the word "party" in the title, following The Birthday Party and Tea Party) is up first, and within a few minutes of the house opening, the cast takes the stage, mingling, talking with each other, just as the audience does as they find their seats and get comfortable, one almost a reflection of the other. The characters all gravitate toward the drinks table, as would we all. Then, drinks in hand, they form their own little groups – two women on the couch, two men standing upstage right, the others remaining near the drinks table upstage center. The set is very symmetrical (with an end table on either side of the couch, and an arm chair to the outside of each table, and so on), but warm, dominated by wood and with red carpets. Though there are many classic touches to the set (an hour glass, the older furniture), we are in modern times, which is apparent when one of the women on the couch slips her cell phone into her purse. And if it weren't for the necessary announcements before the show (and some idiot's phone still dinged), the play could just emerge from the action already in progress. It is the two men upstage right (Paul Marius as Terry, Larry Eisenberg as Gavin) who speak first, and while they do, the other characters remain frozen in shadow. That will continue throughout the play, as the action shifts from one group to another. The conversation is about a tennis club, and there is a good deal of humor, part of it coming from them not quite connecting, until Dusty (Michelle Ghatan) joins them and tries to turn to a serious matter, asking "Did you hear what happened to Jimmy?" And though she too gets sucked into the conversation about the club, we in the audience are drawn to her and are now keeping a closer eye on her, for we feel that she's the one that will perhaps speak for us. She is the one who most directly addresses the danger outside, and Michelle Ghatan does an excellent job in the part.
Though the story takes place at a somewhat upscale party, there soon are clues that something horrible is happening on the streets, something these people are doing their best to ignore. At most, whatever it is is an inconvenience to them, as Melissa (Mouchette Van Helsdingen) makes clear when she enters and talks about the roadblock. "We had to say who we were," she says, exasperated, as those at the roadblock had the audacity to not be aware of who she is. Mouchette Van Helsdingen is wonderful there, by the way, quite funny. And soon we hear a helicopter flying overhead. And while it becomes clear from the conversations that these people are largely, or at least feel largely, innocent, or rather removed, from the troubles outside, we get the sense that they are, in fact, responsible, much in the same way that all the people who voted for Donald Trump are responsible for the concentration camps, the war with Iran and the high gas prices here and now. Sure, they might be baffled at receiving the blame, but they are responsible nonetheless. This production gives us a lot of laughs, as when Fred (Isaac W. Jay) tells Douglas, "I admire people like you," and Douglas (Christopher Louis Parker) replies, "So do I." And the way Charlotte (Brenda James) delivers the word "Appalling." Yes, everything we love about Harold Pinter's dialogue is present here. But even as we're laughing, we sense something frightening bubbling up beneath the words, a strange threat of violence. This cast does a phenomenal job of both making us laugh and also putting us on edge, turning in captivating performances. And some of our discomfort (perhaps all of it?), we discover to our own chagrin, comes from a fear of how we ourselves might act in certain situations. When the party's host reveals that a roundup is happening and that normal service will return, it is again difficult to keep from thinking of what is happening on the streets of our cities right now. And isn't there a part of us that just wants things to return to normal?
The set remains the same for The Lover, and so for a moment we can't help but think that those who came before have met with a terrific end. Sarah (Susan Priver) enters first, and, like the characters of Party Time, makes her way to the drinks table. When Richard (Ron Bottitta, who was excellent in last year's Corktown '39) enters, there is silence between them for a moment. But soon he casually inquires about Sarah's lover. The matter-of-fact delivery is startling, and we can't help but wonder what he really feels about the situation. As for Sarah, when she describes her afternoon as "marvelous," she is positively glowing, and we have a much better idea how she feels about the arrangement. She is hilarious in that moment. It's interesting that when they discuss some of the details, they focus on the blinds, the light, and the heat, rather than what actually took place. It is a relationship in questions, if not in question, and we begin to get the sense that this is some kind of game for them. He asks her, for example, if she thinks of him while with her lover, and upon learning that she does, says, "I'm rather moved by that, I must say."
We soon learn that he too has a lover. She refers to the woman as a mistress; he refers to her as a whore. "I'm well acquainted with a whore," he tells her, which receives a big laugh. They are engaged in an interesting verbal game. And, again, it is a game of questions. It is Sarah's turn to ask, "Richard, do you ever think about me at all when you're with her?" At that moment, he seems to gain the upper hand. What's particularly interesting is that Richard asks Sarah, "What does he think of your husband?" rather than "What does he think of me?" It is then that we get the idea that the role of husband is also part of the game, and thus so must be the role of wife. And, indeed, it is as if these two are always playing at their game, and seem happiest when fully invested in their roles. That is, until Richard decides he wants to put a stop to it, which sets Sarah at a panic. Are they closest when playing the game? And as is the case with Party Time, this play might have us questioning some of our own games, our own roles. How much do we require certain games in our lives? And why? And if those games take over, who are the real us? There is a wonderful moment when Sarah tells her lover that he and her husband have so little in common, and another intriguing moment when Sarah tells her husband that their arrangement was not to question. Both Susan Priver and Ron Bottitta are absolutely riveting, turning in fantastic performances that keep the audience fully engaged.
Sex, Lies And Harold Pinter runs through April 26, 2026. Visit the theatre's website for the complete schedule. There is one brief intermission between the two plays. The Odyssey is located at 2055 South Sepulveda Blvd. in Los Angeles, California. There is a free parking lot in front of the theatre.
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