SOMEONE WHO’LL WATCH OVER ME
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Two political prisoners, a kindly, soft-spoken African American doctor and a brash, swaggering Irish journalist, are joined by a third prisoner, a prissy English university professor, in their bleak Beirut cell. Chained to the walls of the prison, the three try to stave off their feelings of fear, misery, and helplessness by exploring the universal human bonds between them. As their unseen Lebanese wardens keep watch through the metal grating of the prison door, the men comfort each other, sing, tell stories, and engage in wonderfully loopy role-playing games that pass the time and allow them to maintain their courage and their dignity. In the second act, after the American has departed either to freedom or to his death, the Irishman and the Englishman delve further into the realm of the imagination–pantomiming sports matches and escapes via a flying car–to avoid succumbing to insanity or absolute desperation.
McGuinness’s play is an existential parable with strong echoes of Beckett and Sartre that concentrates on the need for human companionship and diversion. The prisoners have no idea how or why they have gotten where they are. They do not know what will happen to them once they get outside the prison, but they are dreadfully fearful of it. They are happiest when they are pretending to be elsewhere, pouring each other imaginary drinks, watching imaginary movies, and driving imaginary cars.
As usual, Northlight’s production values are top-notch, but the ultimate effect leaves the audience feeling much the same way McGuinness’s characters feel about each other. At first there is animosity toward these strangers and frustration with what Edward calls “the boredom, the boredom, the bloody boredom.” As the play goes on, you begin to warm to these characters, to understand, appreciate, and sympathize with them. Given the choice, however, you might prefer to flee.
