Playwright: Edward Bond
At: Mary Arrchie Theatre Company at Angel Island, 735 W. Sheridan
Runs through: Feb. 25; $18, $20, $22
Contact: 773-871-0442
BY CATEY SULLIVAN
Playwright Edward Bond called Saved a piece of irresponsible optimism. At first glance, nothing could seem further from the truth. But look deeper—if you can bear it—into the acts of loathsome emotional violence and almost unthinkable physical brutality that unfold in drama's 13 rapid-fire scenes.
Amid the nihilism and dead-end despair of South London in the early 1960s, Bond has inserted a character who tries—unflinchingly—to be good. To do the right thing. To act with a basic level of human decency, even as the world around him is exploding with the kind of excruciating barbarity that caused Saved to be banned when the English Theatre Company first tried to stage it in 1965. ( At the time, theaters were required to get a public-performance license before opening shows to the public. Officials denied Saved the license, but producers got around the rule by declaring the Royal Court Theatre a 'club' and staging the show for 'members' instead of audiences. )
At the unkillable heart of Saved is a murder so casually savage that it's almost impossible to comprehend. That humans—creatures capable of art—could fall to such a level of inhumanity is truly awful to ponder. And the banality with which the scene plays out makes it all the worse. This is the scene that no doubt caused the licensing board to condemn Saved, and numerous critics to dismiss the piece as a work of sordid beastliness. But there are two murders that shape Saved. The first one we don't see, and involves the death of a young man when a bomb exploded in a park. It's a murder just as meaningless and cruel as the one we actually see. Apparently, those who condemned Saved because of the violence it made them see were fine with the violence they didn't have to actually look at.
In the world of Saved, life is defined by senseless killings, empty sex, unemployment and petty sadism. That makes Len ( Robert Fagin ) all the more remarkable. He keeps plugging away in the face of lashing unrequited love, a dead-end job and a near total lack of anything that one could consider soul-sustaining. His stubborn unwillingness to fall into the abyss of gray, uncaring nihilism that consumes nearly everyone around him is Saved's great revelation. He's been saved.
Director Richard Cotovsky has crafted a word-log grit-and-grime in the Mary Arrchie production, and assembled an ensemble cast that works together seamlessly. Thad Hallstein's dun-colored set nicely reflects the dour world that has trapped the denizens of Saved. Saved isn't easy, but it's powerful.