Harris allows Tolstoy’s cautionary tale to unfold with quiet intensity. What comes through clearly is that it is Pozdnyshev’s underlying misogyny that creates his compulsive jealousy leading to tragic consequences. Although we see events through his eyes, we realize fairly soon that he is an unreliable narrator whose reason has been so clouded by prolonged selfish behaviour that he cannot look outside himself. His aversion to music is not surprising for a man without harmony in his soul.

Natalie Abrahami’s sensitive production builds to a thriller-like climax. Chloe Lamford’s impressive set re-creates the narrow confines of a train compartment, with its low wooden-slatted ceiling and luggage nets above the seats, while Carolyn Downing’s locomotive sound suggests an inexorable destiny with the volume increasing in the dramatic finale. Dan Stafford-Clark’s film and Ian William Galloway’s projection evoke Pozdnyshev’s agonized memories, with a transparent screen sometimes allowing us to see voyeuristically his wife and friend behind embracing (in his heated imagination) and playing music.

Holding the stage virtually single-handed for almost an hour and a half, Hilton McRae gives a superb account of Pozdnyshev’s increasingly irrational sexual jealousy as his love towards his wife turns to violent hatred. Although he precipitates the destruction himself, we also feel the pathos of a broken man for whom music will always act as a guilty reminder of his crime. Though only glimpsed sporadically, Sophie Scott and Tobias Beer (as his wife and friend) are heard much more in their splendid performance of the Kreutzer Sonata, which makes a passionate aural backdrop.

share Tweet