What is she? Not a cop, so… a psychologist? A sociologist, journalist, philosopher? We never know, but Ms Murray is calm, self-possessed, level and persistent. In Part One, Ms Murray interrogates Pierre (Mr Meldrum), the husband. Here, there is not only the feel of the small French village, where everyone knows and suspects everyone’s business, but also the feel of the interrogations that are carried out by Inspector Maigret in which history, feelings and motives are far more interesting than ‘the facts’. There is something quintessentially French (if I may have a broad generalisation) about this, akin to why Agatha Christie’s mysteries have never been popular in France. At one point, an ‘interrogator’ says, ‘I’m not interested in the facts, but in what lies behind the facts’. The text is not a ‘true crime’ voyeur’s trip, nor a police procedural, nor a detective story.
But what we get is ‘pure’ theatre – and acting of the highest order from Jillian Murray and Rob Meldrum. There is no make-up and one minimal costume change. There are no lighting changes, there is no sound design, and no set beyond two hardback chairs in a brightly lit, black painted space.
Laurence Strangio’s production is a fine example of no tricks, no gimmicks and no hiding place theatre. From this macabre event, Marguerite Duras built a fictional exploration of the inner life of those involved: the murderer, her husband and perhaps, on the most unreliable evidence, the victim herself. All parts were found and the body reassembled - except the head. In 1949, parts of a dismembered female body were discovered on various trains that had all passed under a viaduct in rural France. By Marguerite Duras, translated by Barbara Bray.
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