The Birthday Party is among Pinter’s earliest and strangest works. It deconstructs the conventions of a repertory thriller but doesn’t bother to reassemble them. The setting is a derelict seaside town on the south coast. Petey, a thick deckchair attendant, runs a guest-house with his ageing wife, Meg. She’s a zero-IQ cook whose signature dish is a slice of white toast charred in fat. They have one resident, Stanley, a former pianist whom Meg cossets and mothers like a substitute son. Enter two London thugs, Goldberg and McCann, who invite Stanley to a party as a pretext to punish him for unknown misdemeanours. The whisky-soaked celebrations involve a game of blind man’s bluff during which Stanley’s glasses are smashed, rendering him sightless. The evening ends in confusion with an attempted strangulation, a possible rape and an obscure off-stage torture session. Next day the thugs carry Stanley away for medical treatment, or so they claim.
Lloyd Evans
The Pinter conundrum
Plus: an unnerving, absorbing and deliciously nasty new play at Shoreditch Town Hall
issue 27 January 2018
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