Diary of a Madman

A beautiful young woman in a shimmering silver dress, strappy heels and Jackie Onassis shades sashays across the stage in waltz time. Obsessed with this vision, Propishchin waltzes close behind her, his eyes half-closed in delirium, nostrils flaring as though to smell her. But then, the image evaporates. Right there, Propishchin’s mind breaks. It’s a moment of agonising poignancy, and one that doesn’t exist in the original story as Gogol wrote it. The scene captures the tone of The Street’s production of Diary of a Madman.

It’s extraordinary to think that Gogol’s absurdist depiction of the descent into madness was written decades before either psychology or surrealism formally came into existence. That he created such a sympathetic portrait of a man clearly recognisable today as schizophrenic is testament to his extraordinary skills of observation and as a writer. This production uses the adaptation by David Holman, and expanded by Neil Armfield and Geoffrey Rush for their celebrated 1989 production (reprised in 2010). While other productions generally play out in under an hour (and done badly can be as turgid as hell), this one clocks in at a little over two hours (not including the interval). That extra time is filled embellishment, riffs, asides and jokes, fleshing out the bones of the story, adding humour, nuance and characterisation.

PJ Williams as the madman Aksentii Propishchin is less comic and more naturalistic than Rush’s version, and his absurdities raise more wry chuckles than belly laughs. What Williams does have in spades is sheer compassion and humanity. He plays this flawed and nasty character with such empathy that it’s impossible not to feel for him. Poprishchin is a racist and snob, and in order to keep his ego from shattering he inflates himself in his mind, imagining his lowly clerk’s job copying text and tending quills to be one of the highest in the office, that the Director values him and that he has a chance with his daughter. Proprishchin’s psyche is caught on hooks, on one side by these delusions of grandeur and on the other by a paranoia tinged with a sense of reality of his true situation, trapped in a banal reality with no chance of advancement. The delusions and paranoia move in opposite directions until finally his reality shatters. His madness is custom designed to provide him with exquisite torture.

Lily Constantine is excellent in her three supporting characters, which serve to help the audience understand the reality external to Proprishchin’s mind. The set comprises an industrial staircase with low lights of unnatural colours imparting a surreal feel, and there is constant movement and energy, meaning the pace doesn’t flag. Street’s production has gentle humour, but more than anything else, it’s heartbreaking.

Cathy Bannister

Photos courtesy of The Street.