Of Mice and Men

Steinbeck's novella portrays a smart but uneducated man, George, as somebody patiently ready to assist his childlike family friend Lennie to survive a life that would otherwise cut him down with cruelty in the harsh Depression era.  Together, they perform unskilled work at one ranch and another, leaving once the work is done or Lennie's failure to control his own strength gets them into  trouble too serious for George to talk their way out of.

Set on a Californian ranch with some already problematic relationships, the story ultimately tests George's self-imposed duty of protection to the limit.

It was evidently Steinbeck's intent that the patient, slow-spoken George of the novella remain in the play.  In this production, George is rather less patient and more vehement; this evidently directorial choice is one that doesn't seem quite consistent with George's actions.  That aside, the production worked very well, all characters well defined despite their number, a blues guitarist setting the mood for each act, and a single versatile set becoming the outdoors, a bunkhouse, a single bedroom, and a barn by the simple magic of furniture removalism.  Articulation was very good, with the sound balance perfect, and imaginative lighting added much to the play's sombre, harsh, and communal moods.  Laurence Coy was particularly engaging as the one-handed Candy, and Andrew Henry was utterly convincing as the “simple”, vulnerable, fatally clumsy Lennie.

The play, though not a happy one, is well worth seeing.  Despite the slight mismatch between George's intensity and his actions, its lessons in humanity and inhumanity remain more relevant than ever.  If its course doesn’t devastate us as Steinbeck intended it to, we nonetheless find ourselves in shoes very different  from those we wear outside the play.

John P. Harvey

Image: [L–R] Anthony Gooley, Andrew Henry, and Andre de Vanny, in Of Mice and Men.  Photographer: Marnya Rothe.