I recently saw a tape of this from a BBC4 transmission and was completely transfixed from start to finish. I can't begin to offer any explanation of what it's about exactly, or talk with any self assurance about the work of Harold Pinter, but can honestly say that this is like nothing else I've seen. Certainly, for me, the best thing Pinter's written. Even the Homecoming struggles to compete for sheer relentlessness malevolence and florid verbiage. Gielgud and Richardson are pure magic, with great support from Michael Kitchen (a far cry from Foyle) and Terence Rigby. The script is surreal, unsettling and hilarious. Tangental is possibly the best word I can come up with, for Pinter generally in fact, with the characters and context continually shooting off in new directions, so the mind is constantly readjusting itself to what it's being asked to understand. It's often said that Pinter is heir to Beckett (and Joyce even) but this is more real than Beckett and possibly has greater emotional depth. Nowadays people would probably say "multi layered" but "multi dimensional" is possibly more accurate. The exact relationship between the characters remains ambiguous to end, although some clarity does emerge in the last few scenes. To use a much used analogy, it's like listening to an hour and a half of free jazz. An acquired taste, therefore, but for some seeing this will be a truly momentous epiphany.
