Some plays are largely character led, where the psychological makeup and breakdown of the protagonists dictates the work’s trajectory; others are led primarily by theme, by an overarching idea that pulls the disparate pieces of the work together. Of course, the best playwrights do both, and do it seamlessly. Chekhov, with his cast of characters who have fully realised inner lives but who also operate under a deeply considered thematic cosmology, comes to mind. Much modern playwriting sits rather uncomfortably between the two modes, doing neither convincingly. Simon Stephens’ Heisenberg is a case in point.
His characters are clearly defined, if a little off kilter. Single mum Georgie Burns (Kat Stewart) meets butcher Alex Priest (Peter Kowitz) – is there something slightly Dickensian in those surnames? – outside St Pancras train station in London, mistaking him for someone else as she kisses him on the neck. She’s like that, though; highly unpredictable and compulsive, she forces a conversation on the much older Alex and eventually gets him to take her out to dinner. He’s not so much a stickler as a man content to stay still. He’s never married, and lives a routine that is comfortable precisely because it remains unchallenged.
But the “meet cute” and the attraction of opposites, a la The Rosie Project, isn’t only what Stephens has in mind. Enter The Theme. And in case we miss that, The Title. The actual Heisenberg was a German theoretical physicist, whose most famous theory had to do with the measurement of particles: namely, that you can’t measure the position and the velocity of a particle at the same time. This becomes, with his seemingly scant knowledge of science but propensity to overwork a metaphor, the overriding schema of the play. Georgie is constantly on the move and Alex stays still, he never getting anywhere and she getting nowhere fast. Get it?
If this synopsis sounds a little reductive, then so is the play’s use of complex scientific theory for its psychological frames. Alex and particularly Georgie seem constrained by the playwright’s thematic intentions; they are constantly doing and saying things that make no rational sense. And while it’s true that people do act irrationally, neither Stewart nor Kowitz succeed in making them credible. There are some interesting ideas buried in the script – Alex questions the very existence of personality, and rails against the cultural obsession with “feelings”, at one point exclaiming “I don’t feel! I think.” – and the occasional gem that shocks because it’s lacking elsewhere. A speech about a grieving widow concludes with the line, “he crumpled, and then folded himself right into his coffin”.
Director Tom Healey never manages to find a groove for the work, or convince us of the central relationship; his blocking is so hesitant it makes the whole thing feel impacted. It begins badly; Stewart is highly mannered as this bombastic, slightly unhinged woman who’s most likely a pathological liar, and Kowitz seems merely bemused when he should clearly be running a mile. But it does improve and eventually they settle and produce a few moments of genuine charm and poignancy. He falls into a boyishness that doesn’t diminish his dignity, and she gives us a couple of moments of genuine, void-inducing grief. But the play wants its happy ending, and neither actor escapes the sentimentality of the conclusion.
The production itself is pared back and rather utilitarian. Anna Borghesi’s set and costumes are functional, without evoking much. Bronwyn Pringle’s lighting is similarly unobtrusive, although it does add some depth and angles to the visual palette. It’s possibly deliberate that London and New Jersey feel exactly the same, but if so, it’s playing against the script. This kind of simplicity works wonders when you have compelling characters and high stakes, but it’s exposing here.
Stephens is a prolific playwright, and MTC have had major success with him before – his adaptation of Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime was a hit and his Birdland was stunning – but this one feels ill-conceived. Mature audiences won’t be surprised by the age gap we are supposedly meant to be shocked by, and the lazy science metaphors are likely to weary rather than provoke. Stewart and Kowitz are fine actors, and they might improve as the run continues, but if you want to see particles collide and not just move about, you should seek out a different theoretical physicist. Or a more consistent playwright.
