Ballet of Death
THE NATIONAL HEALTH
by PETER NICHOLS
In a brief two decades, the young British dramatists who railed angrilyat the Establishment have been succeeded by caustic young playwrightswho acidly mock the welfare state. Underlying that mockery is a sournagging resentment of the present sorry state of England. Thus it is nounintended irony that The National Health is set in a hospital ward forthe dying.
Death takes no holidays in this ward; it is only impeded by intrusive,intensive care. As one inmate puts it: "They keep you busy here. Theyeven wake you up to give you a sleeping pill."
One patient is dying of cancer, but all of them are terminal cases. Oneis a hopeless alcoholic; another is drowning in a morbid, pervasivemelancholia; still another, a boy of 19, has not only totaled hismotorcycle but also his mind. Several are old, old men for whom lifehas become the cruelest possible bondage. The hospital can offer themeverything except dignity.
Constant messengers of hope assail them. Periodically, an old biddy popsin to pass out leaflets and verbal pep pills: "Good morning. I have amessage for you. It's that God gave his only begotten son thatwhosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlastinglife." Moments later, the ballet of death begins again as white screenswheel and circle to shield in final decorum the bed of a dying patient.
Silence ought to be the motif of such a room, or so one might think.Instead, it is raucous with gallows humor. There is probably not anoutright comedy on Broadway at which one could clock more smiles,snorts, giggles and guffaws. Quite apart from the patients' sometimesgrisly jests, the response of the audience obviously has complex,uneasy, psychological roots. Laughter is a wonder drug by which mananesthetizes his consciousness of mortality.
The cast is exemplary. To cite one player would be to slight another. Noone in contemporary theater orchestrates mordant laughter with a surerhand than Playwright Peter Nichols. His forked tongue darts ateverything, but his compassion is deep and pure.
Those who saw A Day in the Death of Joe Egg know that he confected humorout of a situation in which parents were coping with a mongoloid child.One miracle deserves another, and Nichols has performed it again in TheNational Health. -T.E.K.
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