Beckett’s “Roughs for Theatre,” I and II, written in French the late 1950s, have been problematic since their publication in the 1970s; that is, whether or not they are abandoned sketches or “finished” plays has been something of an issue both for Beckett (who resisted initial publication) and his critics. But to plan an evening’s theatre around them, and in London’s West end, in the midst of tourist season, borders on the audacious if not the foolhardy. Such was the task that a brash but passionate group of producers set for themselves to fill a one-week gap in The Arts Theatre’s summer schedule. The idea of unfinished plays for an unfinished theatrical season, and in the house where Waiting for Godot had its British premiere, makes a certain kind of symmetrical and historical sense. Whether or not it makes economic sense, or even aesthetic sense, is quite another matter. But Mike Bennett, better known as a critic of rock music, a playwright, especially of musicals like “All Cloned Up,” and a record producer with 10 gold discs to his credit, joined Associate Producers Kate Plantin and Ben Mika, first to convince rocker Steve Harley, frontman for Cockney Rebel, to take on Beckett just before he was scheduled to open for the Rolling Stones’s tour in Warsaw and St. Petersburg, and then to schedule a West End premiere of the “Roughs.” Gari Jones, who cut his teeth as Assistant Director to Harold Pinter (on “Celebration” and “The Room”), would direct Harley as “A” in both plays and Bennett as “B,” again in both plays, for consistency’s sake, no doubt. But the letters are of course only place markers for names that failed to appear (although the characters address each other by name in “Rough II’), hence the prevailing sense that the “Roughs” remain sketches that lack finish.

Despite the superficiality of alphabetical consistency, the two roles could not be more contrasting. Harley’s blind musician of I (although he demonstrates no musical talent on his fiddle) and his dominating chartered accountant of II, where his range of facial ticks, bodily eccentricities, and verbal play is as appealing as those of anyone who has ever played this role, are polar opposites. Bennett moves from the overbearing, potentially violent, sexually suspect cripple in I to the less than organized, unctuous milquetoast of II. Even for so short an evening’s theatre, barely an hour’s playing time, such radical contrast of characterization requires an interval—to shift gears, to change costumes, and, admittedly, to sell ice cream.

Of the two, II, the most Pinteresque of Beckett’s plays, has a variety and subtlety of emotion that eludes I, as, of course, it is the more developed of the two “Roughs.” In I, the most Yeatsian of Beckett’s plays, the duo seems stuck in an unmodulated shout almost from the first, the potential tenderness and frisson too often lost, as Harley seems overly fond of modeling his gestures on Edvard Munch’s “The Scream”n and Bennett plays all with the fortissimo of a rock concert, but he hits his 11 so early that he leaves little room for the next level of amplification. The violent tableau vivant that serves as denouement for this play, something of a coitus interruptus, needs to be juxtaposed against some pianissimo. The logic of blind groping, “A” of “B” and “A” for his fiddle, remains unconvincing, in motivation and blocking, while the shift from magical appeal of distant music that draws “B” to the spot at the opening to the sadistic threat of “B”’s stealing “A”’s fiddle is almost lost, in part because there is no magical music to speak of. “Rough for Theatre, I” is a fragile playlet that needs more attention than it’s gotten. Jones seems to allow his stars to indulge their excesses, however, as they wear their emotions on their tattered sleeves. That said, we might also note that the play is produced, indeed showcased, so infrequently, that almost any high quality production, as this one surely is, is a treat.

If the evening needed redemption it appeared after the interval with a remarkable “Rough for Theatre, II,” whose production values and timing were consistently superb. Jones seems to have learned something from Pinter, or at least appears more comfortable in the Pinteresque world of II. In their re-assessment of a “problem,” an abstraction, the two bureaucrats are insentient to the human, a frozen, poised “C,” played stonily by Charles Kennedy. We learn almost nothing personal of these three, much less, say, than we do of the two in I, save that “A,” called Bertrand in the play, once belonged to the Band of Hope, a youth temperance movement, and that “C” has a morbid sensitivity to the opinion of others and that he is in this flat, not his own, to mind a pair of lovebirds, one of whom has since expired. If its death has put “C” on the edge, “A” and “B,” the latter called Mervin in the play, can find nothing in “C”’s life to recall him. Overall, one might complain that the scene was too harshly lit by lighting designer Linda Edwards, “C” in particular appearing less apparitional, less a trick of moonlight, perhaps, than he might have been, at least to the taste of this reviewer. But overall the production and the performances of the two actors were stunning.

Such a theatrical evening of Beckett slights is, inevitably, a gamble, the producers relying perhaps too heavily on Harley’s fan base and on Beckett’s literary reputation in a post centenary year, so I’m sure that it was no surprise that the project did not seem to pay off at the box office. More’s the pity. I saw two performances, opening and closing nights, the latter by far the better of the two, but the stalls were barely half full, the circle closed entirely for both. Tourists evidently preferred Spamalot and Little Shop of Horrors to esoteric Beckett. And yet huzzas to this band of brave producers and valiant actors willing to take a chance on such unlikely material. Clearly the performances and the performers would mature and perhaps mellow a bit as they gained confidence. One can only hope that they get the chance, that this experiment fuels rather than dampens their literary ambitions, and that the production has a life beyond this short run (10-15 July, 2007).

—S. E. Gontarski