Accompanied by the faint smoke of a cigarette, the opening scene of Iris Murdoch and J. B. Priestley’s A Severed Head draws us into the intimacy of its drama. Martin (Joe Wright) and Georgie (Daisy Bates) lie across a sofa in a clandestine meeting, setting the tone for the rest of the play: a series of vignettes surrounding an ever-shifting kaleidoscope of relationships. Nothing is static, everything is in constant motion.

Except for the scenery, that is – which remains unchanged throughout the whole play and sometimes lead to a confusion about setting. Martin’s house holds the same furniture as Palmer’s (Charles Wolridge Gordon). Even the throw across the battered sofa is left untouched, which can be rather distracting when it appears equally dishevelled from one scene to the next. The only change is the introduction of a clay head mid-way through the first half. Whilst relevant to the title, there were times when it felt strangely abandoned. On the other hand, whenever the attention was drawn to the desk in the corner, there it lay quite clumsily – a greater sense of subtlety might have aided its symbolism.

“This production is aided by sheer virtue of its script”

Of course, this production is aided by sheer virtue of its script. Murdoch and Priestley craft a magnificent tale of post-war relationships and the sense of freedom that was beginning to take off in the early 60s. One might expect that the play’s looming memory of Cambridge would hang heavy over this show, but this isn’t the case. Mentions of the city fade into the background of this really quite bourgeois story: there’s even something a little alien to the modern audience about this wine-dealing protagonist and his arts-world friends and companions. It doesn’t detract from the play, but it does cast it in a very different light from what one might expect reading the synopsis.

In the opening scenes, some of the actors get off to a slow start, but for the most part they began to warm up as the play progressed. Not that this applies to everyone: Joe Wright gave a fantastic performance throughout, dominating the stage with his masterful depiction of a husband, adulterer, and jilted lover all in one. Leo Kang, playing Alexander, appears only in glimpses and snapshots – something many of us in the audience came to regret. He was at full energy as soon as the lights fell upon him, and from his effortless first entrance had the audience in fits of laughter.

“Some of the actors get off to a slow start”

Having said this, I felt the lighting design was a little too simplistic to really draw in our attention. For the most part, there was a simple wash over each scene which suddenly blacked out at the end. This stark contrast worked with some of the scenes – especially those finishing on a punchline – but it felt remarkably abrupt at times. Some of the play’s scenes are incredibly short, making it fragmented enough already; the sudden blackouts over-emphasise this, and ultimately became a little too familiar. In an already fragmentary play, it left us with a greater sense of disjointure.

Equally incongruous was the use of music in a single scene towards the end of the first half. There was nothing wrong with the song – it fit perfectly with the scene – but it stuck out as the only moment in the production to be accompanied by any kind of soundtrack. Amidst the drought (and it did feel like a drought at times) this one oasis stuck out a little sorely.

“Wolrige Gordon’s masterful handling of the twist truly repulsed every audience member”

If Honor (Maya Calcraft) wielding a sword against Martin is meant to build tension, it falls somewhat flat. It’s not the fault of either actor, but rather a slow pacing of the combat, where the sword is moved far too slowly for there to be a believable sense of threat. This stunt coordination could have benefitted from more inventiveness, and a slight tweaking of the staging.

Whilst trying to spoil the play as little as possible, Palmer’s shift in character really showed off the skill of the actor, Charles Wolrige Gordon. It’s already impossible to like the character for all his slimy behaviour, but Wolrige Gordon’s masterful handling of the twist truly repulsed every audience member present.

Despite its limitations, A Severed Head is, fundamentally, a good play. Once they’ve warmed up, each actor realises their part well, which makes for a much stronger conclusion than opening. Within the frugal capacity of the Playroom, the end of the play is about as good as could be achieved.

‘A Severed Head’ is showing at the Corpus Playroom from Tuesday 11 until Saturday 15 February, at 7pm.

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