Saved

After years of hearing about the famous scene in Saved, and wanting to read it, and maybe even see it, I finally got to do the former, and am here to pass on that this is a remarkable play, not to be missed if it is being presented near you, and is also a great read-who likes working their Cockney dialect?-and has a wallop of a core to boot. Very much an ensemble story, Saved does have a main character, but it's scenes are mostly two-person short/quick dialogues, full of angst and boredom. The scene of infanticide is in the middle and serves as the apex of the nothingness that embodies the lives of these post-war, post-angry young man English, who's pursuits are none, other than occasional work, a night out, eating...you know, the basicness that allows for cruelty, when no valuable purpose is apparent. What makes Saved remarkable though is Len, the central character, who's constant interest and seemingly clueless tenacity turns out to be it's moral core that resounds with a curiosity and compassion that make for a real courageous and bold vision of modern life. Len's involvement in the family, his presence at their home, his dogged attachment to Pam, his lone interest in the baby, his questioning of Fred, his excitment at Mary and willingness to bond with Harry all make for a picture of hope and wonder in the midst of so much hatred, fear, nihilism, desperation, ignorance, boredom. A true classic. Highly recommended. Needs to be seen to be truly appreciated.

If you can believe that people make love out of boredom, why should you have trouble believing that they would kill just to pass the day? This play, a modern "must read/see" classic, takes as its premise that murder and fornicating become morally more or less indistinguishable when people have nothing better to do. The banality of evil? Well, if you can sit at your desk and sign death warrants for 6 million Jews, why not throw lighted matches and burning cigarette butts into a baby's perambulator? Why not try a few stones? London audiences were said to have gasped at the sight of the notorious scene, but in the overall context of the play, it's nothing new. The author sets up the 'world' of these oafs and louts, who have never had a thought in their heads, let alone some sort of complex moral compunction. They're deadheads. The author's play is upsetting not because they throw rocks at kids but because they do it because it was done to them, because...etc., right back to the stone age. Who ever said there was progress?