Langrishe, Go Down

There is a quiet desperation about their situation. There are no tears or anger; it seems the only emotion they have energy left for is resignation. So it goes with Imogen and Otto. Their relationship is doomed from the start, and both seem to know it. It is only a matter of things running their course to their inevitable conclusion. It is a matter of how one deals with the implacable decay.

Judi Dench is a delight to watch as the enigmatic Imogen, a woman of quiet strenghs and peculiar defenses. At middle age, she is most probably a virgin and she has moments of prudishness and innocence, yet this is the same woman who revels in her ‘air baths,’ and is electrified by the thought of a man nearly, but not quite, catching sight of her naked body. The first time she meets Otto, as we learn later, she is wearing nothing underneath her raincoat, and her secret clearly empowers her: though he assumes a condescending attitude from the first and attempts to bully her with his superior intellect, her posture, gait and manner show she is completely in control of the situation. She is bored and indulgent. After he goes to great lengths explaining the difference between planets and stars, hoping she will be embarrassed for thinking they could be one and the same, she answers coolly, ‘I see.’

I had never seen a Harold Pinter screenplay performed before, but one quickly gets a sense for his signature style. The dialogue is often sparse and mundane, but the meaning behind it carries loaded implications. Dench and Irons are masters of their craft enough to make the unspoken blunt with their bodies and eyes. Take this simple exchange, after their first meeting:

Imogen Will you care for some tea, perhaps?
Otto That is very kind of you.
Imogen Not at all.

It is obvious from this moment that they have casually and decisively reached an agreement: they will have affair.

Otto is a perpetual student with no real aim and possibly little to offer academically. His thesis, so hopelessly obscure, gives him the security he needs to continue plugging away and accomplishing nothing. He speaks in esoteric non-sequiturs and well-crafted but ultimately meaningless lines, unfailingly condescending, and his manner is not simply elucidatory but bullying. Having ascertained Imogen is an intellectual inferior, she is to him nothing more than a useful object — not without its purpose, but absolutely without sentiment.

Imogen is no victim, however. It is quite clear that there is no commonality nor any real basis of attraction between the two. On their first (and only) date, Otto stops just short of attempted rape and then subjects her to discomfort and verbal abuse at the hands of his Dublin friends. She leaves him the next morning, and could have ended it there. All along, she has control, and she has a choice; she understands the situation perfectly. I think she makes a conscious decision to fall in love with Otto, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps curiosity. But they do not like, are not interested in, have nothing to say to one another — it is an entirely self-willed decision. Imogen has something to get out of it as much as Otto does. But once the choice is made, Imogen truly does fall in love with Otto and is made vulnerable by it; I don’t believe Otto ever does, nor do I believe he is really capable of it.

Imogen is sensuous, earthy, natural — she has a deep desire to nurture. She is driven by gut impressions and emotions. Her affair with Otto is like her air baths writ large: the secrecy, carnality and forbiddenness of it are empowering to her. At first, this sexual awakening brings her to life. She has a purpose to propel her days and an outlet to express her quieted desire. And at first, she can simply ignore Otto’s more self-glorifying behavior and sly insults.

The relationship deteriorates quickly, however, as it was always bound to do. Otto only truly looks at her when he wants sex, and even then, his attention grows less frequent and more violent. Their insults become more spiteful, and the injuries more lasting.