The Caretaker by Eric Grode For many theatergoers in 1960, The Caretaker served as an introduction to Harold Pinter's unmistakable mix of ennui and imminent violence, of erudite wordplay and atavistic power games. His potent voice still resonates, even in a production that sometimes takes the easy way out. The largely satisfying Roundabout revival features eye-catching work by all three actors, but only one performer, the riveting Kyle MacLachlan, consistently finds the sting beneath the flash. The action unfolds in a shabby West London house inhabited by Aston (MacLachlan), a somber, unemployed man who collects discarded furniture with the vague hope of someday doing something with it. As the play opens, Aston has taken in an homeless man named Davies (Patrick Stewart) under somewhat mysterious circumstances, an arrangement that grows far more complicated with the arrival of Aston's sinister brother, Mick (Aidan Gillen). Davies quickly becomes a pawn, albeit an increasingly confident one, in the competition between the brothers. Like his often-cited forebear Samuel Beckett, Pinter finds room for low comedy within his bleak world view: Davies favors a pair of soiled long johns right out of vaudeville, and virtually the only prolonged interaction among the three characters is a slapstick game of hot potato with the old man's bag. But don't look for the slamming doors of farce here. As directed by frequent Pinter collaborator David Jones, this trio makes a habit of slipping on and off John Lee Beatty's spooky, weathered set as silently as possible. The characters in The Caretaker often don't know if they're alone or if anyone's listening to them. That indeterminate state of affairs carries over to their oblique, occasionally tedious conversations. What we have, essentially, is an old man incapable of staying on one topic, a young man unable to process thoughts and a younger man who takes sadistic delight in keeping everyone off balance. Not terribly conducive to meaningful communication, which is how Pinter likes it. Faced with such circumscribed language, Jones and the actors rely heavily on physicality. The most striking example of this is Stewart, who convincingly embodies a man with decades of tough nights under his belt. A burst of grunts and gasps escapes his lips whenever he takes his shoes off, and simple questions about his past trigger a wide-eyed, fearful defiance. At times, however, the physical shorthand drowns out the nuances of his character. This over-reliance on technique is exacerbated during Stewart's scenes with Gillen, who attacks his unpredictable character in a rather predictable manner as Mick harasses and threatens Davies. Between Gillen's preening-young-sociopath routine and Stewart's cantankerous-old-codger bit, their scenes together bring out the worst in each other. Luckily, MacLachlan's flawless performance as Aston keeps the actorly craft from spinning out of control. He doesn't do much physically beyond a slight limp, and nearly all of his dialogue is delivered in an even-keeled, tentative meter. But his befogged manner draws from a deep well of confusion and sadness, giving the play's shifting allegiances an emotional heft that it would otherwise lack. Aston's lengthy Act II monologue, in which he describes the shock treatments that blunted something crucial in him, expands upon the most harrowing sequence from Pinter's earlier The Hothouse. The only time emotions push through MacLachlan's expert rendition is when Aston describes how his thoughts became jumbled and suspect. The terror of being locked up, the damage to his body, even the possibility of death--none of these compares to the permanent clutter of his mind. Jones' staid direction is largely free of such clutter, and he shows great skill at using every corner and recess of Beatty's set. The pace slips into a wearying sameness every now and then, and several confrontations near the end lack spontaneity. But he has a confident ear for Pinter's elliptical, ominous voice. And performances like MacLachlan's remind one just how indelible that voice can be. The Caretaker By Harold Pinter Directed by David Jones American Airlines Theatre Click here to read the original article. [Link may/may not be active]