Dear Liar: A Captivating Encounter between George Bernard Shaw and the Original Eliza from Pygmalion
Imagine a chance meeting between an iconic playwright and the muse who inspired one of his most famous characters. This intriguing scenario unfolds in "Dear Liar," where we witness a fictionalized exchange between George Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell, the actress who originally brought Eliza Doolittle to life in Shaw's classic play, Pygmalion.
The story begins during World War II when Jerome Kilty, a soldier in the U.S. Army, sought out the legendary Shaw in London. Reflecting on this encounter years later, Kilty described the elderly playwright as warm and welcoming. Inspired by Shaw's genius, Kilty would go on to pen this compelling two-character play in 1957, which draws heavily from the correspondence between Shaw and Campbell—a relationship that was intense yet never fully realized.
While the brilliance of Campbell may have faded from public memory, and Shaw’s works are increasingly rare in contemporary repertoires, one might wonder: what is the value of revisiting their spirited exchanges? This revival of "Dear Liar" shines through the engaging performances of Rachel Pickup and Alan Turkington, who portray these larger-than-life figures embroiled in a dance of both affection and rivalry.
The first act immerses us in the challenges of staging Pygmalion, with Campbell playfully declaring, "I will be your pretty slut," amidst flirtatious negotiations that reveal the tension and chemistry between them. Shaw’s sharp wit is evident as he snaps, "I will sit here and howl. All I ask is to have my own way in everything." Although their rehearsals stumble due to her struggling Cockney accent and his demanding direction, ultimately, the production finds success.
However, as the narrative progresses, we observe the fractures in their relationship, particularly when each attempts to draw material from their shared history for plays or memoirs. Meanwhile, Shaw’s pacifist beliefs lead him into a reflective journey during his mother’s cremation, contrasting sharply with Campbell's grief over losing her son in the war—a testament to the era's emotional turmoil.
Modern interpretations of Campbell often frame her as a nuanced performer rather than simply a petulant diva. Yet, Stella Powell-Jones’ direction does not always elevate the somewhat antiquated script. Moments of genuine emotion emerge when characters hesitate, wondering how their letters will be received, but there are also instances where the actors seem to merely shout their lines at one another, lacking the subtleties that could enhance the storytelling.
Dressed in calico (with Turkington sporting a playful cartoon of Shaw on his T-shirt), the actors navigate the whimsical cloud-patterned curtains designed by Tom Paris. Pickup, adorned with chandelier earrings that sway with her indignation, ultimately portrays a poignant stillness that accompanies aging; Turkington, with his hands sulkily tucked away, exhibits a vulnerability that makes him easily hurt.
Throughout their exchanges, an undercurrent of desire simmers just beneath the surface—"I absolutely refuse to play any longer the horse to your Lady Godiva!" Campbell provocatively states. Are they merely, as she suggests, "lustless lions at play?" These two cantankerous artists remain enmeshed in each other’s imaginative worlds, although Kilty’s play struggles at times to shake off the dust of its age.
Catch "Dear Liar" at the Jermyn Street Theatre in London until March 7. Will this exploration of Shaw and Campbell inspire fresh conversations about artistic relationships? What do you think? Let us know your thoughts!
