In Breaking the Silence Poliakoff interweaves all his usual dramatic themes: the experience of isolation, exclusion and exile; the impact of memory and family history in the present day; the interdependencies and conflicted relationships in close social groups, but in families especially; the impact of technological change on people; the tension between an individual’s circumstances, aspirations, ideals and personal identity; the nature of creative obsession. Here the playwright builds upon an amazing family tale: the almost surreal experiences of Poliakoff’s own forebears—his Russian-Jewish grandfather, grandmother and father—as they struggled in the aftermath of the Bolshevik Revolution, trying to survive the chaos, starvation and fighting.
The play’s linchpin is his remarkable grandfather, Nikolai Pesiakoff. A totally exasperating, proud, self-obsessed man, Nikolai embodies old-fashioned upper-class manners and aristocratic pretensions. A suffocating domestic tyrant, he is also an inventor. Nikolai is both the cause of their perilous predicament and their only hope of salvation.
The entire play is set in the interior of a run-down imperial railway carriage. Dispossessed by the Revolution, Nikolai is ordered by Verkoff, the new minister of labour, to work on the railways as an inspector of telephone lines. The story follows his progress with this task and what that entails for his small family, Eugenia, his wife, Sasha, his son, and Polya, their servant. Nikolai has no interest in his allotted job. His energies are focused on his obsessive ambition, to invent a means of creating sound to attach to silent film, to bring mass communication to the world. Since his preoccupation endangers them all, the women devise strategies to protect both him and themselves. In so doing, they become aware of their own suppressed personalities and latent abilities.
David Ames made Nikolai’s selfishness believable, no mean achievement. The evolving independence of Eugenia (Lisa Brock) and Polya (Charlotte Eastes), and their changing relations with each other, were cleverly brought out in two subtle performances. Alex Hunt (Sasha) bravely tackled a role which asked him to progress from a naive boy to a tortured teenager—a difficult part for an actor so tall! Mike Stoneham (Verkoff) was just magnificent, stealing his scenes, and Henry Shields and Matt Davis, as the guards, injected urgency into the action.
The director, Maureen Nelson, must be congratulated for giving us a play so intellectually and theatrically demanding. Poliakoff is best served by television, where his occasional wordiness can be supported by the poetry of the visual images. This is harder to achieve on stage, but the set design and the highly evocative off-stage sound effects were memorable. It was an enthralling and stimulating evening.