The power gulf between Carol (Grace O’Connell) and John (Jerome Pride) is immediately visible as the stage area lightens revealing John on the phone, his large easy chair behind the desk, and Carol hunched uncomfortably in a smaller chair on the opposite side. He continues to talk despite her unease. He, we learn, is on the verge of getting tenure and hence a raise making possible the purchase of a new home, the fulfillment of his dream as a successful provider and as a safe personal haven to work on his ideas. A conspicuous success in his world.
She, we learn, feels marginalised and “stupid” in this milieu where other students appear to feel comfortable. Earnestly desirous of academic success in John’s subject, she has difficulty in understanding the content and is driven to desperation by John’s self-proclaimed and self-righteous maverick thinking about education, a concept she has been led to value. His approach, which he views as encouraging students to question, is experienced by Carol as baffling and undermines her capacity to think.
Whether or not the audience interprets John’s gestures – a pat on the shoulder and an attempt at a hug when Carol is most distraught – as sexual harassment depends completely on their point of view, their own prejudices and values. When John eventually responds to Carol’s quandary (she is, after all, an example of the tyranny of education he critiques) by offering to give her an A if she returns to discuss the course content with him, is he, as Carol complains to the Tenure Committee, offering her high marks in return for “visits” to his office? Is the problem that Carol and John have entirely different frameworks of reference? He accommodatingly paternal as his educational philosophy appears to warrant, she baffled once more and low in self-esteem, seeing no other possible motive than sexual exploitation? Or does Carol, in fact, show the audience a “true” reading of John’s paternalism?
What is the role of the mysterious group, possibly Political Correctness, which advises and instructs Carol throughout the complaint process? She appears to increase in sophistication and self-assuredness, abandoning lightweight sneakers for solid leather boots, her briefcase begins to take over John’s desk and, at last, she settles triumphantly in John’s easy chair. John crouches in the small chair as much out-of-depth in Carol’s new world as she was in John’s old world. The concluding action is as compelling as it is appalling.
Oleanna is an absorbing play of ideas brought to thoroughly engaging life by the two strong performances, supported by a clever, economical mise-en-scene. Thanks to stage manager Elsa Cherlin, lighting designer Tim Edmond and sound designer Marcus Longford for a confident, effective staging.
