In a paint-splattered barn-turned-studio, writer Cian Griffin invites us to witness a morning with Lee Krasner, an unsung hero of the Abstract Expressionist movement who also happened to be married to Jackson Pollock. Brought to life by director Jason Moore in North London’s Park Theatre, Lee presents a thought-provoking, if slightly formulaic, exploration of art, love, sacrifice and the prisons we carry with us.
Set 13 years after Pollock’s death, Lee introduces us to Helen Goldwyn’s Krasner as she converses with Will Bagnall’s wide-eyed Hank, a delivery boy at the beginning of his journey into the art world. It is a classic coming-together of the weary veteran and the naive greenhorn, working largely as a two-hander with sporadic appearances from Pollock himself, played by Tom Andrews. There is little to be dissatisfied with as true intentions are revealed and the past is revisited, but equally, this means that there is relatively little to be surprised or truly taken in by.
Ian Nicholas’ set design is simple yet effective, adorning the studio with erratic yet purposeful paint splatters, items and paintings that themselves tell a story, with each prop offering a glimpse into Krasner’s raw emotional state. The Park Theatre studio layout makes the audience feel part of the conversation, as if encouraging us to consider Lee’s oft-overshadowed genius for ourselves.
Goldwyn delivers a complex, powerful performance as Krasner, still pained by the ghost of her husband, a difficult man with even more secrets than she realised, for whom she sacrificed her own ambition and legacy. She imbues her character with a complex mixture of resentment, love and reverence for her late husband and the art world that both inspired and shunned women like her. Meanwhile, Bagnall delivers his own captivating performance to more than hold his own, conveying the optimism, insecurity and latent anger of a young man desperately chasing a ghost of his own. Finally, Andrews’s take on Pollock skilfully captures the painter’s genius and efficiently uses his limited stage time to portray his self-destructive tendencies, volatility and selfishness, with a few quiet moments that hint at his affection for the brilliant woman who sacrificed so much for him.
Despite the interesting premise and talented cast, the dialogue, while clever, humorous and thought-provoking, struggles with uneven pacing and a tendency to swing from being abstract to being slightly on the nose. Sure, there are moments of rawness, revelation and heart as true intentions are revealed and purpose is reclaimed, but Lee feels as though it is building to a climax that just does not quite come. At times, the dialogue feels less like an organic conversation between characters and more like an audience Q and A filled with exposition that slightly breaks the immersion.
All in all, Lee is a perfectly good watch, with great performances, immersive set design and moments of genuine poignancy. It is by no means a bad or even merely average play, but rather a perfectly good experience that struggles to achieve a higher level.
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