A couple of weeks ago Drama on 3 broadcast The Boy at the Back, an English translation of a play by Spanish writer Juan Mayorga, a name hitherto unknown to me. It was an intriguing story of a disillusioned literature teacher encouraging a promising student with his creative writing. All very worthy, except that the writing comes out of the boy's project of insinuating himself into the house and family of a schoolfriend, snooping around in a voyeuristic way, spying on the parents' conversations and pursuing the mother. The play at the same time brings us into the house of the teacher and his wife, who runs a struggling art gallery for trendy work which the lit teacher scoffs at.
The play is extremely clever: it examines the sources and effects of literature, upsetting the liberal humanist piety that reading and writing are good for us; it exploits the fourth wall convention of theatre, whereby we are all voyeurs of another life (this element is less strong in radio, of course); the relation of teacher and student is a witty variation on the Pygmalion myth; and throughout there are satiric observations of education, modern art, middle class life, sport obsession and business. The cleverness is anchored in a simple narrative, coming from the boy Claude's visits to the house, and charged with a sinister atmosphere as it becomes clear that this is not going to end well.
The play has been adapted into a film by Ozon, Dans la Maison, centred on a great central performance by Fabrice Luchini as the teacher, Germain. The play seems to move across to France quite comfortably - indeed, the running references to Flaubert and Un Coeur Simple made it seem naturally gallic. This time around, the teacher did seem almost incredibly foolish in his 'encouragement' of the pupil, and as ever with school dramas I wondered where all the time for these one-to-one sessions with the budding Flaubert was coming from. Claude is not sure how to end his story, and it is a doubt apparently shared by Mayorga / Ozon, as the piece tries out a number of conclusions before going for a particularly dark dénoument which once again tested credibility. Listening to the play I enjoyed not knowing how much of the boy's narrative was real, how much a fantasy - there seems to be an analogue in the imaginary numbers discussed in the maths sessions - but in the film things were played more literally (though the device of having Germain pop up in the middle of scenes was amusing and effective). And although Claude stands out from his abysmal teenage peers for having a smidgeon of intelligence, it was hard to see that his factual observations mixed with the odd caustic remark really added up to the great gift that his teacher sees in him. Indeed what seems to be admired is a total absence of empathy or compassion, quite the opposite of Flaubert's imaginative operations. Odd that we are told so little of the boy's home background, which prompts these longings to belong to a normal family. But in all a nice piece covering many topics neatly, and an enjoyably acidic alternative to more sentimental treatments of creativity and the mentor-pupil relationship.
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