Review: The Doctor, Theatre Royal Bath – ‘A powerful and important play’

This show contains detailed discussion of suicide methods, abortion, bereavement and Alzheimer’s. I warn you because I’ve seen such storylines shock friends to muted tears; I don’t want that for you. But it also addresses the less physical – yet confronting – issues of privilege, discrimination and inclusion; not least religion, race, and gender.

It is a treat to see Juliet Stevenson in such a meaty – and surely, exhausting – part. She plays Professor Ruth Wolff, a somewhat icy founding director of an Alzheimer’s Institute. She’s a dazzlingly good medic, Jewish by birth and a woman. Stevenson leads a large, outstanding cast, who all play against either their visible/assumed gender, race or both. Why? The reason is challenging, clever and ambitious.

The Institute is heavily dependent on private and government patronage. Over half its medics are female. There’s a large Jewish donor base. Christian medics are a minority. Political backbiting and ambition are rife.

There is a crisis. Unknown to her, a 14-year old is dying of sepsis caused by the complications of a pharmaceutical DIY abortion (pills off the internet). Ruth has been with her all night. A man appears, says he’s a priest sent by the parents – who are on a plane. He’s here to deliver the last rights. Ruth refuses, because (a) is he who he says he is?; (b) nothing in the notes says the girl is a Catholic; and (c) revealing that he’s here will alert her to her likely death, and create stress, collapsing her system and killing her.

The priest insists on access. Did Ruth push him or just touch his shoulder as he pushed towards the girl’s room, as he recorded her refusals? Colleagues disagree – some are with Ruth, others against. And suddenly, during the fracas, the girl learns she is dying, panics, and dies.

From here, we explore the ethics and the cultural conditions in which we live. Should a Catholic only be treated by a Catholic? Was Ruth anti-faith? Is the father reasonable to pledge to ruin her life because he believes his daughter is now in hell? Should the Institute’s Board hire for colour, gender and faith balance, or hire the best medics? The controversy is leaked and escalates, before a public shaming and conflation of race, religion, abortion ensues. And all the while, Wolff insists she is no more than a doctor, keeping her (very relevant) private life a secret.

Juliet Stevenson as Professor Ruth Wolff in The Doctor – photo: Manuel Harlan

Yes, at times, it is a bit ‘Radio 4 discussion show’. Robert Icke – who wrote and directs – tackles these important questions with much even-handedness. He shows the challenge of belonging to – and refusing membership of – community groupings. The privilege inherent in brushing away ancestral crimes. The conflict between ethnic and faith communities who have all suffered. And the exploitation of this pain, for personal and institutional gain.

But the debates dominate over the drama, and the suicide storyline may be an issue too far, not necessarily earning its thematic place. But it’s credit to a very fine cast – and good direction – that my episodes of boredom didn’t last too long. (I know a very good crisis comms adviser who’d slash those PR scenes considerably and ramp up the pacing!). Does it explore enough? Should it take ‘a side’? That I am still scratching my head over this is a sign of its success.

Each and every cast member was superb. It feels as though a huge amount of characterisation work has gone into these performances. Indeed, I would watch it again just to study their artistry. But special mention goes to the ever-present Hannah Ledwidge, providing sound and percussion throughout, elevated above the stage (with Tom Gibbons’ music and sound). Hildegard Bechtler’s set and costumes are also pitch-perfect.

As the drama concludes, Ruth grows and peace comes. We are left with a question – who defines our identity? Is it ourselves, our communities, our nearest and dearest, or those beyond that boundary? When Ruth admits when discussing her own personal loss, “I miss what you saw when you saw me,” we see, perhaps, which identity matters most; who we are for our loved ones.

This is a powerful, and important play. It’s not perfect, but it is vital, which is – perhaps – what defines theatre at its best.

The Doctor is at Theatre Royal Bath from September 13-17 at 7.30pm, with additional 2.30pm matinee shows on Wednesday, Thursday and Saturday. Tickets are available at www.theatreroyal.org.uk.

Main photo: Manuel Harlan

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