Newsnight Review discussed Emma Thompson in the TV drama Wit.
(Edited highlights of the panel's review)
IAN RANKIN:
A lot of it looks like a kind of training
video, I am afraid. It's very starkly done, in
this white hospital, crisp clean sheets
because it's America, not the National
Health Service. There is this kind of
strange confessional thing going on, where
she talks to the camera, to the viewer. It's
incredibly self reverential. "This is the last
time I will get to talk to you." It really
picks up in terms of a drama when she
becomes too ill to talk. The later scenes,
where she is lying there and her old tutor
comes in to talk to her, were much more
moving than anything I had seen before
that.
JEANETTE WINTERSON:
I thought it was fabulous. It has that small,
intimate home video feel, which uses the
medium of television very well. I don't
think this would work on the big screen at
all, you would lose it. Emma's performance
is fantastic. I had enormous sympathy for
her. At the end, I was in tears, not because
it was all so dreary and dreadful and it had
no catharsis, but because it did. At the very
end of the piece, there is a moment where
she is dying, where her old tutor comes to
hold her and reads to her from a children's
book. She says, "This is an allegory of the
soul. Wherever the soul hides, God will
find it." You come out not feeling
depressed but changed.
MARK LAWSON:
I was moved but I always tend to feel it
would be a dreadful writer and actor who
couldn't move you on the subject of
terminal cancer and was slightly suspicious
of that.
PHILLIP HENSHER:
In a way, we are on very familiar ground
here. Monologue about cancer. But I have
to say that I spent the last half an hour of
this in an absolute storm of tears. I thought
it was overpoweringly moving. It's not just
moving because it's about somebody
dying. It's not just because Emma
Thompson is just so perfect at this. It's not
just about that, but about things like
loneliness and someone who has put her
trust in art, and at the end is not quite sure
whether that's enough to hold on to. The
most moving line in it, when she is talking
to the doctors and trying to understand
what's happening to her. She says, "My
only defence is the acquisition of
vocabulary." I don't know why I find that
so moving. It's a complex play, which
keeps tripping itself up in perverse,
fascinating ways, making fun of itself, with
her saying, "I can't believe how corny my
life has become."
JEANETTE WINTERSON:
The heart-head dilemma is
dealt with effectively here, in the crassness
of the medical profession, but also for her
because she has never joined the two
things up until the moment of death arrives
and then she is forced to become a
whole person at the moment that she is in
fact disintegrating.
MARK LAWSON:
When I first read about this play it worried
me that the use of the John Donne
reference was a kind of intellectual
trimmings round the edge?
PHILLIP HENSHER:
This sort of play very often has the
problem that it kind of uses this material
and doesn't have a proper respect for the
material. I thought what I liked very much
about this was that it was saying something
interesting about John Donne from time to
time and about cancer. All its material I
was interested in. I was fascinated listening
to the conversation between the dying
patient and the doctor who has been drawn
into cancer research by the whole
intellectual excitement of it. That's unusual
to have such respect for your material.
MARK LAWSON:
Ian, the John Donne part of it?
IAN RANKIN:
I don't think enough was made of that
really. If you are going to use a conceit
like that to look at metaphysics against
modern physics and modern physical
health then you should beef it up and do
more. A bit like you, I felt that was almost
around the edges to make it look a bit more
serious than it actually was.
JEANETTE WINTERSON:
I thought it was integral.
IAN RANKIN:
I didn't. I thought it was just so isolated. It
was just her on her own. Is that what it's
like when you have cancer?
MARK LAWSON:
I am afraid I thought that's why it won the
Pulitzer Prize, because it had all that stuff
in it. I didn't feel they sat together.
JEANETTE WINTERSON:
No. I felt it was genuinely moving because
it was threaded through the piece.