Night of January 16th

By Ayn Rand

Review by Guy Holmes

Bjorn Faulkner is a man who is used to getting his own way and for whom money is no object, especially when it isn’t his, or so we are told. A gold broker in the Big Apple, his habit of living high off the hog by defrauding the companies in his charge has left a $10m hole that needs to be plugged to prevent the complete collapse of his crumbling empire. After securing emergency finance from a dubious banker, he plunges to his death from the penthouse that he shares with his lover Karen Andre, on the night of January the 16th and in front of a full deck of witnesses. The fact that Faulkner is married to the banker’s daughter Nancy and has left a suicide note further complicates matters. Poor old Bjorn Faulkner doesn’t get much opportunity to defend himself, being dead, and is tarred by the many torrid accusations of those around him, compounding the mystery and intrigue. Did he jump, was he pushed, was the disfigured corpse even him? These are the questions that hang in the air as the Superior Court #11 convenes in New York. Witness statements have previously cast Karen Andre as the prime suspect and we join her in court as she fights to convince us of her innocence and clear her name.

Ayn Rand’s play, Night of January 16th is a challenging work that explores how the toxicity of wealth, success, and power corrupt, and in this case, how they beguile the women that exist in the margins of the allegedly narcissistic, lawless, psychopath that is Bjorn Faulkner. Fully aware of his many weaknesses, Nancy his wife, Karen his lover, and Magda his housekeeper each remain utterly devoted to him despite their appalling treatment at his hands. While we never get to meet him, he is ever present, casting a long shadow over the court proceedings.

The action, set in the 1960s, opens in the courtroom, and never leaves it. Judge Heath (Helen McCallum keeping fine control of the proceedings) presides centre stage, dominating the court from atop a very high “bench” assisted by clerk (Rosemary Eason) and bailiff (Ken Eason). District Attorney Flint (Kimberly Tongish) and Defence Attorney Stevens, (Scott Brindle) take the lead, calling numerous witnesses to the stand and unpicking the tangled web of events that led up to the death. Setting the pace and carrying much of the workload, Kimberly Tongish set the right tempo delivering a calm and convincing D.A. Flint who commanded the court with her matter-of-fact professionalism. Scott Brindle in the role of the Defence Attorney was a combative, tenacious, yet sensitive Defence Attorney Stevens, at his best when suckering witnesses into dropping their guard and revealing their true character. These were strong and very believable performances from talented and experienced actors that contributed in no small way to the overall success of the performance.  

As each witness takes to the stand, a little more of the sordid and depraved world inhabited by Faulkner and those around him is revealed. Dr Kirkland, played by Nick Warburton with a fine bedside manner, had the air of a man who had had to attend to too many suicides and couldn’t bear to see any more. Barry Brown as the night watchman at the penthouse, John Hutchins, was a discretely observant loyal retainer, deeply uncomfortable with the goings on at the penthouse, and at having to recount them. Homer Van Fleet, the private detective hired to tail Faulkner by Nancy, his wife, was played by Guy Marshall as a methodical, professional yet deeply flawed detective. The casual way in which he mentions his various appetites and hangouts made his witness statement even more disturbing. Elmer Sweeney of the NYPD, (Peter Dodds) was the stoic voice of common sense and reasoning worn down by years of trying to police the ungovernable, and Magda Svenson, played by Rosamund Payne was primly and neatly turned out as the Swedish housekeeper, ready to find dirt where there was none. These were accomplished performances that set the mood, built the suspense, and captured the attention of the audience.

Patiently waiting in the court was Faulkner’s lover, Karen Andre (Lucy Green). Told to bite her tongue throughout much of the witness statements, Miss Andre finally gets her chance to tell her side of the story when she takes the stand late on in the court case. Although this was a play marked by many strong performances, this performance was notable for the natural, realistic, and sensitive manner in  which the depth and range of Karen’s many and conflicting emotions were captured and portrayed. Prior to Miss Andre’s testimony, Ayn Rand unveils a few procedural surprises in the form of the sudden appearance of Faulkner’s wife Nancy Lee Faulkner (Anna Marcelle) and her father the banker, John Whitfield (David Foyle) freshly returned from an impromptu holiday in California. Both characters would have the audience believe they are innocents duped by Faulkner, but what follows strongly suggests otherwise. Anna Marcelle played Nancy as a woman not yet scorned but more than hinting at the fury that would await should she decide otherwise. Arch, selfish, poised, ruthless and calculating, she would have been a shoe-in for a black widow spider, and probably made the perfect wife for Bjorn Faulkner. David Foyle was in every sense the powerful financier; cultured, urbane, impatient, and infinitely superior, but always with a suggestion that violence was just a knuckle duster away and might explode at any moment, unhindered by the need for provocation nor the fear of repercussions. He was not the sort of man you would want to owe money to.

Jane Chandler the handwriting expert (Judy Curry) came across as an eminent and capable witness with a high degree of competence in her field, a professional in every sense and Sigurd Junquist (Steven Kitson), the Swedish bookkeeper and substitute secretary to Faulkner displayed an alarming and obsessive devotion to cleanliness and his master. Richard Dodd as the gangster Larry Regan, dominated the stage as if it was his turf. His unrequited love for Karen Andre revealed a vulnerability which she exploited to the full. This was a very strong characterisation displaying much control and skill, proving the adage that there are no small parts, only small actors. This was a big performance in every sense of the word.

The simple setting perfectly complemented the action. A striking silhouette of Manhattan dominated the bench and the witness stand. Most of the witnesses remained on stage throughout the play, seated to the rear on chairs of the period, allowing them to engage and react to the action as though part of the audience.

The set was dressed to add gravitas to the seriousness of the location with the great seal of the New York Court centre stage beneath the judge, and the Stars and Stripes and New York state flag flanking the bench. Other props further added to the authenticity. This was a very effective, practical set for which the designers and production team deserve much credit (Barry Brown for set design, Beth White for props, Peter Crofts and Roger Hall as master carpenters, the Lolworth team for the set construction). The action was lit perfectly thanks to the work of David Byrne, enabling us to take in and enjoy the full glory of the period setting, the costumes, hairstyles and makeup. It looked perfect with not a hair out of place and fully set the time and place thanks to the work of Hannah Curtis (make-up), and Mandi Cattell (costumes).

Full responsibility for the production always falls on the shoulders of the director and Colin Lawrence provided the vision, passion, and drive to bring this production successfully to the ADC. This was a production that looked wonderful, had well-developed, believable characters and situations, and which flowed with a pace that was natural and which held the attention of the audience. It combined suspense with humour sensitively, and clearly created the questions that the jury had to answer. It was a thrilling and thought-provoking production.

Perhaps the only objection that could be raised is that we don’t and never will know exactly what happened to Bjorn Faulkner. The denouement requires the audience itself to form the jury who then vote on and deliver the verdict based on their interpretation of the evidence revealed by the cast, a novel and unusual ending. Although Karen Andre had many motives for wanting rid of her lover and the means to do so, there were many others who might and perhaps should have been in the frame, but they were not on trial, an incomplete ending to reflect an imperfect world perhaps. However it could be said that there were many people on trial here, but only one was in the dock. Whatever the moral, this was a strong and entertaining production of a gripping and rarely performed play.

Night of January 16th: engaging premise carries a somewhat stilted drama

The audience interaction at the heart of Ayn Rand’s play is more than enough to merit a viewing

Review by Ollie Norton – Varsity

I urge everyone to go and see Night of January 16th — but not if you want to be satisfied.

This is not your ordinary whodunit, with everything explained and all parts fitting neatly into place. Instead, it is select members of the audience, acting as the jury, who decide whether the defendant is guilty or not. I found myself flitting between ‘guilty’ and ‘not-guilty’ frequently, and would have had a hard time casting my vote if picked to be a member of the jury. As is often the case when you’re undecided, it was only once the decision was actually made and the verdict delivered that I knew what I really believed — and it wasn’t the decision the jury came to.

My friend who accompanied me to the show described the courtroom as the ultimate theatre — and that is exactly what was proven here. Ayn Rand’s debut play uses the ‘stage’ of the courtroom to explore the beginnings of her ethical philosophy, which would later be known as Objectivism. Bjorn Faulkner, who is never seen in the play and who, from testimonies, seems to embody Rand’s Objectivism, is dead. District Attorney Flint (Kimberly Tongish, in a solid performance) attempts to prove the guilt of the often-grating Karen Andre (Lucy Green), a woman aptly defended by Defence Attorney Stevens (Scott Brindle). I was fascinated by the notion that, as these actors were performing their characters, they were also performing as their characters, attempting to convince the audience to vote one way or another.

The form of the play is truly unique. You sit watching a trial in session: a witness is called forward, interrogated by both sides, and then exits and makes way for the next. That is it. To an extent this limits the dramatic capacities of the play: it is for the most part exposition, often featuring just one character at a time, explaining their perspective on the disputed murder/suicide that preoccupies the play. However, the novel jury element and Rand’s plot-driven writing style keeps the production engaging. It is by its nature a difficult play to perform — one that was evidently written by a philosopher rather than a dramatist.

On the whole, the cast’s distinct characterisations highlight Rand’s philosophical themes very well. While the image of the deceased Faulkner presented to us by various witnesses gives us a flavour of Rand’s Objectivism, in District Attorney Flint we get a very clear opposing picture of normative morality. This contrast is not always so clear: Flint and Faulkner might serve as extremes but other characters present more realistically messy and confused ethical standpoints. The ultimate result is that you are left questioning perspective’s relationship to truth. The play shows just how hard discovering truth is — that is if capital T ‘Truth’ exists at all. In a way, your ethical beliefs are on trial just as much as Karen Andre is.

Once the closing arguments were made, the chosen jury members simply cast their ballots: guilty or not guilty. Discussion wasn’t allowed, and I suppose they were made to vote from a combination of gut instinct and their own reasoning. There is a disorienting power in making the audience decide the verdict: though I wasn’t in the jury, I felt, as did my friend and those sitting next to us, that it made your judgement mean something. As a juror, you would have left the theatre with the possibility of either having condemned an innocent woman to imprisonment, or having let a selfish, ego-driven murderer get away without so much as a slap on the wrist. The injustice of ‘justice’ was exposed. Night of January 16th is a play that will stick with you — it will affect how you react to the stories you are told, and will make you think twice before you assume the guilt or innocence not just of those who are on trial but your friends and family too.

Despite the profound themes, it is not a production without humour. The witness line is peppered with diverse humanity, from the kindness of Barry Brown’s John Hutchins to the cold, judgemental nature of Rosamund Payne’s Magda Svenson. The witnesses show people’s differing approaches to life and how it affects one’s relationship with the truth. Ultimately, I found that no story was entirely convincing — and regardless of the outcome, part of me would have remained unsure that it was the right one. Doubt can pierce any story, and it’s up to you, the audience, as potential jurors, to decide who you’ll side with on good faith. Don’t take the decision lightly; be careful of whose truth you accept — it might just reveal parts of yourself that you weren’t aware existed.