Joseph Edwards (Christopher Morcom, Alan Turing's school boyfriend), Mark Edel Hunt (Turing) and Susie Trayling (Alan's patient mother). Pictures: Manuel Harlan

Breaking The Code

Royal & Derngate, Northampton

****

Alan Turing is best remembered, of course, as the genius who, employed in the Government Code and Cypher Department at Bletchley Park during World War II, uniquely cracked the ‘insoluble’ German naval codes, hence the German encryption system, thus saving thousands of lives in the latter years of the conflict.

He has been celebrated in at least two films: Enigma (2000), finely crafted by Robert Harris and Tom Stoppard (no less), and focusing on Turing’s work actually inside Bletchley Park as he works to decode the impossible – and succeeds - vividly starring Dougray Scott and a superbly and amazingly cast (and surprisingly portrayed) Kate Winslet; and more recently, The Imitation Game (2014), centred on Turing (Benedict Cumberbatch) brutally interrogated by Detective Rory Kinnear following his arrest for a homosexual encounter, with notable intelligence support roles from Charles Dance (objectionable) and Mark Strong (to a degree sympathetic).

The Director of this Admirable production at the Derngate, Jesse Jones, remarks ‘Turing’s story is much bigger than Enigma. Breaking the Code gives us the chance to see him in all his complexity his genius, his humour, his contradictions, his bravery, and his pain. It (the play) breaks the code of him a little bit, and makes him human.’

Mark Edel Hunt as the impassioned Turing

And indeed it explores, or remagines, many such facets, creating, supposing or suggesting a genuine, to some extent rounded, character. Hugh Whitemore’s handling, based on Andrew Hodges’ book, is surely faithful. One significant element is that Turing has acquired, perhaps picked up, an acquiescent youth, an obviously available yet comforting, consoling and even loyal, lad (Joe Usher), only in one short scene whom we see sharing, or occupying, Turing’s bed. More depressing is that Turing is intermittently, but not aggressively - almost sympathetically – interviewed by a policeman (Mick Ross), who shows some sympathy and almost after several mild grillings apologetically confirms that the has no option but to turn his victim over to the courts and trial.

The first act was remarkably quick-fire, almost hectic, as Turing rehearses, excitably, above all with the only person with whom he can share them, understands them, an enjoyably decrepit Dilwyn Knox (Peter Hamilton Dyer), a splendid occasional intruder, and Turing’s former mentor, with whom, gratifyingly he can gratifyingly share, at the rapid, frantic, almost frenzied speed with which he assails the others, his passionate, all but unintelligible calculations and complex reckonings.

This cast, including a beautifully depicted young girl, Pat (Carla Harrison-Hodge), to whom he reveals his sexual predilection, and his shocked mother (Susie Trayling, alarmed, much taken aback by his confession), the two women in the cast, each brought value to the play’s design, by way of welcome contrast.

Mark Edel-Hunt (Alan Turing) and current boyfriend (Joe Usher)

From the outset Mark Edel-Hunt’s performance as Turing was superb. His ability to splutter out a constant stutter was remarkable. Perhaps the highlight of Turing’s performance was his magnificent, bracing soliloquy at the start of part 2: detailed, telling, intense, expressive, appealing (and challengingly delivered to the boys of his old school, Sherborne). A masterpiece.

But it was the many ways Edel-Hunt characterised his lead role that constantly told: not just his endless stutter (brilliantly done, maybe a mite excessive), but his many personal gestures, nervously twitching fingers, vivid uneasy fiddling with his tie, momentarily aggressive jabbing and pointing, sudden unpredictable outbursts, that built up a believable, consistent character. It was a performance rich in individuality, forceful even when restrained, compelling, appealing, intermittently likeable, sociable, tender, affectionate.

These last most of all in a scene with the enchanting young girl Pat, who is eagerly fond of him, but to whom he dutifully reveals his homosexual preference. He is supportive and kindly, she is supportive and undaunted, but there it is.

In fact it is often the duets, the two-way exchanges which Whitemore puts into his script that are beneficial to the whole. The revealing exchange with his mother (Susie Trayling), the patter with the boyfriends (nicely and alluringly played by Joe Usher), the philosophic and comic scientific banter with the ex-tutor (a splendidly dotty character from Hamilton Dyer).

But a final chapter deserves saluting. Joseph Edwards plays two roles. The first is Christopher Morcom, the boy at Sherborne whom Alan is in love with, and whose unexpected tragic early death possibly affects him for life. Perhaps more could be made of this. But Edwards, somewhat underused in the script as a whole, speaks - terrifically well - a final epilogue (by Neil Bartlett) - a closing speech delivered - again to the school - by a Sixth Former, possibly prefect, as a tribute to Alan from another era sometime after Turing’s suicide. Like Edel-Hunt’s own speech, it is incredibly touching and moving. Beautiful, in fact. It makes a marvellous envoi, which to an extent sums up the whole tragic story. Wonderful. The code will be breaking to 27-09-25.

Roderic Dunnett

09-25

Royal & Derngate

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