Miss Nasty

Ingrid Craigie clearly relishes her role as a “post feminist journalist” in the Gate’s current production of Molière’s The Misanthrope. Molière and 20th century concepts like “post-feminist” may seem like strange bedfellows but they happily co-exist in this adaptation by Martin Crimp which is set in present day London. The central figure is an American movie star, surrounded by a writer, who is the misanthrope referred to in the play’s title, an agent and a ‘brat pack’ actor.

“And I’m the journalist who this film star thinks is her friend,” says Craigie. “And who, after I interview her, says at one point, ‘you are my friend, how could you betray me?’ But I do! I interview her and it causes huge problems because of what I write. I write what she actually says about people during the interview but that’s not what she thought was going to be written in the interview. And the play is all about people telling the truth. Everyone tells the truth. For example, the misanthrope always says exactly what he feels. But when does the truth become abuse? Also, we manipulate the truth all the time. So the film star woman doesn’t want the truth to come out at all. She wants her own version of what she perceives to the truth to be told. But that’s not the same thing as the truth, is it? Besides it is impossible to tell the whole truth about anybody because it changes constantly.

“But in terms of what the journalist in this play does, I think it actually is a good move for her. I feel comfortable about what I do. This film star thinks she is talking to a friend but I am, in the end, a journalist, out to get the best story. And I do!”

Surely Martin Crimp – and, by extension, Ingrid Craigie – can’t seriously be suggesting that a journalist, post-feminist or otherwise, would feign friendship to get a better interview?

“Isn’t that a horrifying thought, even if it’s exactly what Michael Jackson must be thinking right now!” she responds, laughing. And part of Craigie’s joy in relation to playing this role is that it is relatively light after her irredeemably black leading role in Marina Carr’s play Aerial last year at the Abbey, in which Ingrid certainly got to give vent to her rage, not a tendency that has come too readily to her in life, she admits.

“I always had a problem expressing anger,” she explains. “I think that comes out of the fact that I loathe violence. I’ve never been the subject of violence, ever. But I despise it. Why, I don’t exactly know. But even if I see violence, casually, in the street or read evidence of it, I draw back. People have different boundaries as to what they will accept in a relationship and what they can’t. I can’t understand how someone could stay with someone else if they were violent towards them.”

As the misanthrope is, at one point to the movie star.

“Yes but if someone hit me once I would be gone.”

Given that violence towards men, by women, seems to be on the increase, would Ingrid expect a man, likewise, to go if she hit him even once?

“I would,” she responds. “But you do often hear men, in particular, speak of how words fail them. Women often are able to express themselves more efficiently, especially in terms of their emotions and that’s where the divide occurs. If a fight occurs a man will strike out because he can’t express himself any other way. That’s not a justification for violence, but it is an explanation of one sort. But I wouldn’t remain in a relationship if it went anywhere near that territory. Yet, in terms of anger, more often than not it is myself I get angry at, not other people. And I honestly believe we should be able to talk things through without resorting to violence.”

That said, apart from that one moment of physical violence, The Misanthrope deals mostly with how savage words can be.

“That, too is why I love playing my part,” Ingrid concludes. “When I first played this part in 1989 she was ‘nice’ but this time she’s not. She’s quite nasty!”