Cloning and bio-ethics move from front page news to the theatrical stage. Paul Xuereb finds Caryl Churchill’s A Number deserving of all accolades.

Caryl Churchill’s play in one long act, A Number (Unifaun at St James Cavalier), portrays an imaginary case of quite extraordinary human cloning.

An action that is always taut and paying great attention to such matters as costume and make-up

It is not about the ethics of human cloning itself, though the fact that Salter, the elderly man who is one of the play’s two characters, has commissioned the cloning of his son is shown as an act of selfishness.

We learn that the original cloning went far beyond what Salter had wanted and that the scientist who had effected it had gone on to produce 19 more clones, all of whom for a long time are unknown to Salter.

In the first scene he meets Bernard, the first clone whom Salter brought up after having sent off his original son to a home and who has found out from the hospital to his dismay that there are quite a few others who seem to be identical to him. He then meets his original son, also Bernard, a difficult and violent man who hates his father for having got rid of him in his childhood and utters threats against the person cloned from him. We meet the two men in two more scenes but by the fifth scene, when Salter meets Michael, one of the remaining 19, we learn that the two Bernards are no longer alive.

Salter has now lost not just the son he has begotten but also the man cloned from that son, the son whom he clearly loves. In this last scene, with an ending that is probably the least satisfying feature of the play, Salter tries to find out what makes Michael tick and is disappointed to discover how ordinary this man is – how unlike his real son, emotional and unpredict-able, and the first clone, with his anguished attempts to make sense of his relationship with his father.

In fact, Michael’s ordinariness comes as a relief to the audience, and the little laughs he produced from time to time were inevitable. I certainly cannot understand why someone was so shocked at these reactions on the first night of the production.

Chris Gatt has done his usual fine job with the direction, producing an action that is always taut and paying great attention to such matters as costume and make-up – essential to differentiate the two Bernards and Michael. His casting of Mikhail Basmadjian, surely one of the ablest actors on the Maltese stage today, as the two Bernards and Michael is unexceptionable. Voice, walk, manners and, above all, temperament are sharply distinguished and the three men are three unmistakable characters. Churchill’s play comes down very heavily in favour of nurture in the never-ending nature-versus-nurture debate.

Bernard the son has been neglected, his mother was profoundly unhappy and committed suicide, and his being sent to a home after his mother’s death has filled him with hatred and strengthened a tendency to be violent.

Basmadjian makes him darkly dangerous, whereas Bernard the clone, who has been brought up at home, is nervous and his morale has deteriorated on discovering he is a clone. His fears about not having a true identity and his deep disappointment when he discovers how many lies Salter has told him about himself and his mother make this characterisation surely the most interesting of the three.

Churchill’s extraordinary use of unfinished sentences and independent phrases are used by Basmadjian to bring out the uncertainties governing this man.

His smiling Michael is surely the most straightforward characterisation of the three, but he keeps the audience wondering why Salter cannot take this nice man to his bosom and lead the rest of his days in his company.

John Suda’s Salter is just as remarkable; I was glad to see once more the old Suda who was for several years Malta’s leading dramatic actor. His Salter is deeply selfish, an unhesitating liar until his lies have been found out, and he excites our contempt when he tries to assuage the anger of the two Bernards by suggesting they might be able to make a great deal of money by suing the hospital for having produced, without the consent of the people involved, a good number of clones.

He has been a bad father, as he readily admits, leaving his son Bernard alone as the child screamed out of fear at night, and a poor husband: when Bernard’s mother threw herself under a train, Salter was drinking with friends, while the child was alone at home.

Suda, like Basmadjian, makes Churchill’s dialogue of hesitation into a strength in his creation of the character. This hesitation is of a piece with his slightly shambling walk, troubled expressions and occasional outbursts of helpless rage. Salter is not a man one can like, but it is difficult not to feel a touch of pity for him at the end.

Drama students should make it a point to study his performance as well as Basmadjian’s. The play is being performed for the last time tonight. Not to be missed.