Review by Ian Keogh
The characters Paul Theroux writes about are rarely entirely likeable people, and can be downright despicable, which is the case for the extremely wealthy Minor Watt. When we first meet him in Steve Lafler’s adaptation of a 2014 short story he’s contemplating divorce, his collection of unique items and how others envy them.
Among Watt’s possessions is a portrait by Francis Bacon, and although Lafler doesn’t delve that far into distortion he certainly supplies a sweaty, sordid Ditkoesque world, in which people are as lopsided as their values. In Watt’s case the thrill of owning something desired by others is no longer enough, and after an accidental first occasion he finds there’s a greater thrill to be had from destroying something of great worth in front of others who value it.
It’s a convincing form of madness, yet poses the question about what really has meaning. Are people appalled at Watt for destroying something artistically unique or for destroying items worth millions? The more art he destroys, the greater his acclaim. It’s quite the cynical assessment of the art world with an extremely obvious allegorical ending, so not among Theroux’s finest short stories, but Lafler’s quirky art adds an appealing layer of unreality.
‘Siamese Nights’ also dates from 2014, and protagonist Boyd Osier’s name seems some form of anagram. Given a theme being what men get up to when they’re abroad together and everything is cheap, perhaps a mis-spelling of ‘Boy Dossier’ fits the bill. Boyd’s been sent to Bangkok on some indeterminate form of business. He enjoys sketching, and the Siamese Nights bar becomes a regular haunt when he becomes infatuated with someone who works there.
Given a disturbing encounter early in the story coupled with the location, most readers are going to be well ahead of the subsequent revelation, but thankfully that’s the proper starting point rather than a surprise ending. Boyd is forced to confront the status of his life, and how far he’s suppressed his desires, yet opening one door closes another.
Lafler illustrates this form of emotional turmoil with less excess than Watt’s transformation. Osier’s not mean-spirited, but like Watt he’s at a crossroads, and the certainties of his life have been wiped away. Lafler’s efficient construction of Osier involves the frequent self-reflection of word balloons and an increasingly nervous state in all situations as he’s absorbed by a double life. Is he what many others might become in the same situation?
There’s a feeling of Theroux’s original story possessing greater nuance, as Lafler transmits the turmoil in shorthand, and without the detached observational distance Theroux frequently employs. It’s perfectly serviceable, but leaves the opening, more stylised adaptation stronger.
