{"id":859,"date":"2014-04-06T22:35:58","date_gmt":"2014-04-06T21:35:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/?p=859"},"modified":"2014-04-07T08:18:13","modified_gmt":"2014-04-07T07:18:13","slug":"sorryface","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/2014\/04\/sorryface.html","title":{"rendered":"*sorry face*"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"article-0-1CCE9C1900000578-709_634x391\"<\/a><\/p>\n

An actor looking to real life to research their next apology face might be disconcerted by Maria Miller. On Thursday, the UK government Culture Secretary was forced to make a public apology <\/a>in the House of Commons for having (technical term) diddled her expenses<\/a>. She could have wept with sorrow for misdeeds rightly punished; blushed because she\u2019d been censored for having obstructed the inquiry; punched the air because the recommendation that she repay the almost \u00a344,000 she had overclaimed was downgraded to just \u00a35800.<\/p>\n

Conditions were set for high drama. Miller\u2019s costume was pleasingly symbolic, the black dress of calumny mantled by a snowy white jacket of absolution. Her fellow Conservatives were raring to play chorus, scooting to surround her as she rose to speak so that the cameras would find her amid a phalanx of supportive suits.<\/p>\n

31 seconds later, she was done. Her voice had remained level, her cheek unblushed, her regulation pearls untwirled. Instead, she went for blank and aggrieved, like a vending machine with a headache. Sir George Younger, sitting beside her, gazed serenely upwards, as if relishing a particularly sublime flute sonata, yet Miller\u2019s provokingly expressionless tone was stroppy teenager (Miller might have accessorised it with eye roll, but time was short).<\/p>\n

The reviews are in, and they haven\u2019t been kind. Quentin Letts<\/a>, both parliamentary sketch writer and theatre critic for the Daily Mail, complained that she had finished before he could uncap his pen. John Crace <\/a>found it less of an apology, more of a \u2018whatever.\u2019 The call for her to resign<\/a>, be sacked, or at least learn how to fake remorse grows.<\/p>\n

As Culture Secretary \u2013 a post for which enthusiasm for the arts is regarded with suspicion \u2013 Miller\u2019s culture-sceptic credentials <\/a>have been noted. \u2018Have just seen picture of Maria Miller in what appears to be a theatre,\u2019 tweeted the critic Fiona Mountford <\/a>recently. \u2018It must have been photoshopped.\u2019<\/p>\n

So Miller may not have seen much of drama\u2019s attempts to portray contrition. In fact, surprisingly few classic heroes stoop to public apology. Sorry is for weaklings: Iago is hauled off unrepentant for the havoc he has wrought, while doddery Lear weeps remorse to his scorned Cordelia. Miller may not possess the necessary constitution for contrition so should probably avoid extreme apology \u2013 like Leontes\u2019 16 years of self-abasement in The Winter\u2019s Tale<\/em> or Ph\u00e8dre\u2019s suicide, let alone Oedipus\u2019 blood-curdling scream when acknowledging incest and patricide (Laurence Olivier <\/a>claimed his howl was based on an ermine whose tongue was ripped from the frozen ice).<\/p>\n

\"Finbar<\/a>

Finbar Lynch (right) as the Cardinal in The Duchess of Malfi (Old Vic) Photo: Johan Persson<\/p><\/div>\n

If only we had followed Miller into her office (ignoring the aides making threatening phone calls<\/a>) or her home (unless her parents are back, contravening the expenses rules). For theatre tells us is that remorse strikes privately, when the culpable soul is alone. Guilt unacknowledged sneaks in to bite you. Even hardened wrongdoers, like the poison-happy cardinal in The Duchess of Malfi<\/em><\/a>, may experience guilt as an unnameable, inexplicable hallucination:
\nWhen I look into the fishponds in my garden
\nMethinks I see a thing, armed with a rake,
\nThat seems to strike at me.<\/p>\n

Others may break out into excessive bonhomie, like back-slapping Joe Keller in All My Sons<\/em>, or follow Blanche DuBois by cowering at the accusing glare (\u2018don\u2019t turn on the lights!\u2019<\/a>). Her department could facilitate meetings with architects, if she preferred to bury her guilt beneath one of Ibsen\u2019s monuments to denial: like the Captain Alving Memorial Orphanage <\/a>or master builder\u2019s tower.<\/p>\n

\"Danny<\/a>

Danny Kirane (below) as Andrei in Three Sisters (Young Vic) Photo: Simon Annand<\/p><\/div>\n

Miller made herself unreadable in the Commons. I\u2019m not saying that Miller isn\u2019t an idiot \u2013 but if she isn\u2019t, she must know how shoddy her contrition sounded. In which case, the character she most resembles is Andrei in Three Sisters<\/em>: he\u2019s the disappointing brother who at the end of a long, fraught night confronts his sisters in a bluster of self-justification: about his miserable marriage (\u2018Natasha is an outstanding woman\u2019), his pettifogging job (\u2018a service just as sacred, just as elevated, as any I could render to science\u2019) and \u2013 look, Maria! \u2013 his dodgy way with a mortgage. His fog of excuses melts abruptly into tears. \u2018My dear sisters, my own dear sisters,\u2019 he sobs, \u2018don\u2019t believe me, don\u2019t trust me.\u2019 And then he\u00a0simply leaves.<\/p>\n

Follow David at @mrdavidjays<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

An actor looking to real life to research their next apology face might be disconcerted by Maria Miller. On Thursday, the UK government Culture Secretary was forced to make a public apology in the House of Commons for having (technical term) diddled her expenses. She could have wept with sorrow for misdeeds rightly punished; blushed […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":860,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[32,34],"class_list":{"0":"post-859","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-uncategorized","8":"tag-shakespeare","9":"tag-theatre","10":"entry"},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/859","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=859"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/859\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/860"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=859"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=859"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.artsjournal.com\/performancemonkey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=859"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}