THE SEX APPEAL OF THERMODYNAMICS

I had been told before going that Arcadia was undoubtedly a masterpiece, but that I might find it impenetrable, the science and mathematics beyond my comprehension, and the resulting two-hour fifty-minute running time something of a cognitive overload. I would like to dispel these sentiments. I am not alone in having approached the play with these reservations: on my second viewing I was sat next to a lovely woman, Tabitha, who, upon learning I had already seen the performance, asked if she “needed to be clever” to understand the play. She was spellbound, as I had been, and as my two friends were when they went individually to see the play. One friend told me that she felt that it had “permanently altered [her] brain chemistry”. I feel quite the same. 

The drama unfolds within the same room of a stately home in Derbyshire across two timelines. In the historic timeline, we are witness to the classical mathematics lessons of Thomasina Coverly, a precocious teenage mathematical prodigy, from her tutor, Septimus Hodge, a recent graduate from Cambridge in mathematics and natural sciences, old-Harrovian, and friend of Lord Byron. In the contemporary timeline, present-day Coverly mathematics titan, Valentine Coverly, a post-graduate computer scientist, applies chaos theory to grouse populations on his estate whilst Hannah Jarvis, an academic researching the transformation of the garden at the estate from Enlightenment era order to Romantic chaos, and Bernard Nightingale, an egotistical professor researching Byron, lock horns and verbally joust as they pursue their individual intellectual objectives. This may sound like a lot, but the narrative weaves and intersects itself, revelations from the first timeline reveal misperceptions in the contemporary timeline. As a viewer, we see what happened, and we simultaneously watch as the contemporary characters attempt to decipher the past. Like a thousand-piece puzzle, each line or phrase, perhaps indistinguishable in isolation, constructs a glorious image, with a conclusion that is momentous, tragic, and inconceivably satisfying. 

The Old Vic production was performed in the round, on a revolve, the lines of the stage floor moving in opposing directions mimicking the rotation of ancient puzzle maps that might reveal some hidden astrological pathway. Above the stage, a mobile of lights that resembled a solar system rose, fell, and slowly rotated with the tempo of the performance. The staging felt understated, elegant, and utterly absorbing, evoking the cosmic magic of the theories aired within the text. 

The cast for the transfer to the West End includes Isis Hainsworth, reprising her Olivier-nominated role as Thomasina Coverly, Seamus Dillane as Septimus Hodge, and Angus Cooper as Valentine Coverly, amongst others. The show is worth seeing for the chemistry and performances from Isis Hainsworth and Seamus Dillane alone, they were remarkable at the Old Vic – utterly compelling, coy, and charismatic performances that carried the play off the page. Their performance was also rich with yearning, because Arcadia is also a deeply romantic play – Stoppard succeeded in making mathematics and thermodynamics sexy. 

I plan to see the play again, and I would recommend anyone who asks me to do the same. What awaits is a show that handles complicated topics with dexterity, dynamism, and joy. Entropy is manifestly sexy, the flow of heat from one body into another, and enlightenment rigour clashes with self-indulgent romanticism across past and present. If, like me, you feel compelled to see a further iteration of the show, a recording of the 1995 performance at the Theatre Royal Haymarket is available to be viewed in the V&A archives.