"Harold Pinter’s The Caretaker received much praise when it was first performed in London in 1960. One critic described it as “the most impressive dramatic writing in English” since the Second World War. Another observed that audiences were left “wondering, baffled and fascinated.”

I believe it to be a tremendous play, every bit as important as Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. It was, therefore, good to see it again in a touring production by the London Classic Theatre Company. It was brave of the Queen’s Hall to programme such a profound piece of theatre, the confrontation of three social misfits.

Pinter began writing while acting. He has a sharp ear for dialogue. He knows what works on stage. The language that the characters use is an uncannily accurate reproduction of everyday speech, complete with pauses and silences. And yet in the middle of all this ordinariness there are created terrors and uncertainties. Pinter is very much to the stage what Hitchcock was to the screen – horrible reality emerges from a seemingly conventional or comic situation.

There is something too of the medieval mystery play about The Caretaker. The tramp Davies is a kind of squalid Everyman figure. The two brothers he imposes upon are representatives of contrasting values. A damaged goodness exists in Aston, while Mick belongs to the camp of the Devil. We watch an intensely serious and disturbing narrative, but the whole thing is shot through with comedy. Having seen the RSC perform Hamlet, Macbeth and King Lear over the last few weeks, it’s clear to me that Pinteresque comedy is very much of the uncomfortable Shakespearean kind. What the gravedigger, the porter and the fool do for Shakespeare, so Davies does for Pinter. We laugh despite ourselves and understand the dark even more.

Asked at a writers’ brains trust “what would you say your plays are about, Mr Pinter?” the playwright smiled and disarmingly replied: “The weasel under the cocktail cabinet.” He has always refused to explain himself beyond the text on the page. He has dropped clues, once defending the seemingly inarticulate. “A character who can present no convincing argument or information as to his past experiences is as worthy of attention as one, who, alarmingly, can do all these things. The more acute the experience, the less articulate its expression.”

The performance by London Classic did justice to Pinter’s aspirations. It was a classy technical jumble of a set, though the floors were remarkably clean for a slum. The lighting and sound plots were sophisticated and unobtrusive. And the acting and directing were superb. For all the surface simplicity of the text the play needs a combination of pace and calm. The satirists have made mock of Pinter’s style. Pause - pause - longer and more significant pause - a few words about Sidcup - a very long silence. Michael Cabot judged the silences well, avoiding self parody. There were no extraneous stage movements or business. And he coaxed out of his three actors three brilliant performances.

I’ve seen three very distinguished actors play Davies. Nicholas Gasson was as good as any of them, especially in conveying the wheedling circulatory lies which he spins around himself and others. The role of Aston is notoriously difficult. Weakness is difficult to do without descending into the maudlin. Richard Stemp was tentatively believable and his long monologue at the end of the first half was beautifully judged. Benjamin Warren as the younger violent brother, was suitably distraught and genuinely frightening.

As I left I was asked: “Did you enjoy it?” In truth, enjoyment is not the first emotion that a Pinter play induces, but I was very moved and provoked by seeing it again. Thanks to the company for coming to Hexham. And thanks to the Queen’s Hall for giving us some tough meat to chew. A few years ago only a handful of us would have braved a play like this. Now the policy of developing the Queen’s Hall as a centre of excellence for drama is beginning to show results.

More than 200 seats sold over two performances is better than before, but Tynedale people, and especially students, need to wake up and support more vigorously the splendours in their midst. Leave the weasel under the cocktail cabinet and get out more."