The juiciest pleasure of David Eldridge’s teacher’s triptych, first seen at the Royal Court in 2000, is its exquisite structure. The tales of three not-quite couples follow one another over three consecutive years, protagonists from each neatly reappearing in the dialogue of the next. Nick begins the circle by inviting the pantingly desperate Helen for dinner and confessing, not to undying love, but to the fact that he’s quitting their East End comp for a private school in Essex.
We next encounter two sozzled teachers from the Essex school clawing maniacally at each other’s clothes. But Michelle, it nastily transpires, has been dumped by Nick earlier in the day and is only consummating her friendship with geeky, virginal Graham to exact revenge. Anne and Robert also have an enduring, confusingly platonic love, but, under a hopeful Devon sky they begin a tentative dance of togetherness.
This last is the only act that really flies in Anna Makin’s measured, detailed production, due largely to Francesca Annis’s perfect portrait of an ageing woman, unable to believe she might grasp happiness at such a season. Elsewhere, Eldridge’s dialogue seems freighted with a wider social commentary that never fully flowers, from ideas of self sacrifice and soldiering to the impact of the profession on affairs of the heart. Makin doesn’t quite nail the comedy of the first two tales, and, apart from Chris O’Dowd’s causally disingenuous Nick, miscasting abounds. Catherine Tate is wonderfully diverting as the salacious Michelle, but so entirely vile that her attack on Graham’s pedagogic power trip carries little punch, and it’s hard to care when it duly turns on her. There’s deeply moving catharsis to be had in the redemptive final tale, but not enough to lift this thoughtful, beautifully constructed play into the realms of truly transportive art.
This is an incredibly dull evening at the theatre - safe,complacent, cliched, monotone - not an ounce of energy or verve in the whole thing and by the time the final act came round with its embarrassing mawkishness I thought I might have to leave - bumbling sitcom character (Lindsay) falls for graceful posh totty (Annis) twice his age 'the magical and delicate story' was like being smothered in saccharine and sentimentality - give it a miss. Unless of course you like it twee.
In over 20 years of going to the West End, I'm hard pushed to think of a worse performance than the one I saw from Lisa Dillon in this play. She makes nonsense of everything she says and does. The first section is excruciating to watch as a result and it's a huge relief when Catherine Tate and Dominic Rowan finally tumble onto the stage in a loud, drunken mess for part two of this three part play.
Tate does precisely what you would expect her to do - nail the comedy moments - as she launches into a drunken, vitriolic tirade against her current and former boyfriends, with the hapless Rowan as her increasingly less compliant audience of one.
The saving grace for this play is in the final part, with two beautiful performances from Francesca Annis and Nigel Lindsay. In their expert hands, dialogue that had sounded clunky and artificial during the first two parts becomes fluid and natural. It actually comes across as if it had been written by a different person.
Portraying two long standing friends with some twenty years separating them, Annis being the older, the two actors weave a magical and delicate story of love and second chances. By the end of the piece, you sensed the entire audience were willing them to say those three little words to finally bring out what had been unspoken between the two of them for so long.
A hit and miss evening. I wouldn't recommend rushing out to see this, which is a shame for Annis and Lindsay, so if you can manage to left the first part wash over you like white noise, the final third of the evening will reward you.
2 comments
This is an incredibly dull evening at the theatre - safe,complacent, cliched, monotone - not an ounce of energy or verve in the whole thing and by the time the final act came round with its embarrassing mawkishness I thought I might have to leave - bumbling sitcom character (Lindsay) falls for graceful posh totty (Annis) twice his age 'the magical and delicate story' was like being smothered in saccharine and sentimentality - give it a miss. Unless of course you like it twee.
In over 20 years of going to the West End, I'm hard pushed to think of a worse performance than the one I saw from Lisa Dillon in this play. She makes nonsense of everything she says and does. The first section is excruciating to watch as a result and it's a huge relief when Catherine Tate and Dominic Rowan finally tumble onto the stage in a loud, drunken mess for part two of this three part play.
Tate does precisely what you would expect her to do - nail the comedy moments - as she launches into a drunken, vitriolic tirade against her current and former boyfriends, with the hapless Rowan as her increasingly less compliant audience of one.
The saving grace for this play is in the final part, with two beautiful performances from Francesca Annis and Nigel Lindsay. In their expert hands, dialogue that had sounded clunky and artificial during the first two parts becomes fluid and natural. It actually comes across as if it had been written by a different person.
Portraying two long standing friends with some twenty years separating them, Annis being the older, the two actors weave a magical and delicate story of love and second chances. By the end of the piece, you sensed the entire audience were willing them to say those three little words to finally bring out what had been unspoken between the two of them for so long.
A hit and miss evening. I wouldn't recommend rushing out to see this, which is a shame for Annis and Lindsay, so if you can manage to left the first part wash over you like white noise, the final third of the evening will reward you.