Dealer’s Choice
Patrick Marber’s reputation as a playwright was sealed with 1997’s Closer, but wowee his debut Dealer’s Choice is good.
‘1995’ screams a giant projection at the start of Matthew Dunster’s production. It’s a fun gesture but it does not foreshadow a nostalgia fest. It’s actually a remarkably prescient play - a mobile phone is showcased prominently and there’s a whole bit in it about the gentrification of Bow. One running joke about how Hammed Animashaun’s hapless Mugsy wants to turn a disused public toilet into a restaurant sent chills down my spine (I live in Beckenham where we have literally turned the old public loos into a cafe).
Above all, it is a play about men, under pressure, playing poker. If anything truly does date it to its era it’s that the fizz and crackle of Marber’s lads-only dialogue recalls the Brit gangster films of the time (although it does actually predate most of them).
Regardless, it’s a lean and thrilling beast, that centres on a group of blokes who work in the restaurant in which the after hours poker games are played. The first half is all set up, as we’re introduced to the ensemble. Alfie Allen – brother to Dunster’s regular muse Lily – was kind of billed as the star, but really the show belongs to Animishawn’s ebullient Mugsy. His toilet-centric dreams are mocked by all and sundry, but really he’s the only one who feels like he might be able to move on from the gambling. At the start of the story Theo Barklem-Biggs’s deadpan chef...