FAT CHRIST. To 23 March.
London.
FAT CHRIST
by Gavin Davis.
King’s Head Theatre 115 Upper Street N1 1QN To 23 March 2008.
Tue-Sat 7.30pm Mat Sat & Sun 3.30pm
Runs 1hr 40min One interval.
TICKETS: 020 7226 1916.
www.kingsheadtheatre.org
Review: Timothy Ramsden 16 March.
Tasteless theatrical blancmange.
Most theatres put on a show tailored for Christmas. The King’s Head has one linked, kind-of, to Easter. If the theatre still provided pre-show food, the apt dessert would be vapid blancmange washed down with inferior plonk
It goes down easily because the dialogue often seems so easily made up. Once laddish immaturity’s been established between besuited commercial estate agent Dick (his name the source of several jokes, or one joke several times) and bearded, large-framed Jack, whose idea of being different is to be a consistent failure, there’s little point to the continued sexual references.
Writer Gavin Davis contrives laughs at a couple of apparently sexual positions arising from Jack falling over people when his back seizes up. Little else staves off a sense of desperation. Jack’s signed a bad deal to rent an isolated cottage after his dream project to film Twelfth Night fell through. There’s little suggesting his urgent desire to film Shakespeare, while his one success, a new window-cleaning operation, seems strange given his back’s repeatedly locking-up and his new home’s so remote.
Still, few of the not-so-locals seem to have any arrangement for having windows washed, enabling him to clean up to the tune of several hundred pounds daily. That’s probability itself compared with the idea Jack has persuaded a top-of-the-range gallery owner to commission an unseen crucifixion installation and pay £10,000 down with not a stroke brushed (names and addresses of such dealers to me, please).
The embryonic painting stays a long time on display. Then it’s abandoned. Taking up a reference from his friend, Jack instals himself as the crucified Christ (actually, he doesn’t refer to Dick’s comment, but as it was said, let’s assume it was intentional).
On the cross, his back seizes up again. He collapses onto Dick for the second (funnier) visual sex joke as their wives enter (little’s been said about the women, who exist solely to be – no great feat - more mature than the men). Heather Simpkin’s production strolls aimlessly through the dialogue. Tim Downie lends Dick a certain smartness, and two more performances are about adequate.
Jack Taylor: Jack Taylor.
Lily Taylor: Jennifer Matter.
Dick Frobisher: Tim Downie.
Susan Frobisher: Abi Titmuss.
Director: Heather Simpkin.
Designer/Costume: Katherina Radeva.
Lighting: Daniel Large.
Assistant director: Tom King.
2008-03-17 12:39:16