PARLOUR SONG To 9 May.
London.
PARLOUR SONG
by Jez Butterworth.
Almeida Theatre To 9 May 2009.
Mon-Sat 7.30pm Mat Sat 3pm.
Audio-described 2 May 3pm (+Touch Tour 1.30pm).
BSL Signed 15 April.
Captioned 25 April 3pm, 7 May.
Post-show Discussion 27 April.
Runs 1hr 35min No interval.
TICKETS: 020 7359 4404.
www.almeida.co.uk
Review: Timothy Ramsden 27 March.
Shortish dark night of the suburban soul.
Unlikely as it seems, Jez Butterworth’s new play occupies territory close to Alan Ayckbourn’s. Whereas Ayckbourn’s characters belong to the uncomfortably established suburbs, Butterworth takes us to new-build estates of identikit homes, where each unit of mortgaged affluence is like every other, or forms its mirror-image.
As with Ayckbourn, there are dark undergrowths. Murderous darkness here, it seems, though by the time it emerges from the pent-up anguish too polite to speak its suspicions, characters are so compartmentalised and turned-in on their fantasies and despair, it’s hard to tell what’s objectively real.
While the sound of soon-to-be-soured laughter emanates from both, a thick wall of dramatic style and mood ultimately divides Ayckbourn from Butterworth. Ned, whose own life is to fall apart, is a demolition expert, standing safely at the side as schools or shopping-centres collapse, yet unable to recognise the signs as his own life, bit by bit, evaporates amidst terminal warnings and unexplained losses.
If Parlour Song (the title refers to tidied-up middle-class versions of the Blues) receives as many productions as most Ayckbourn plays, will any be as successful as Ian Rickson’s Almeida premiere? It has the inspired casting of Toby Jones as demolition Ned. Jones has a couple of physical comedy scenes, where Ned tries developing physical prowess (a weight-training routine that does seem an intrusive sketch), then sexual techniques.
He also has a way with words, using gaps between them, or a sudden drying of verbal flow to make a point, momentarily revealing anxiety or desperation beneath a boyishly enthusiastic surface.
Amanda Drew brings a restraint bordering on embarrassment and contempt to the ironically named Joy. Her weary manner with Ned, the laconic replies that take no trouble to rake dead embers, contrast her contained eagerness elsewhere. Husband and wife have incompatible ways of not relating to each other. It’s Andrew Lincoln’s plausible narrator, the neighbour Dale, who provides energy, as he becomes implicated in the lives next door.
Rickson’s superbly-judged production benefits from Jeremy Herbert’s neutral, compartmentalised set and the projected titles that frame scenes with a kind of Brechtian distancing.
Dale: Andrew Lincoln.
Ned: Toby Jones.
Joy: Amanda Drew.
Director: Ian Rickson.
Designer: Jeremy Herbert.
Lighting: Peter Mumford.
Sound: Paul Groothuis.
Music: Stephen Warbeck.
Video: Jeremy Herbert, Steven Williams.
Dialect coach: Penny Dyer.
Assistant director: Lootie Johansen-Bibby.
Sponsors: Coutts, Aspen.
2009-03-30 12:41:49