Bennett takes us inside the head of three protagonists who are all in some way trying to postpone a bleaker future. Their passions for order or for simple continuity are both pitiable and at times hilarious . . . It is a testament to Alan Bennett’s acute observation that it is possible to believe a single biscuit in the wrong place could possibly mean the difference between a job lost or an unwanted referral to a home. How our lives are so precariously poised!
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Avenue Q is a show like no other. It brings together elements with which we are all familiar and presents them in a hotch-potch of styles, ranging from children’s TV puppet shows to lavish musical with a lot of serious issues thrown in for good measure. If you haven’t seen it I recommend that you do. If you don’t fancy it, you don’t think it’s your kind of thing, think again. The show has so much feel-good factor that you’d have to be a real curmudgeon not to love it.
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There is something quite old fashioned, in a nice sort of way, about conjuring. It’s almost from another age, an age of music-hall and variety, of glitter and sequins, so it’s good to see the traditional illusionist is alive and well and that none of the magic has been lost.
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Absent Friends was written in 1974, arguably when Ayckbourn was at his peak – his previous two plays had been The Norman Conquests and Absurd Person Singular. So, although I had not seen Absent Friends before, it was with a light heart and carefree spring to my step that I arrived at the Everyman in the hope and anticipation of seeing vintage Ayckbourn at its very best. And, I am pleased to announce, it was.
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As Volpone, Henry Goodman is in his element. Energetic and jocular he takes great joy in his tempestuous life and every twist of his schemes. He confides winningly to the audience, lapses into a delightful cod Italian accent with matching gestures to impersonate a fake medicine salesman, and instantly ages thirty years every time the security cameras spy an approaching visitor. . . overall mastery imaginatively served by a first rate production and a leading performance that will go down in theatre history.
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Helped by a great sound track by Keegan Curran, Bea Roberts builds towards the inevitable denouement. She recognises that profound theatre can be found in unlikely places – in drab business parks or on anonymous computer screens, and that desire and yearning will always find a way to connect, if not to always end well. With Infinity Pool Roberts puts a twenty-first century spin on an old classic. With effortless command over the lingo of the laptop and her precise observations into humdrum lives, Roberts is a writer to take seriously. Go and see this, it’s funny, it’s sad, and it’s very, very different.
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