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Mates in Chelsea

Mates in Chelsea

★★★

Royal Court Theatre

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MATES IN CHELSEA at the Royal Court Theatre

★★★

Mates in Chelsea

“There’s a panto energy too, especially in Rory Mullarkey’s script which is laden with one liners”

I leave the theatre feeling a little empty. A play that set out as a call to arms for class warfare has fallen strangely flat. For a while I struggle to put my finger on what didn’t work. How did a play that should be such an easy laugh not quite manage it?

The concept is strong, if straight out of a PG Wodehouse. In modern day London, Tug Bungay (Laurie Kynaston) is a professional viscount. He, along with his fabulously posh, fabulously camp best mate Charlie (an absolute standout George Fouracres) is a profligate wastrel, ambling through his charmed life without aim or purpose. Until his mother (scene stealer Fenella Woolgar) informs him that the money is gone and she’s selling his castle to a mysterious never-photographed Russian oligarch. Cue a series of farcical antics to keep the castle in Tug’s hands, how handy that Charlie has the phone number of a cultural costumer…

It’s pacey, and Act II has some really strong comic moments – mistaken identity and ridiculously over the top impressions are always a laugh. Sam Pritchard’s direction makes the plays feel like a Victorian parlour game, with people popping out at convenient moments, only to return for punchline reveals. There’s a panto energy too, especially in Rory Mullarkey’s script which is laden with one liners – every line is a joke, which can be fun, but does emphasise how few manage to land.

The trouble is – what’s the point? If it were a PG Wodehouse it wouldn’t matter. His genius was writing a satire which never acknowledged being a satire, and simply existed on one level – the farcical ridiculousness poked enough fun at the British upper class that there was no need for Bertie Wooster to make wry remarks about mortgages. Anthony Neilson wrote an excellent article in defence of story on stage, arguing that plays need not have ‘a message’. This is something I wholeheartedly agree with, and this play might have worked better if it had just tried to do one thing. While there are some strong farcical moments, it gets a bit lost in a convoluted socio-political commentary. It winds up too toothless for a satire yet too worthy for a farce.

“There are some moments of great, silly fun, and some interesting social comment.”

The cast are strong. Woolgar is wonderful, subtly treading the line between comic and tragic. Also, Amy Booth-Steel as Tug’s Leninist housekeeper is fabulous, albeit in a part which is at best uncomfortable and at worst feels like a revamping of the old stereotype of the idiotic help.

Milla Clarke’s design conjures the tone well, the first half is a minimalist Chelsea apartment, complete with pop art portrait of Tug. The second half takes place at Tug’s castle, which is designed like an ‘80s Tim Burton film – high hedges and a hanging pop horror sign welcoming us to Digby Grange. Perhaps a bit of a mixed visual metaphor but it is fun, and in keeping with the tone of the play.

The irony of this play being at the Royal Court, situated in the heart of Sloane Square cannot be ignored. The biggest laughs were knowing insider chuckles, rather than at targeted anti-aristocrat barbs. Throughout, it is not clear who the intended butt of the joke is.

There are some moments of great, silly fun, and some interesting social comment. But the whole thing feels weighed down with intention, and that makes it hard to relax into the comedy, or enjoy it as a satire.


MATES IN CHELSEA at the Royal Court Theatre

Reviewed on 14th November 2023

by Auriol Reddaway

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

For Black Boys … | ★★★★★ | April 2022
Black Superhero | ★★★★ | March 2023
Cuckoo | ★★½ | July 2023

MATES IN CHELSEA

MATES IN CHELSEA

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The Son

The Son

★★★★★

Duke of Work’s Theatre

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The Son

The Son

Duke of York’s Theatre

Reviewed – 3rd September 2019

★★★★★

 

“an ordinary play in so many ways, and yet it is simultaneously extraordinary”

 

Everything about The Son is arresting. It is difficult to watch and even harder not to.

This is the final play in Florian Zeller’s loosely connected familial trilogy, which began with 2012’s The Father. Here we join Anne (Amanda Abbington) and Pierre (John Light), a divorced couple who must reconnect for the sake of their only son. Nicolas (Laurie Kynaston) has been a completely different person since the divorce, and now Anne can no longer cope with his self-isolation, anger, or (as of late) truancy. Moving in with Pierre and his new girlfriend Sofia (Amaka Okafor) seems like the solution – but what was the problem to begin with? As Nicolas’ thoughts begin to unravel, so does his family’s belief in the son they thought they knew.

The Son is an ordinary play in so many ways, and yet it is simultaneously extraordinary. This is apparent even before the play begins. The sight of Lizzie Clachan’s set – a chic suburban living room flooded with symbolic pieces of debris – is enough to indicate the carefully constructed tumult that is to follow.

It is only afterwards that these objects (children’s toys, a mounted deer head) really strike the observer as important. This is because, for all the busyness on stage, it is the actors that draw all the focus. Laurie Kynaston is utterly believable as Nicolas. He stays clear of melodramatic clichés and instead pools the depths of Zeller’s writing to draw out an emotionally authentic character. John Light is fascinating to watch as Pierre, a flawed yet deeply caring father whose frustration manifests itself in uncomfortable ways. Despite the unsavoury aspects of his character, Light humanises Pierre, making his position understandable if not agreeable. Amaka Okafor transforms Sofia into a complex character, a woman who is both loving and resentful of her volatile stepson. Okafor surprises in every scene, and is able to navigate the twists and turns of her character with flair. There is strong support from Amanda Abbington, who is sadly not present enough throughout the story. When she is present, however, she radiates love and warmth, an ideal balance to Light’s ferocity.

Whilst Zeller is evasive about the details of Nicolas’ illness, he pulls no punches with how it is presented. He wrings every last drop of emotion from the scenarios he presents, investing every one with a subtly disarming twist. Zeller’s approach – to turn his characters inside out and hold them up for all to see – makes The Son all the more difficult to watch. There is a universal sense of pain here: this family is not particularly special, not marked by excessive trauma, but in many ways just ordinary, in a way that makes its dissolution even crueller. It is clear that Nicolas is surrounded by love, just not the right kind. And we as an audience know that it will never be the right kind – but we still fall in love with those moments of laughter and lightness that suggest it might be so. The vague accumulation of dread sits uneasily within these moments of joy in what is a true emotional test for even most disconnected audience member.

Beautifully and assuredly executed, The Son may mark a completion of a trilogy, but is surely the sign of many more great works to come.

 

Reviewed by Harriet Corke

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

ATG Tickets

The Son

Duke of York’s Theatre until 2nd November

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:
Rosmersholm | ★★★★ | May 2019

 

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