★★★★

“Walker and Mangan are both wonderful in their roles, giving a natural performance that allows us to believe in everything they say”

The trigger warning in the publicity for Mike Bartlett’s new play, “Unicorn”, states that it ‘contains explicit content and scenes of a sexual nature, which some audience members may find intriguing’. A description that could be applied to the whole play. For it is, indeed, an intriguing and curious affair. Whether it’s an affair of the heart is debatable. ‘Debatable’ being the operative word – the flames of desire are often dowsed by too much discussion. Which is the crux. Bartlett is the master of dialogue and “Unicorn” mixes sharp humour with weighty matters; sometimes dark but lit up by its dazzling one-liners that are timed perfectly, even if the aim is a bit unsure of its target.

Polly (Nicola Walker) is having a drink with one of her writing students, Kate (Erin Doherty). The mutual attraction transcends the age gap and looks set to leap over the lecturer/student divide. The trouble is though, Polly is happily married to Nick (Stephen Mangan), and they share everything. Aha! Why not share the ‘girlfriend’ too. Kate is up for it. Cut to scene two in which Polly broaches the subject with Nick. The spark is supposed to have gone from their marriage, although it is hard to believe as the chemistry and affection between the couple are more than evident in their conversation and body language. Walker and Mangan are both wonderful in their roles, giving a natural performance that allows us to believe in everything they say. Nick is more reticent about the idea of a threesome but is spurred on by Polly’s persuasiveness, which is a neat segue into scene three – one of the highlights in which Nick meets Kate for the first time. Mangan’s beautifully portrayed awkwardness clashes with Doherty’s cheeky, Essex-accented bluntness. Our sympathies lie with the former.

The short scenes are punctuated with riffs of the old music hall song ‘Daisy Daisy (Bicycle Made for Two)’; a neat, tongue in cheek touch. Initially they are light and jazzy, slowly morphing into a more masculine, cockney version until a final punk arrangement points us in the direction of darker territory. Miriam Buether’s simple and stark sets place the action under an umbrella-like, fabric semi-dome. Yet it is the words that always speak louder than the action (a reverse of the old adage). There is very little action and by interval we are starting to wonder where it is all going.

The second act provides the answer, and some unexpected twists too. And with a more pronounced political metaphor leaking into the language the humour takes a bit of a back step. Time has moved forward, and the relationships have taken on a different dynamic. We find ourselves further losing sympathy with the character of Kate – the motif ‘bicycle made for two’ taking on more resonance. Doherty’s intricate portrayal captures this dichotomy excellently; torn between her arrogant, self-imposed right to be considered part of the family but up against decades of intimacy that the couple previously shared without her. It’s hard to fix a third saddle onto the bike.

Bartlett is tackling material that is not necessarily ground-breaking or new. But he does throw a couple of surprises at us. Cleverly constructed with ever-shortening scenes that shrink towards a quite poignant finale, it is nevertheless the execution (with credit to James Macdonald’s able direction) that truly carries the weight. A starry cast, yes, but stellar performances. They make a powerful and seductive threesome that we’d all like to jump into bed with. Metaphorically, of course!

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

★★★★★

“It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between.”

Jez Butterworth’s highly anticipated new play, “The Hills of California” is a wondrously slow-burning affair that raises the question, among others, of explaining why people are what they are. As the layers are gradually peeled back the prize at the heart condenses, but it is the twists and turns of the lead-up that keep us in thrall. Despite running at just over three hours, Butterworth seems to have chosen every word with a mosaic artist’s care.

It is the sweltering summer of 1976, and we are in the cluttered parlour of a Blackpool guesthouse, where the cracked piano is off-key. “Through neglect and time” according to the piano tuner – the first (one of many) metaphor that applies to each character. Three sisters are reuniting during the dying moments of their mother who is lying in bed, unseen, upstairs. A fourth sister’s presence is uneasily promised, though not expected. Jill (Helena Wilson) is already on the scene. She still lives with her mother, caring for her, nervously spraying air-freshener to stop her cigarette smoke drifting up the stairs towards her. Enter feisty, witty, no-nonsense Ruby (Ophelia Lovibond) lugging her panic attacks and slapping them down on the table. Then Gloria (Leanne Best), bitter and blunt, sagging under the weight of chips on her shoulder. The dynamic is quickly established as sibling rivalries and affections simmer away, while unreliable memories stew.

We are transported back to the source of their memories. To the 1950s when the dreams were still flourishing, the guesthouse breathed with life, and their mother, Veronica (Laura Donnelly), ruled the roost with a regimental and fierce ambition for her daughters. Determined to see them become the next ‘Andrews Sisters’ she is remorseless in her control over them. Donnelly gives a star turn performance, mistakenly believing her steely command is maternal care, unaware of the damage she is causing. When a predatory theatrical agent comes dangling a carrot, we witness the harsh, defining moment that severs the family, and the future scenes make sense.

Slipping back and forth between the fifties and the seventies is the plays major strength. Each decade sheds light on the other and we see how events shape our protagonists; and how memories of those events can cloud their perceptions of reality. The performances are superb across the board. And if the characters’ memories are off pitch, their singing voices are gorgeously harmonious, especially the younger cast who play the sisters as teenagers.

“Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time.”

As the questions tentatively find their answers, the bleakness is constantly relieved by the humour that runs through the writing. Comedy that is accentuated by the fine ensemble acting. Shaun Dooley and Bryan Dick are an astute double-act as Gloria and Ruby’s husbands respectively. Dick also doubles as the resident end-of-the-pier jokesmith, Jack Larkin, forever behind on the rent but upfront with loyalty and cringe-worthy quips. There is no cameo role, even if one or two characters appear transient. Each has their place.

Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time. There may be one or two movements that could be shortened – or even cut. But like taking out a single part within a harmony, it would leave the others out of kilter. There are many undulations in “The Hills of California”. We are aware of them up close. Stand back and we see the panoramic, yet intimate, view of a family picked apart skilfully by Butterworth.

The sense of disorientation is enhanced by Rob Howell’s impressive set. Homely yet disarranged, it sweeps upwards with its imposingly gothic staircases like a giant Escher woodcut. The sinister is never far away from the everyday. And the trivial minutiae are forever rubbing shoulders with universal truths.

It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between. Like the piano – that becomes a central role in the piece – those relationships can go discordantly off-key – “through neglect and time” – as the piano tuner says. Before reminding us: “a piano must be played”.

UNICORN

Garrick Theatre

★★★★

“Walker and Mangan are both wonderful in their roles, giving a natural performance that allows us to believe in everything they say”

UNICORN

Garrick Theatre

Reviewed on 13th February 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Marc Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

UNICORN

UNICORN

UNICORN

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

★★★★★

“It is, overall, a sharp-witted observation of life. And of death. And the precarious hold we have of memories that lie between.”

“Sam Mendes brings out the best of this company, directing like a conductor responding to the shifts of mood and time.”

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA at the Harold Pinter Theatre

Reviewed on 8th February 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Mark Douet

Top rated shows in January 2024:

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA

THE HILLS OF CALIFORNIA