★★★

“diverting, packed with plot, character and incident”

Writer Richard Bean’s stage version of House of Games, directed by Jonathan Kent, is a theatrical sleight-of-hand that both honours and undercuts its source. Adapted from David Mamet’s 1987 film and story, the play tries to pull off a double con: replicating the clipped tension of Mamet’s neo-noir while layering in jokes, cartoonish supporting characters, and a dash of caper comedy.

The result, though often entertaining, is tonally confused – a production unsure whether it wants to unsettle or amuse.

The story follows Margaret (Lisa Dillon), a buttoned-up Harvard clinical psychoanalyst and successful writer. Bored with her uptown life, she becomes embroiled in the seductive world of low-rent grifters after she tries to rescue a client Billy Hahn (Oscar Lloyd) from a gambling debt.

She enters the titular House of Games – a down-at-heel Chicago bar – and meets smooth Mike, (Richard Harrington) a charming hustler whose world of deceit both appals and excites her. Margaret is inspired to research another book which provides her with an excuse to hang around and (improbably) play bit parts in Mike’s cons, a transgression fuelled by a growing passion for her bad boy lover.

As the scams multiply, so do the psychological twists, leading to a final turn that should, in theory, leave the audience reeling.

But where Mamet’s film presented its narrative with razor-edged minimalism – quick cuts, shadows, tight silences – the stage version feels the need to say everything out loud, slowly and with a chirpy smile.

The introduction of a broad comic sidekicks and the abundance of wisecracks contribute to an atmosphere closer to a sub-Ocean’s 11 pastiche than a psychological thriller. The quipping gang have plenty of character to play with – Robin Soans’ veteran Joey particularly fun – but the gags come at the expense of any menace and tension.

Bean’s script confines all the action to just two locations and designer Ashley Martin-Davis pursues the trend for double-decker stages, the clinical therapist’s office above, the sleazy, dimly lit bar below.

While the con-games themselves are nicely choreographed, they are also well telegraphed. And, by now, Bean’s boosterish urges have erased all thoughts of Mamet’s moral bleakness.

For all its inconsistencies, the production is diverting, packed with plot, character and incident.

The audience, like Margaret, is willingly drawn into the performance’s web of duplicity. There’s a sly thematic resonance here: theatre itself is a con, asking viewers to believe in fictions. This adaptation leans into that idea, sometimes too heavily, but never without flair.

The tricks may be familiar, but the ride is fun.

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”

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!

HOUSE OF GAMES

Hampstead Theatre

★★★

“diverting, packed with plot, character and incident”

HOUSE OF GAMES

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 12th May 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Last ten shows reviewed at this venue:

HOUSE OF GAMES

HOUSE OF GAMES

HOUSE OF GAMES

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

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