ADC
Tuesday 11 - Saturday 15 November
Dir. Tom Attenborough; CUADC

Five Stars

My editor says I can't mention the star system. It is becoming, quote, "tired". So we won't be dropping the s-bomb this week. Instead we'll be talking about Approval Points.

And this is where this show presents me with two problems. Some wanker at the ADC once said they hated it when the reviewer reviewed the play not the production. This is complicated here: this being new writing, some form of comment is called for. Well: I thought this was a very, very good play. Funny, creepy, deeply interesting. Slightly overwrought in places - some of the symbolism was clunky; Raphaella's closing speech was a bit full-on - and occasionally substituting the word "fuck" for genuine feeling. But, generally, great, and worth every Approval Point going.

But the production proved more troublesome. I thought Joe Bannister as Jamie was superb. I thought Greer Dale-Foulkes as Raphaella wasn't. Bannister, for me, perfectly encapsulated the ennui, followed by growing narcissism, of the obscure artist suddenly thrust into the spotlight. His place there owes much to the efforts of Raphaella, the lawyer who left her husband only to find herself slowly turning into the man she loves.

And it was here that Dale-Foulkes ceased to be convincing. At first, she was brilliant: chillingly effective as the brittle career woman with clear priorities. But as these were altered, so her performance changed. Particularly in the more emotional scenes - in which Bannister excelled - she delivered her lines with such flatness that it doesn't seem entirely cruel to question whether English is in fact her first language.

This is why my Approval Points are all over the place. I've given it a number that I think it deserves: it's well-directed (although I'd question the use of blue-outs rather than black-outs, and some truly dodgy sound effects), and you should SO go and see it: it's not often that you see New Writing do so much, and so well. It's just that something of such ambition deserves the best, and I'm not sure it's there yet. Iron out the kinks, and writer Claire Wells might have come up with something very good indeed. You might notice I've not being my normal assertive self throughout this review: it's because this genuinely is something you need to make up your own mind about. If you can bear the late night, though - this is Cambridge, after all - I'm certain you won't take much persuading.

George Reynolds

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