Theatre Royal, Glasgow
2 stars
“What is it your generation call it?” asks one old stick of the trendy young professor as he espouses radical support for the hallowed halls’ impending strike action. “Letting it all hang out?” In 1976 when Michael Frayn’s university reunion set farce made its debut, such fuddy-duddy lines of enquiry might have had some kind of state-of-the-nation pertinence. Attempting to dress up its motley crew of graduates in contemporary apparel, though, as Michael Simkins’ touring production of Jeremy Sams’ original revival does here simply doesn’t stand up.
As the MP, the surgeon, the journalist, the gay vicar and other well-heeled flunkies convene after 25 years, only the Godot-like one-time wunderkind Roddy Moore is missing. Into his rooms is seconded Norman Pace’s Snell, an ill-fitting commoner who stayed off campus who nobody remembers. The pivot of what follows is Sara Crowe’s Lady Driver, who as plain Rosemary Gilbert was object of every under-graduate’s passions but ended up marrying the university’s Master. Cue off-the-leash grown-ups regressing into little boys, extended kiss-chase shenanigans and the inevitable politician with his trousers round his ankles.
Which is all well and good, but in 1976, shortly after Thatcher had been installed as Tory leader, this would have been the class of ’51, a post-war world of difference from the 1982 that’s suggested here
There’s no doubt of Frayn’s genius as a master farceur, nor the ability of a semi TV friendly ensemble cast to scamper in and out of old school quarters with increasingly frenzied abandon. Any serious points about how the establishment are bred for success in an atmosphere of class snobbery, however, are lost in an update too far.
The Herald, November 13th 2007
ends
2 stars
“What is it your generation call it?” asks one old stick of the trendy young professor as he espouses radical support for the hallowed halls’ impending strike action. “Letting it all hang out?” In 1976 when Michael Frayn’s university reunion set farce made its debut, such fuddy-duddy lines of enquiry might have had some kind of state-of-the-nation pertinence. Attempting to dress up its motley crew of graduates in contemporary apparel, though, as Michael Simkins’ touring production of Jeremy Sams’ original revival does here simply doesn’t stand up.
As the MP, the surgeon, the journalist, the gay vicar and other well-heeled flunkies convene after 25 years, only the Godot-like one-time wunderkind Roddy Moore is missing. Into his rooms is seconded Norman Pace’s Snell, an ill-fitting commoner who stayed off campus who nobody remembers. The pivot of what follows is Sara Crowe’s Lady Driver, who as plain Rosemary Gilbert was object of every under-graduate’s passions but ended up marrying the university’s Master. Cue off-the-leash grown-ups regressing into little boys, extended kiss-chase shenanigans and the inevitable politician with his trousers round his ankles.
Which is all well and good, but in 1976, shortly after Thatcher had been installed as Tory leader, this would have been the class of ’51, a post-war world of difference from the 1982 that’s suggested here
There’s no doubt of Frayn’s genius as a master farceur, nor the ability of a semi TV friendly ensemble cast to scamper in and out of old school quarters with increasingly frenzied abandon. Any serious points about how the establishment are bred for success in an atmosphere of class snobbery, however, are lost in an update too far.
The Herald, November 13th 2007
ends
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