Perth Theatre
2 stars
The runaway success of Charlotte Jones’ country elegy is an odd one. First produced at London’s National Theatre in 2002, its toffee-nosed rewrite of Hamlet appeared as the perfect counterpoint to a generation of self-conscious edginess, and, perhaps because of this alone, cleaned up a bundle of best new play awards. The action, if that’s not too strong a notion, centres around Felix Humble, the foppish prodigal and eternal astrophysics student who returns to the bosom of his Cotswold garden for his father’s funeral. With his mother Flora already preparing to tie the knot with the boorish George Pye, Felix’s attempts to shut out the ghosts of the past are distracted by old flame Rosie, who also happens to be George’s daughter. The colony of bees Felix’s father once tended have long gone, but a buzz remains.
As elegantly realised as it is in Ian Grieve’s new production, for all its classical roots, the point of it all is questionable. That’s not saying there aren’t some charming moments. The accidental eating of the father’s ashes, contained in a honey-pot, is priceless, while George’s drunken ‘watering’ of the flower-bed proved too much for the sober sensibilities of some Saturday matinee punters, who fled at the interval.
Otherwise, Jones’ allegedly contemporary play is so far out of time as to resemble a little bit of England that only exists amid the sedative languor of Sunday night television occupied by ageing extras from Brideshead Revisited. The eccentric tics that Grieve’s cast, led by Steven McNicoll as Felix, attempt to pass off as characterisation, are the staples of such a diet. Sweet then, but utterly lacking in sting.
The Herald, March 5th 2007
ends
2 stars
The runaway success of Charlotte Jones’ country elegy is an odd one. First produced at London’s National Theatre in 2002, its toffee-nosed rewrite of Hamlet appeared as the perfect counterpoint to a generation of self-conscious edginess, and, perhaps because of this alone, cleaned up a bundle of best new play awards. The action, if that’s not too strong a notion, centres around Felix Humble, the foppish prodigal and eternal astrophysics student who returns to the bosom of his Cotswold garden for his father’s funeral. With his mother Flora already preparing to tie the knot with the boorish George Pye, Felix’s attempts to shut out the ghosts of the past are distracted by old flame Rosie, who also happens to be George’s daughter. The colony of bees Felix’s father once tended have long gone, but a buzz remains.
As elegantly realised as it is in Ian Grieve’s new production, for all its classical roots, the point of it all is questionable. That’s not saying there aren’t some charming moments. The accidental eating of the father’s ashes, contained in a honey-pot, is priceless, while George’s drunken ‘watering’ of the flower-bed proved too much for the sober sensibilities of some Saturday matinee punters, who fled at the interval.
Otherwise, Jones’ allegedly contemporary play is so far out of time as to resemble a little bit of England that only exists amid the sedative languor of Sunday night television occupied by ageing extras from Brideshead Revisited. The eccentric tics that Grieve’s cast, led by Steven McNicoll as Felix, attempt to pass off as characterisation, are the staples of such a diet. Sweet then, but utterly lacking in sting.
The Herald, March 5th 2007
ends
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