Some might be tempted to find something contemporary in Marber’s depiction of lustful impulses overriding all, where sex and deceit go hand in hand with the dawning of the age of the internet. But what resonated strongest for me was the outdated manner in which the two female parts, but Alice in particular, are written. Despite Rachel Redford’s best efforts, Alice never breaks through the distasteful male fantasy gaze that posits her as an enigmatic stripper who just wants to be loved by a man (and not just any man…yes, you) – it’s enough to make even the most homosexual of men feel dirty.
The dalliances and infidelities that plague the interactions of all four of Marber’s characters cast no-one in a good light though. Rufus Sewell’s Larry blisters into ugly violence, Oliver Chris’ Dan practically revels in his self-doubting, self-destructive tendencies and even Nancy Carroll – how very lovely to see her back on stage again – isn’t immune as her Anna cannot seem to get past her restlessness. And so round and round the merry-go-round they all go, slipping into relationships, marriages, affairs, internet chatrooms with each other but never able to settle.