"My uterine contractions have been bogus for some time”
The adage about theatre audiences turning to comedies in times of economic
hardship is being increasingly borne out in the West End and with the arrival
of What the Butler Saw at the Vaudeville, the Strand gains its second 1970s
would-be laugh-fest. But as with The Sunshine Boys, my funnybone was far from
tickled as this is a world of humour I just do not get. In Alice Power’s
efficient, if needlessly quirky in its protuberances, set design, Joe Orton's
farce plays out in a psychiatric clinic in which all manner of mayhem is
unleashed when a government inspector pays a visit at the same time as a doctor
tries to seduce a young woman applying to be his secretary whilst his wife has her own sexual shenanigans to hide.
Orton's intentions were clearly to subvert the farcical form here, to
provoke traditional audiences out of their comfortable glow with his
deconstruction of sexual and societal values, but this production simply
doesn't reflect that intelligence. What we get instead is something that plays
as a straight-up farce. And for fans of the genre, there are some moments to
enjoy, especially in the hands of Tim McInnerny's sweatily lascivious Dr
Prentice and Samantha Bond's nymphomaniacal wife. But the production starts off
in such a high-octane gear that there's nowhere left to go but increasingly
overboard in the endless chase for cheap laughs.
The biggest offender here is ultimately Omid Djalili as the visiting Dr
Rance. Djalili does little to convince that he has much (any) range as
everything is delivered in his customary bombastic style: occasionally this
works as some of his lines suit this delivery but more than not, the character’s
subtleties are largely bulldozed and one is simply left with the impression
that this is just a continuation of his stand-up schtick. Conversely, the
younger members of the cast make little real impact. Georgia Moffett is
curiously unemphatic onstage as the would-be secretary and though Nick Hendrix’s
randy bellhop is undeniably well suited to the various states of undress he
finds himself in, there’s little than can be achieved with the role.
Sean Foley’s direction always seems to err on the side of the farcical
largesse: so much of the dialogue is thrown away as the focus remains on over-egged
mugging and horseplay – I felt sorry for what Jason Thorpe had to endure as the
policeman – and the focus of the humour is thus fatally skewed. Particularly, the
numerous and extended jokes about rape fell horrendously flat for me in this
case: not having been convinced of the suitability of the context, I looked
with dismay at the people hooting around me at what I found to be rather
distasteful. Foley also fails to allow any build-up of momentum, so the
production ends up being extremely one note. Some people may like the one note
that is played, heaven knows the press night audience lapped it up, but if you’re
not a fan of horribly dated productions stuffed full of rape jokes, then I’d
advise steering clear.
Running time: 2 hours 10 minutes (with interval)
Programme cost: £3.50
Booking until 25th August
Labels: Georgia Moffett, Jason Thorpe, Joe Orton, Nick Hendrix, Omid Djalili, Samantha Bond, Tim McInnerny
