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By
Tim Bearder
I grabbed
my coat, bustled through the door and grumbled all the way to the
Burton Taylor. Like a spoilt child I want to be next door at the
Playhouse watching the much hyped A Streetcar Named Desire.
But,
oh no, another reviewer on the list had snapped that one up nice
and early. Here I was, arms folded, scowling. Pah! - what misery.
But
hang on, what's this? It's quite funny. Actually it's very funny
and clever and dark and moody. How could I have doubted Alan Ayckbourn
and a cast of talented Oxford Students - what a fool I've been?
I delighted
in being fixed in a mental fight with the playwright as he quipped
with reality and hinted at half truths allowing his cast to let
me into the secrets of his carefully crafted mystery just when he
wanted them revealed.
To
look through the window into mind of the writer the glass must be
crystal clear. The cast of this play never once allowed it to become
frosty. I was particularly enamoured with Gerald (Dan Proctor) who
put in a perfectly comical performance. Chris Chalk was very Hugh
Grant and Cliodhna McAllister as Muriel was simply excellent.
Finally
Susan played by Caz Brown held everything together effortlessly
allowing the play to swirl from the extreme light to the bleak dark.
This is a play that has everything and if you fancy something a
little different from the crowd round the corner you must go and
see it.
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