All undressed and no place to go

THEATRE REVIEW

It was she who picked him up, in a café — something we learn she makes a habit of doing. Rebecca loves sex, and is vociferously unapologetic about it. She’s determinedly promiscuous; Steve is merely casually promiscuous. The play seems to be suggesting that it’s only sexist prejudice that makes that distinction but, partly because of an imbalance in the performances, it doesn’t work out that way.

The play’s crisis point comes when Rebecca is fired from her hospital position, after being caught in the act with a patient. Steve offers her a job, and even a home, taking care of his paints and his brushes and especially his business affairs which apparently could do with it. With her assistance, his career flourishes; and with his encouragement, she develops her own interest in painting. This last piece of the action carries no conviction at all. In its second half, the play seems to be marking time, along with the relationship it depicts. Its ending is pre-ordained, but it takes a couple of sentimental detours before getting there.

Both performances are physically alert and adroit, with Michelle’s body-language especially striking when faced with what she knows will be her letter of dismissal: first recoil, then resignation. Vocally, though, she’s unremittingly abrasive, where he is pleasantly easy-going. So when he does erupt, he has variety on his side. He gets the sympathy, which may not have been the intention. His most unforgivable action in her eyes is, it seems, to say he loves her. His final action, though, is really mean. Though as a effect, it too is sentimental.