You’ll be mesmerised by this vile music-biz lizard in a leather shirt
PLAYWRIGHT Joe Penhall is the creator of Mindhunter on Netflix, but in theatre he’s best known for his 2000 play Blue/Orange, about two psychiatrists dueling over a psychotic black youth.
Penhall’s new play at the Old Vic, Mood Music starring Seana Kerslake and Ben Chaplin
(pictured), is about a young Irish singer and her middleaged male producer.
You may already have guessed who is the goodie ( and who the baddie) and sure enough, Chaplin turns out to be an emotional reptile, exploiting the green talent of Kerslake’s songwriter.
He bullies and manipulates her to secure creative copyright of the album they make together.
Meanwhile, she tries to work out how she collapsed, drunk, on tour in Pittsburgh only to wake up 2,000 miles away in Los Angeles, half an hour before she was due on stage. Questions of sexual predation hang over Chaplin, but it seems the roadies are to blame, so Penhall keeps the more abstruse question of copyright on the boil. Lawyers bicker, therapists offer psychological profiles. But the fun of this slick but shallow play lies in Chaplin’s devious character, who admits to being controlling — ‘ but only if I don’t get my way’. A lizard in a leather shirt, he deploys a nasal London accent as he circles his prey. The trouble is, he’s never threatened, and doesn’t change. Only Kerslake’s Cat has any kind of journey with her moody but vulnerable singer, haunted by memories of her dead father.
Gradually, Chaplin becomes a bore, because he’s a cast-iron creep; and Kerslake, because she’s a virtuous victim.
The supporting actors are all theatrical caddies, selecting clubs for the two leads. The best is Neil Stuke as Chaplin’s lawyer — a harassed heap of bohemian bonhomie.
Pip Carter as Chaplin’s shrink makes no more headway than we do, and Jemma Redgrave offers only psychobabble as Cat’s earnest therapist.
Director Roger Michell turns out a polished production, with Hildegard Bechtler’s set thrusting into the audience under a galaxy of recording studio microphones.
Behind, is a white box with seats for the actors. So it looks cool, like an arty record cover; and the dialogue is snappy. But at the end, it felt like an album with one good track.