The great Scott is worth the wait
AFTER numerous false starts, Andrew Scott finally got his hour on stage in this hypnotic monologue about a feckless Irish father, written by Scott’s former partner Stephen Beresford.
The trouble started at the end of July when the first of five performances was cancelled after Scott was struck by a non-Covid-related indisposition. He then had ‘minor surgery’, the run was deferred for a few days and later postponed indefinitely.
Part of the Old Vic’s In Camera fundraising series, the play was eventually staged late last week.
And it was worth the wait. Three Kings is an exquisite, brilliantly dark piece about a young man in search of the love and approval of his charismatic father: a Dublinborn barfly and self-styled businessman. It may not be autobiographical but it has a chilly ring of truth, told from the point of view of a son who loathes and yet adores his dad.
Bottling that ambivalence is the brilliance of Scott’s mercurial performance, broadcast from the empty Old Vic. Playing all the roles, he eyes you the same way the father does his son — erupting into rage when attention wanders, as hard core boozers do.
There are eccentricities in Matthew Warchus’s production, such as the 1960s-car-chase music between scenes, and other sound effects which fall flat on Zoom. But I had the good fortune to watch this twice, and as soon as it was over, I wanted to see it again.
It’s a total mystery to me why the Old Vic aren’t selling unlimited numbers of tickets. But I will be astonished if it doesn’t resurface soon.