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FOR THOSE still dazed, confused and downright terrified by Trump’s triumph, Terry Johnson’s 1994 play is the cultural equivalent of comfort food. Johnson — who also directs — is partly inspired by British comedy greats. The action takes place in Eleanor and Richard’s suburban living room, the kind of place in which many a TV comedy has been set and watched.
Suspended above the set are portraits of the kind of comedians honoured by Richard’s fan club — Eric Morcambe, Tommy Cooper, Frankie Howerd — which is to say funny and dead. These pictures are like com- edy gods overlooking the hilarious unhappiness unfolding among the soft furnishings below. And to some extent this is Johnson’s point. For many homes the bad and brilliant comedies transmitted into their living rooms are the only hope of a laugh.
Take — not my wife, but — wife and husband, Eleanor and doctor Richard (the excellent Katherine Parkinson and Rufus Jones). She is desperate for a baby, he can’t bear to be touched. So Katherine Parkinson in somewhat counter intuitively, following the advice of a counsellor, he lies naked on the floor while her fingers prod his body like dough. Nothing could illustrate the dysfunction of this relationship better than this extremely funny, horrifyingly explicit, no-sex scene. The “session” is thankfully interrupted by news of Benny Hill’s death, allowing Richard to direct his energy into hosting a hastily organised tribute to the comedian with fellow geeky members of his dead comedians society. And it’s against this backdrop of comedy quotes and hackneyed impressions that the truth behind Richard and Eleanor’s faltering marriage is revealed. Cleverly, the producers have conscripted TV comedy actors to cast this excellent revival. As Eleanor, Parkinson superbly cap- tures the anger and bewilderment of being inexplicably neglected, while fellow star Emily Berrington is pitch perfect as the bimbo half of another failing marriage.
There is more well-delivered comic timing provided by Ralph Little as her bitter husband and especially Steve Pemberton as “camp as a row of tents” Brian. But the brilliance of the play lies in its ability to use comedy tropes and archetypes to expose fathom-deep unhappiness.
IN MANY ways Cathy and Jamie are opposites. He’s a nice Jewish boy, she’s an all-Americangentile girl. She’s a struggling actor, he’s a successful writer. But in this musical, first seen in 2001, American composer Jason Robert Brown accentuates the dif- ferences by telling the story of their relationship — inspired by Brown’s own failed first marriage — from two opposing perspectives.
During this intertwined engrossing song-cycle Jamie tells his version of the past five years from the optimistic beginning, starting with one of the wittiest songs you will ever hear about forbidden love,
Cathy, however, relates hers in reverse order, starting with the bitter end. The two meet in happy union just once as they swap wedding vows.
Much of the music is soft rock in style but the lyrics and melodies are as sharp as tacks carrying the protagonists — and us —through the emotional spectrum.
Directed by the extremely talented composer, Brown himself, Samantha Barks and Jonathan Bailey are a fine match. Crucially they act as well as they sing. This is the perfect show for a last date.