The current hits range from madcap hilarity to Shakespeare
On Broadway straight drama is a waif, proffered an occasional crumb of grudging acceptance; in London it sits at the head of the theatrical table dispensing "a largess universal, like the sun." Herewith a sampler of three offerings—a scintillant farce, a strong message play and a classic:
NOISES OFF
by Michael Frayn
Farce is the art of not keeping madness at bay. Michael Frayn has written an insanely funny play on precisely that premise. Act I of Noises Off consists of the dress rehearsal of Act I of Nothing On, a play that is about to tour the provinces. The set is a cheerfully bright living room with stairs leading up to bedrooms and a clothes closet. The house appears to be deserted. But no, Mrs. Clacket (Patricia Routledge), the housekeeper, is on the premises. Routledge is a one-woman aviary, walking, cawing and almost flying like a bird.
Soon, a real estate agent (Nicky Henson) appears, not to show the house but to have a weekend shack-up with his Popsy (Rowena Roberts). He knows that the couple who own the house have slunk off to Spain for a tax dodge. What he does not know is that they are about to slink back. In no time, sheiks and burglars are added to the mix, along with the mandatory defrocking of women and the depantsing of men and doors popping open and slamming shut as if by the ghost of Feydeau.
Except that one door is adamantly stuck. It is one more maddening problem for the director (Paul Eddington), who divides his time between lechery and Valium. He has to cope with a woozy old ham (Michael Aldridge) who makes only two kind of entrances: pre-cue and post-cue. "I thought I heard my voice," he says blearily. And then there is the Stanislavski Method actor who wants a profound psychological reason as to why he has to exit with a plate of sardines.
Sexual liaisons and betrayals have turned the cast into a nest of hissing adders by Act II. They have to hiss; the setting is backstage during an actual performance of Nothing On at Weston-super-Mare. Eddington hands out three gifts: a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of whisky and an ax. These pass from hand to hand as swiftly as batons in a relay race. The action is a testimonial to Director Michael Blakemore's tornado pace and stopwatch timing.
Act III falters a bit, but by then Frayn has piled up a mountain of laughs. He has also contributed a highly perceptive analysis of the fragile, precarious nature of that potent illusion known as theater. If Pirandello had ever written a farce, this would be it.
GOOD
by C.P. Taylor
Overhead, arcing tiers of lights blaze down on a few scattered folding chairs and an upright piano with a high sounding board. But the only significant illumination in Good is internal; this is a drama that takes place entirely inside one man's mind.