While my interest in Orange Tree Theatre has cooled in recent years, as I have discovered more theatres that I find more stimulating, I still go there regularly and am prepared to give it any benefit of the doubt when considering whether to see a play there. This is a step down from seeing everything there automatically but it means that I still go there a lot.
The March on Russia seemed like my sort of thing so I reached for my credit card to pay an almost insignificant £15 for set A1, possibly my first time there.
The play was an almost voyeuristic look at a family. A couple were celebrating their sixtieth wedding anniversary and were joined for this by their three children, oddly with no partners or grandchildren.
As they talked about the past, when they the children were small and before that, skeletons stumbled out of the closet in droves.
Somehow, despite that, the play never got anywhere. Many of the stories told by the couple must have been heard many times before and so caused no reaction. And when reaction did come it was unnaturally muted. There were arguments between people who seemingly had never had an argument before and had no idea that they were meant to shout and throw things.
Dark hints were dropped but not picked up. One of the children looked as though they were carrying the bleakest secret all evening but it remained a secret. Throwaway comments were made about extreme behaviours that were not followed up. It was all deeply unsatisfying. There were so many directions the play could have taken but it took none of them, choosing instead to end as if nothing had happened.
The following evening I was in my local pub and one of the regulars there got involved in an inter-generational family dispute and was far more passionate and enthralling than this one.
The set did nothing to help either. I am happy to imagine that there are walls between rooms that I cannot see but a little imagination would have made a lot of difference.
It was almost boring at times and I saw a few closed eyes in the audience. Keeping it alive were the performances from Ian Gelder in particular and also Sue Wallace as the elderly couple. That was a small reward for an evening in the theatre.
The March on Russia seemed like my sort of thing so I reached for my credit card to pay an almost insignificant £15 for set A1, possibly my first time there.
As they talked about the past, when they the children were small and before that, skeletons stumbled out of the closet in droves.
Somehow, despite that, the play never got anywhere. Many of the stories told by the couple must have been heard many times before and so caused no reaction. And when reaction did come it was unnaturally muted. There were arguments between people who seemingly had never had an argument before and had no idea that they were meant to shout and throw things.
Dark hints were dropped but not picked up. One of the children looked as though they were carrying the bleakest secret all evening but it remained a secret. Throwaway comments were made about extreme behaviours that were not followed up. It was all deeply unsatisfying. There were so many directions the play could have taken but it took none of them, choosing instead to end as if nothing had happened.
The following evening I was in my local pub and one of the regulars there got involved in an inter-generational family dispute and was far more passionate and enthralling than this one.
The set did nothing to help either. I am happy to imagine that there are walls between rooms that I cannot see but a little imagination would have made a lot of difference.
It was almost boring at times and I saw a few closed eyes in the audience. Keeping it alive were the performances from Ian Gelder in particular and also Sue Wallace as the elderly couple. That was a small reward for an evening in the theatre.
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