It
is a risky move for the Criterion to schedule a strand of matinee
events during Olympic peak season, even as part of the Cultural
Olympiad itself. It could pay off handsomely, if enough people want to
get away from the frenzy of the Games themselves by spending an hour or
so in a subterranean West End theatre. However, even on the press
showing a venue of under 600 capacity looked to be less than half full,
suggesting that such a payoff may be a long shot indeed. Perhaps the
turnout for other events in the series will be stronger: it includes
talks and comedy sets as well as the two short plays (each around 50
minutes) staged together for the press but normally playing in
repertoire.
Adam Brace’s
Taking Part is,
in essence, a buddy-movie play. An indefatigably optimistic Congoloese
swimmer is trained for the Olympics by a much blunter and more
realistic Russian coach; when he makes it to London, will his
principles survive? (Hint: no.) Paul Moriarty is not the most plausible
Muscovite, but he glowers and swears well in equal and opposite balance
to Obi Abili’s almost permanent smile. Brace makes a trenchant point
about the stock media figure of the “lovable loser”, explicitly
acknowledging the precedent set by Equatorial Guinean swimmer Eric “the
Eel” Moussambani. No great profundity is intended in a performance slot
like this, but it is a play with a head on its shoulders.
Serge Cartwright’s
After The Party,
in contrast, is unadulterated East London wide-boy comedy. Thirtyish
Sean still has dreams of being a club DJ, but when he and his
MC-wannabe mate Ray try to earn a couple of grand in a couple of weeks
everything predictably goes wrong, from a disintegrating burger van
converted from an advertisement-poster trailer via being scammed by a
beautiful young woman to the awful truth about why they never made it.
There are some nice Games-topical touches (the advert on the “van”,
still half-visible, is for the NHS, and Ray has a cheeky rap about the
opening ceremony, although given the van’s location there is a
conspicuous lack of kettled cyclists), and Kate Lamb steals her scene
as Sean’s girlfriend’s excruciatingly “wigger” sister. But, to mix a
metaphor, this is a piece of fluff which runs on rails.
Written for the Financial
Times.