Pinteresque night not for alll

YOU have to admire London Classic Theatre and its director, Michael Cabot, for touring shows that often have little in the way of mass market appeal.

“Waiting for Godot”, last time out, proved the company is willing to endure sparsely filled auditoria if it must, and the company’s latest production goes one better ­— or worse ­— depending how you look at it.

Opening night at the Coliseum saw no more than three or four rows’ worth of patrons for Harold Pinter’s “The Birthday Party”, an acknowledged classic of the genre ­— the genre being one Pinter pretty much invented.

Characters are outwardly amusing or affable but this hides vacuous, sinister or just plain nasty, ulterior motives, in a way that leaves the evening a fairly unsatisfying one despite snatches of nervous humour.

Pinter cuts a swathe through truth and honesty and, indeed, through plot and character. Meg and Petey Bowles ­— proprietors of a boarding house that probably isn’t, treat lodger Stanley ­— who might be a concert pianist, but probably isn’t – like a son, despite his nastiness to Meg.

Interlopers Goldberg and McCann ­— whose first names change apparently on a whim ­— seem charming and open but hide terrible character traits of their own, and their birthday party for Stan, though he insists it’s not his birthday, turns very sour indeed.

Surrealists

For the modern age this is possibly all a bit too little for its own good. When it was written ­— 1958, one of Pinter’s first plays ­— it was a flop despite riding a wave a avant garde euphoria that followed Beckett and the other surrealists.

In some ways this is another work, like them, divorced from reality, but cleverly wearing modern clothes, speaking everyday language and set in a mundane seaside house.

Michael Cabot’s production, like many from this company, is workmanlike and wants for little in terms of character and performance. Cheryl Kennedy is wonderfully dim as Meg, and there isn’t a below-par performance among the group, with Jonathan Ashley another stand-out as Goldberg.

I wasn’t sure what the point of the raised platform on the stage was, since it added nothing but an unnecessary change of height, and perhaps a view of a below-floor crawl space that suggested lots hidden under the surface: very apt.