Londoners with early mid-life crises are the protagonists in John Donnelly’s fable of contemporary relationships in the sound-bite era. Recalling the 2004 movie ‘Crash’, which interwove stories of loosely connected characters, it’s also a kind of expanded ‘Huis Clos’, Jean Anhouilh’s much-imitated play of unreciprocated passion

Mostly played out in a generic London wine bar with the obligatory flaky foreign bar-girl, John Donnelly’s witty script perfectly reflects the familiar posturing and solipsistic dialogue overheard on tube trains, or, come to that, in wine bars.

Steve (James Hurn), who ‘hurts people’ for a living, is in love with debt-ridden Soley and cares for his mentally-handicapped sister, both unwilling victims of his protective urges. Soley, though willing to ‘fuck him until his eyes bleed’, informs him in a ‘Look Back in Anger’ moment that they have no future because she is a cat and he is a dog, whilst sister Sara just wants to live alone and raise a sunflower. Her bid for independence is encouraged by social worker John, who also drinks at the wine bar and plots to bed sexy colleague Clare; his live-in partner Nic no longer turns him on since she gave up her ideals and took a job in advertising. Sadly, Nic’s tendency to get drunk and use non-pc language with over-friendly clients is incompatible with the corporate image. Track-suit-wearing Peter, played for wistful amiability by Robert Reina, sits in a corner with his lap-top, planning a round the world trip. His relationship scenario is even worse than the others – his wife is having an affair with his father.

So much is grasped from a series of short opening scenes which unfortunately prevent characters being established as individuals, despite strong and believable performances and spot-on costumes. The stand-outs are Bjork look-alike Soley (HannahYoung) in turquoise fishnet gloves and gladiator platform boots as if stepped from a graphic novel, and John, played by black actor Mark Springer. It may be that the minor characters are never onstage long enough, or the women, (Natasha Alderslade doubling admirably as bewildered Nic and Peter’s wife) are there more to provide motives for the men’s behaviour than on their own account, but their impact tends to be lost in the frenetic pace of the production and the dramatic storylines given to Steve and Peter.

Steve's character constantly wrong-foots expectations (at one point literally so) and aspects of his nature seem overly contradictory. His softer side shows in his concern for his sister and his present to Soley of a cat key-ring of his own carving. When he slams chancer John’s head into the bar counter, much to the audience’s satisfaction as John is involved in a sleazy public phone-sex conversation at the time, it seems out of character, despite Steve's self-proclaimed 'minder' status.

The dialogue sparks with funny one-liners, such as Nic’s parting shot to John in a domestic tiff: ‘You always order the house wine!’ or John’s cynical: ‘Everybody feels special when they’re cheating on someone, don’t they?’ Comic scenes like the one where Nic’s supervisor suggests they substitute ‘crumble’ to refer to her use of the c-word touch the right chord of contemporary absurdity, as does the almost unbearable scene where a suicidal Peter tries to get an incompetent Steve to shoot him. Much else, including the lyrical ending, is overshadowed by a plethora of dramatic effects, including a car-crash that seems to take place only a few feet off-stage, stroboscopic sequences and bouts of heavy metal music. It is a play that, loath as I am to say it, would benefit from a bigger venue than the otherwise admirable stage of the Latchmere.


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Correction: Jean-Paul Sartre, not Anhouilh