The cast are all capable and I am sure will settle into inhabiting their roles. Lisa Diveney, Richard Heap and Wendy Nottingham are already convincing; their scenes are coherent and believable where others are not. Diveney sparks with attitude, Heap oozes competent, creepy authority and Nottingham shows delightful double-take timing. Alex Beckett gives a rounded performance, and engages us by avoiding being a cartoon simpleton. Out of a caricature dominant wife, Pandora Colin blossoms in the final scene. Daniel Rigby works hard to make Vlad more of a character than simply a plot device. I felt too aware that Alan Cox was acting β working to achieve another laugh β rather than presenting a character who would invite our sympathy before his revelation later.
Director Tim Roseman has not clarified his intentions with this play or smoothed the weaknesses in the writing. We do not have a consistent style or interpretation to drive the play along. There were several set-piece comedy routines (the opening ceremony, learning to use the till) which seemed to halt progression of the story. Several weak jokes are made about a Jewish takeover of the area β why not have the balls to allow Vlad to be shockingly, reprehensibly anti-Semitic? But then why mix in a background Muslim call to prayer? An old fashioned comedy such as this should have irresistible logic upon which to base its confusion, not the muddle we have here.
Did I care when we reached the trite, predictable ending? No. How I longed to be abused, to be shocked out of our comfort zone. This production has a reasonable share of easy laughs, but not enough muscle to survive among the fittest.