Review – Power of Sail, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 7th April 2024

Do you remember that rather delicious moment when the students at Brunel University walked out of a meeting when Katie Hopkins got up to speak? That was a perfect way of allowing “free speech” whilst showing one’s contempt for the speaker at the same time. Paul Grellong’s Power of Sail, first seen in the US in 2019, and now making its UK debut, centres on Charles Nichols, a Harvard professor who wants to invite a Holocaust-denying white nationalist to a debate at that illustrious university, thereby upholding the fine tradition of freedom of speech, but then intends to destroy him in argument and make him look like the pathetic wretch he is.

It’s pretty much a given that freedom of speech is a supremely important right. Equally, with free speech comes responsibility. For example, I could say that Power of Sail is a load of old tosh (it isn’t) and then Mr Grellong could come back at me and say that I don’t know my luff from my leech, and that’s all perfectly acceptable. However when it comes to hate-based politics, those rights become somewhat blurred. Certainly Professor Nichols’ students are up in arms against his proposal. So is the Dean, who fears the repercussions. So is his young protégé Professor Forrest. But Nichols is determined to see this through; freedom of speech must have its way. A risky proposal for – on the face of it – such a virtuous objective.

Mr Grellong has structured the play in six scenes, rather like a time version of a boomerang. The first three scenes take us through mid-morning, mid-afternoon and late evening on the same day. Scene Four takes place the following morning and ends with a big revelation that surprises and shocks us. Scenes Five and Six double back on themselves, showing us what happened earlier the previous evening and finally earlier that afternoon. This may sound like a bizarre way of going about things, but the structure does enable missing pieces of the jigsaw to be fitted in, so that by the end of the play we have a much fuller understanding of the motivations of all the characters that otherwise we would have missed if we had just seen the events in linear time. However, a side effect of this structure is that the play ends with a whimper more than a bang. It’s a well-intentioned, character-driven whimper that necessarily makes sense of the whole story; but it’s a whimper nonetheless.

The programme tells us that this production is the result of a play that was written years ago, left in a drawer and then more recently revisited, stripped back, with scenes and characters removed, to leave a sparser and hopefully more truthful and hard-hitting version. There’s no interval – my pet hate – yet there’s a perfect opportunity for a cliffhanger moment that could separate the play into two acts, whilst still retaining its time structure (I won’t say what it is because it’s an important moment of plot development). I suspect the play has been pared back a little too much; the main characters are fascinating creations, and it would have been good to hear more of what they say for themselves. Strangely, scene two, set on a railway station platform, offers little in the way of plot development and I confess I found that scene just trod water. When you assess the play as a whole at the end you realise the scene is not completely pointless, but I can’t help but think the writer could have edited it back more, whilst filling out some of the others. That said, overall it’s a very entertaining script, with some excellent high tension scenes as well as a lot of nicely pitched comedy.

Director Dominic Dromgoole entices some superb performances out of his cast which keep our attention throughout the show, despite the distraction caused by immensely clunky and laborious scene changes that seem to take ages and really add very little to the production – I would have preferred much less set design and for the audience to use their imagination more. At the heart of the play is a terrific performance by Julian Ovenden as Nichols. Bristling with charisma, you can easily imagine how his students are in awe of him; full of bonhomie tinged with just a hint of academic arrogance and the self-satisfaction that he is naturally always right about everything. And like all such people, when you chip away at everything they believe about themselves, you can sometimes reveal a void underneath.

Tanya Franks is also excellent as the Dean, Amy Katz, a woman juggling many roles and appearing to be thoroughly decent in all of them. Ms Franks plays her as a tough cookie and a voice of reason; but of course, we all have our weaknesses. And the always reliable Giles Terera delivers a strong and confident performance as Baxter Forrest, the media-wise, television presenting professor, who has an unfailing ability to smell a rat and a superb way of expressing unpleasant home truths with enviable eloquence.

There’s excellent support from Katie Bernstein as the highly principled student Maggie who is prepared to risk everything for what she believes in, and from Georgia Landers as the FBI officer Quinn Harris, whose interviewing technique pays off in abundance. Michael Benz gives a terrific performance as Lucas, a likeable young man who seems to blunder his way through life – until you really get to know his character in the final scene. Paul Rider does his best as bartender Frank in what seems like the vestiges of a previously larger role. I’m not sure why Mr Grellong didn’t remove the role completely.

A fascinating subject for a play, and in many ways a fascinating play too, although maybe sometimes for the wrong reasons. If you take away one message from it, it’s to watch out for individuals’ motives. They may not always be what they seem. Plenty for you to talk about on the way home. Power of Sail continues at the Menier until 12th May.

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Truth, Menier Chocolate Factory, 24th April 2016

As a result of The Father, Florian Zeller has become something of a star name in the world of dramatists, but I confess this is the first time I’ve seen anything he’s written. As La Vérité, this play was written in 2011 and has been performed not only in France but also Germany, Italy, Belgium and Spain. As The Truth it has been translated by Christopher Hampton and now appears for the first time in the UK.

What is the truth? Sometimes, as this hilarious and cringe-making play shows, it’s not always that easy to tell. You may be lying to your partner if you are having an affair, and presumably your co-affairee (is that a word? If not, it should be) is also lying to their partner. But is that the end of it? Are there further untruths out there? With terrific dexterity, the play shows the tangled web we weave when first we practise…well you know the rest. I can’t say too much about the plot without giving the entire game away, and that would be greatly to reduce the play’s impact; you need to come fresh to its little shocks and surprises right until the bitter end. So that’s all the plot you’re getting from me.

As a teaser, though, the programme gives you the play’s tight structure: seven scenes take you through the Rendezvous, Tightrope Walking, The Lie, Friendship, The Break-Up, An Explanation, and the Truth. When it’s precisely mapped out like this in advance, your mind can follow the clear route from start to finish even though you’ve no idea exactly what’s in store. This helps give the play an inexorable drive and pace, and somehow makes its final conclusion seem even more inevitable. Mrs Chrisparkle and I were thinking afterwards that this would be a most uncomfortable play to watch as a couple if either of you had had an affair. And whatever you do, don’t book this show as part of a let’s forgive and forget process; you might as well hand over the keys your house and move out straight away.

Lizzie Clachan’s stark and sterile set provides an excellent background for this deceptively unemotional play; no place for sentiment here. Instead all the attention is focussed on Michel getting further and further into trouble and trying to extricate himself from the mess. The text delivers cliffhanger after cliffhanger, punchline after punchline, always keeping you on your toes waiting for the next squirm; and Lindsay Posner’s clear and pacey direction helps keep the fast and furious plot development as the topmost priority.

Weaving its way through the web of deceit is a superb performance by Alexander Hanson as Michel. Hardly ever off stage, he self-degenerates from urbane, rather smarmy and selfish lover to quivering wreck. As he starts to realise that he is just as sinned against as sinning, his retaliations and defences become more and more ludicrous, so that he comes across as a self-pitying spoilt git without the slightest degree of empathy. It’s a beautifully funny performance, full of fantastic timing and great energy. It’s not often you see Captain von Trapp with his pants around his ankles – don’t worry, it’s all done in the best possible taste.

For the plot development and reveals to work fully, it’s necessary for the motivations of the other characters to be not quite so obvious. Frances O’Connor’s Alice, carrying on the affair with Michel behind her husband’s back, is delightfully aloof at times, providing just enough sexual allure to keep Michel coming back for more but holding back too so that we can’t quite see where she’s going. Their phone call scene where Michel has to pretend to be Alice’s aunt is a Laugh Out Loud Riot. Tanya Franks gives a great performance as Laurence, Michel’s wife, pointedly asking him difficult questions, slowly revealing she knows more than he thinks she knows, making him dig deeper to get out of his already substantial hole. And anything she might be hiding comes to the surface with subtle brilliance. Perhaps it’s only Robert Portal who slightly underplays the role of Paul, Michel’s best friend and Alice’s husband; he successfully keeps his cards close to his chest but at the same time you slightly wonder why Michel would have him as his best friend, because not quite enough of the “best friendliness” comes out in his performance. Still, maybe Paul knows something we don’t know…

But this is a minor quibble. It’s a fascinating and hilarious play, perfectly structured, and with a marvellous central performance. One hour 25 minutes at a push; for some people that is music to their ears, so they can get on and do other things; for others (myself included) you can’t quite help the feeling of being slightly short-changed. Back in the day, that would have constituted one half of a double bill of two one-act plays. But better a short performance of this play than none. There is talk of a transfer; why not? It’s enormously entertaining and really deserves it.