Ian Rankin’s A Game Called Malice takes a brave stab at bringing Inspector Rebus to the stage

Ian Rankin's A Game Called Malice takes a brave stab at bringing Inspector Rebus to the stage

As a seasoned theatergoer who has seen her fair share of spy dramas, I must say that The Spy Who Came In From The Cold at the Minerva Theatre, Chichester, is truly a chilling and thought-provoking production.

Rebus: A Game Called Malice (Cambridge Arts Theatre and touring)

Verdict: Hostilities and lies

Approximately one out of ten crime books sold in the UK are penned by Sir Ian Rankin’s Inspector Rebus series, and the intricate, labyrinthine streets surrounding Edinburgh Castle serve as a metaphor for the perplexing mysteries that Detective Rebus unravels.

As an ardent devotee, I can attest that a masterful novelist has the power to breathe life into a city, manipulate the intricacies of time and space, and immerse me so deeply within the mind of the investigator that it feels like I’m living their experiences; this essence is beautifully captured in screen adaptations.

In a daring move, while under lockdown’s constraints, Rankin chose to pen a stage play and restrict its setting to a single room.

The room is impressively spacious and houses a congested assortment of paintings illuminated by spotlights (a significant collection from 20th-century Scottish colorists, playing a crucial role in the storyline). Initially acquired by Harriet’s first spouse, they have since piqued less interest from her second husband, Paul, who tends to favor gambling activities instead.

Ian Rankin's A Game Called Malice takes a brave stab at bringing Inspector Rebus to the stage

Therefore, the guests attending are Billy Hartman, a charmingly dubious casino owner known as Jack, and his social media influential partner Candida. Lawyer Stephanie, who exudes an intriguing mix of coolness that makes one question whether she’s a potential murderer or romantic interest, brings along Rebus as her plus-one.

The room fills with ominous beats from the music, followed by a lighthearted chat about a murder-mystery scenario involving butlers and wine cellars, along with comments on Jack’s doubtful background, as the lights dim.

Meanwhile, in a casual comment, the character Rebus (a witty, lively Gray O’Brien) mentions his desire to bring down Casino Jack.

Backstage, the chef Brendan might be deceased by the intermission. A murder mystery involving a genuine corpse? It seems like a tribute to Agatha Christie, but this time taking place in Scotland and incorporating modern technology such as mobile phones (Jade Kennedy’s Candida, an Instagram-worthy enigma, spends much of her time searching on Google).

The production, in a laid-back, Sunday evening television style, is somewhat cumbersome, and despite the diligent attempts by director Loveday Ingram to keep the actors active, it unnecessarily spends too much time delving into character histories (with Rankin being a novelist, who also collaborated with Simon Reade on the script).

In the second act, things heat up as secrets and deceptions unravel, revealing truths about various matters – from a supposed gift in Dubai to a vase that may hold stains of a tragic past. As for Brendan, we’ll find out soon enough whether he’s truly met his end.

In Cambridge until tomorrow, then touring to November 30.

Stoppard’s sparkling romcom still fizzes

By Patrick Marmion

The Real Thing (Old Vic, London)

Verdict: Romantic Coca-Cola

Tom Stoppard and Alan Ayckbourn, both well into their eighties, are two of the most seasoned playwrights in English theatre. Known for their works that delve into the complexities and comedic aspects of love, their plays continue to attract large audiences.

1982’s comedic exploration of infidelity, titled “The Real Thing” by Stoppard, can be seen as a subtly autobiographical portrayal of the playwright’s own emotional struggles, caused by repeated encounters with Cupid’s arrow.

As a seasoned lifestyle advisor, I find myself often reflecting on the complexities of human relationships. In this instance, let me share a tale about a middle-aged playwright named Henry, who embarked on an unexpected journey. Stepping away from his marital vows, he found himself drawn to the alluring charm of an actress called Annie. This captivating character was initially portrayed by Felicity Kendal in a production opposite Roger Rees. Notably, Felicity and Stoppard’s relationship blossomed following this role, demonstrating the profound impact that shared experiences can have on our personal connections.

In other notable instances, we’ve seen pairs like Jeremy Irons with Glenn Close and Stephen Dillane alongside Jennifer Ehle. Here at The Old Vic, we present James McArdle and Bel Powley as our latest duo.

The play appears rather dated – as Henry addresses Annie disrespectfully by saying “silly cow” and instructing her to “just be quiet and pay attention.” Additionally, Stoppard’s focus on the grandeur of Shakespeare and defining exceptional literature sometimes seems disconnected from contemporary sensibilities.

However, the novel’s clever humor, intricate storyline, and Henry’s relentless search for genuine affection (the ‘real thing’) make it still captivating for contemporary readers.

The main task for the primary actor is to convincingly portray Henry as someone other than Stoppard. For McArdle, this requires transforming the reserved yet universally appealing figure into a primarily amiable, public school-type character. Although a bit more bite might have added depth to his character, when Henry’s bravado falters and he becomes vulnerable, McArdle manages to strike a genuine emotional chord.

As your trusted lifestyle guide, let me introduce you to a character I’ve come to know as Annie, portrayed by Powley. She might seem like a sweet, kittenish figure at first glance, but don’t be fooled. Beneath that innocent exterior lies a depth that is both captivating and complex.

Peter McKintosh’s minimalistic setup, characterized by electric blue, white, and vibrant splashes of yellow, evokes the ambiance of a contemporary boutique hotel, while subtly maintaining an air of its historical context.

Despite needing a hint of lemon to counter its sweet, bubbly Coke-like taste, Max Webster’s creation maintains a lighthearted and lively mood throughout.

Bedroom Farce (Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch)

Verdict: Comic obsolescence

Ayckbourn’s 1975 comedy Bedroom Farce hails from the heyday of mass-produced RAAC concrete.

Reorganizing the unlikely sequence of events involving four pairs moving among three bedrooms across distinct homes on a single night, the situation now seems unstable enough to warrant suspicion of structural instability.

Elderly Ernest and Delia prepare for an umpteenth wedding anniversary, as their son Trevor causes modest confusion at the housewarming of Kate and Malcolm, after his nervous wife Susannah catches him kissing his ex Jan — who’s now married to Nick (writhing in bed like Basil Fawlty after putting his back out). Keeping up?

“Eating pilchards on toast in bed can be quite daring (or adventurous), especially considering the possibility of crumbs.”

It might leave younger, Gen-Z theatergoers puzzled, not only by the mention of pilchards, but also expressions such as “ensure he covers the phone bill” and “it’s unusual for women to be attracted to other women.”

The improbability of characters assembling flat packs in anger at 3am, or seeking sexual counsel from their in-laws is one thing.

But the stakes are so low, that the sheer inconsequentiality of it all simply isn’t funny.

The exceptional, dedicated team led by Alex Thorpe perform admirably under pressure. They’ve shown great resilience in handling the misfortune of a fellow member falling ill, followed by another unfortunate incident where their substitute suffered a personal loss.

Rosie Wyatt and Nadi Kemp-Sayfi have a lively, cheerful vibe similar to Kate and Susannah, whereas Nicholas Prasad and Adam Sopp portray a more masculine, puzzled demeanor like Malcolm and Trevor.

But while Alys Whitehead’s set of Seventies chintz inevitably hits the G-Plan (furniture — look it up!), Ayckbourn’s play sadly fails to find the G-spot.

The Real Thing runs until October 26; Bedroom Farce until September 21.

Tense journey into Le Carré’s morally murky Cold War epic

The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (Minerva Theatre, Chichester)

Verdict: Chilling spy drama

1963 saw John le Carré’s gritty thriller boldly unveil the seedy underbelly of espionage, starkly contrasting the vibrant, escapist portrayals of the first Bond film released the following year. In this movie, numerous villains were dispatched without remorse by a charming, morally untainted hero.

Not surprisingly, the novel blew the young spook’s cover and turned him into a full-time author.

This narrative revolves around Alec Leamas, a solitary British spy, weary of maintaining a facade of dishonesty, of adopting multiple personas and distrusting everyone. His desire is to break free from the shadows and encounter authentic feelings.

In this cold and ethically complex universe, David Eldridge skillfully conveys the essence through his compact and sharp adaptation. Meanwhile, Jeremy Herrin’s taut and moody staging enhances the impact by incorporating powerful visual elements.

A person riding a bike gets hit by a gunshot, causing them to tumble off. The overturned wheel keeps rotating, the shining spokes creating a hum as if the thoughts of those conditioned and controlled for their task were spinning endlessly.

A searchlight sweeps the auditorium. Everyone — us included — is under scrutiny.

Atop a sentry post, overlooking the conclusion of the Berlin Wall, there perches John Ramm’s espionage chief, George Smiley – seemingly meek, yet unsparing in his nature. While he occasionally takes off and cleans his glasses, it is clear that not a single thing escapes his keen observation.

Rory Keenan subtly implies that Leamas’ life under constant watch has taken its toll, skillfully weaving a continuous web of deceit.

I feel deflated, exposed. It’s no surprise I find myself drawn to the captivating Agnes O’Casey in this very library, a stage set by those who pull my strings.

Watching the captivating 1965 black-and-white film starring Richard Burton and Claire Bloom certainly aided in understanding the complex narrative.

However, this skillful group articulates their point effectively and raises a thought-provoking query: Under what ethical circumstances do you find yourself when you resemble your adversary?

Until September 21.

Written by Georgina Brown

2024-09-06 03:20