False expectations

Here’s an idea from the heyday of radio comedy. A soap star about to get the chop improvises an unscripted deathbed recovery during a live broadcast in order to save his career. I think it was Tony Hancock who starred in that sketch. To expand it into a full-length play would be quite a challenge. And in the 1960s Frank Marcus, a showbiz journalist, took on the job. And he struck gold. The Killing of Sister George triumphed in London and on Broadway. Now it’s back with a cast of starry comediennes.

Sister George, a district nurse, is the leading character in a popular Radio 4 soap opera. One day, on a whim, the BBC execs decide to bump off the character. This calamity tips the actor over the edge, and her woes are compounded when her sexy blonde flat-mate decides to ship out and find new lodgings.

This material might make a decent slice of comic knockabout but it all feels desperately slothful and dated. A play about showbiz needs to know its subject inside-out and to strike every note with unerring precision. But the script is as full of holes as a cobweb. Why the nation’s best-loved soap star is being tossed overboard isn’t fully explained. And the actress’s lack of alternative employment is another unsolved puzzle. The first half is a yawn that keeps on yawning. Only in the latter stages, when the lesbian subplot emerges, does the show acquire some bite and pathos. And at this point I realised what’s wrong. This isn’t a comedy at all but a melodrama about the hidden interface between power and lust.

Casting comediennes here was a blunder. It created false expectations. Some of the acting is powerful.