Ingenious: the Globe's Romeo & Juliet reviewed

Cul-de-Sac feels like an ersatz sitcom of a kind that’s increasingly common on the fringe. Audiences are eager to see an unpretentious domestic comedy set in a kitchen or a sitting-room where the characters gossip, argue, fall in love, break up and so on. TV broadcasters can’t produce this sort of vernacular entertainment and they treat audiences as atomised members of racial ghettos or social tribes. And they assume that every viewer is an irascible brat who can’t bear to hear uncensored language without having a tantrum. The result is that TV comedy often feels like appeasement rather than entertainment.

Theatre producers are keen to fill the gap, and the latest effort by writer-director David Shopland declares its ambitions in its title. Cul-de-Sac is set on a housing estate where Frank and Ruth are busy destroying their marriage. Ruth lounges on the sofa all day drinking sherry and mourning the loss of her career as a therapist. Frank is a depressed salaryman who rants and raves obsessively about a mysterious Mercedes parked by his kerb. The couple make friends with a timid bisexual neighbour, Simon, whose wife has just run off with his brother. More characters arrive. Marie is a beautiful, nerdy evangelical who recruits worshippers for her husband’s church by knocking on strangers’ doors. Her latest disciple, Hamza, is a Kurdish businessman who owns the Mercedes that blocks Frank’s drive. Thus the messy social circle is complete.