Richard Bean appears to be Hampstead Theatre’s in-house dramatist, and his new effort, House of Games, is based on a 1987 movie directed by David Mamet.
The script sets up a rather laborious collision between two vastly different cultures. A gang of small-time crooks in Chicago are visited by a beautiful, high-flying, Harvard-educated academic who wants to investigate their lives. The catalyst for this unlikely set-up is therapy. Dr Margaret Ford is a successful shrink whose latest book has become a bestseller and she needs a new theme to write about. She speaks to a troubled young patient who owes $2,000 to a betting syndicate and when she visits their seedy gambling den she’s welcomed by the crooks and given an integral role in the team. Just like that. Her job is to observe a drunken card player and to raise the alarm if he gives a ‘tell’ by touching his crucifix during the game. Margaret performs her role brilliantly and she’s embraced by the thugs like a long-lost sister. Despite her chic clothes, perfect hairdo and educated manners, she fits in perfectly with the druggie hoodlums. She even persuades them to let her write about their criminal hustles in her next book. By this stage, Margaret has started to dispense sexual favours to certain members of the gang and this may explain their readiness to accept her as a colleague. To prove her worth she helps them persuade a couple of strait-laced bankers to join a corrupt game of Texas hold ’em.
This daft narrative keeps throwing up more and more twists that seem barely credible. But as soon as the curtain falls you start to ask questions. Why does Margaret agree to withdraw a huge sum of cash from her bank while wearing a bloodstained blouse? What’s her motive for seducing a fat, unshaven criminal, called Mike, as if he were America’s most eligible billionaire? How come she doesn’t freak out when a mentally unstable patient produces a loaded pistol in her office? And so on.
This show is like a fantasy conjuring trick, or a magical game of badminton, which the dramatist and the spectators agree to play in order to waste two empty hours. The experience leaves no trace of itself on the mind.
Jonathan Kent’s effective production uses a pair of ingenious sets, arranged as a double decker, which are nice to look at. Lisa Dillon plays Margaret, the Harvard bombshell, very credibly but she’s hardly stretched here. She’s enacting the role of a chess piece – a queen who may be a pawn – rather than a fully realised human being. At least Hampstead wants to entertain its audiences. Too many modern shows set out to make us feel angry or guilty about matters we can’t influence.
The Deep Blue Sea also wants to dazzle us with its down-at-heel brilliance. Terence Rattigan’s 1952 play is a magnificent domestic tragedy abut a failed marriage. Hester Collyer has left her dull but prosperous husband, Sir William, for a dashing, hard-drinking test pilot, Freddie, who seems to have a death wish. The action begins with Hester trying to kill herself but her attempted suicide is foiled by her landlady with the help of a disgraced former doctor, Mr Miller.
The wonderfully detailed script works through revealing gestures and tiny throwaway moments that turn the story on its axis. A phrase like ‘he’s playing golf’ or ‘it was my birthday’ can deliver as much emotional impact as an earthquake or a heart attack. Even the apparent faults in Lindsay Posner’s exquisite production may be intentional. Hester and Freddie’s flat looks far too shabby for a posh couple on the run. Can’t they fix the torn wallpaper or throw a few embroidered fabrics across the knackered furniture?
Tamsin Greig, as always, seems to be performing a role that was written with her in mind. A faultless turn
Nicholas Farrell, as Sir William, is a charming old buffer with a walking stick who seems to have hobbled in from the wrong era. His wing collar, goatee beard and black Homburg make him look like an imitator of Edward VII and his obvious frailty reduces his attractiveness to Hester. A sprightly and virile Sir William would make him a more credible rival for the dynamic Freddie. Selina Cadell plays the gossipy, eavesdropping Mrs Elton without overdoing it. Tamsin Greig, as always, seems to be performing a role that was written with her in mind. A faultless turn. Finbar Lynch gets a big laugh as soon as he enters as Mr Miller, the riddling healer with a criminal past. That laugh spells danger. Lynch could easily turn his part into a crowd-pleasing cameo and tilt the show in his direction. But he refuses to take that option. He shines as the moral conscience of the piece who advises Hester to choose pain rather than death. Subtly and unobtrusively, he makes the production his own. But he doesn’t steal it.
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