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Marc(Aden Gillett), Yvan (Sean Walsh) and Serge (Chris Harper) Art Belgrade Coventry ***** Yasmina Reza's French-language play ART has gained a bizarrely cult status since its premiere in October 1994 - exactly 30 years ago - at the Comédie des Champs-Elysées Theatre in Paris (Europe's oldest continuous theatre company, founded in 1680). By 1997 its second Paris cast included the great Jean-Louis Trintignant. Its fame in the UK roared to rare heights thanks to three things: the first-rate translation (as here) by Christopher Hampton; the outstanding production by Matthew Warchus (he went on to direct it on Broadway); and its truly remarkable casts. The first featured Albert Finney, Tom Courtenay and Ken Stott, but there followed countless 'big' names: Henry Goodman, Warren Mitchell, Edward Woodward, Roger Allam, Art Malik. The show ran in town from 1996 for an incredible six years, achieving staggering popularity. Each of these, and others, contributed to the astonishing fame ART has achieved. Is it deserved? Well, yes and no. A fair amount of hype has frankly accompanied it since then. In three decades it has become a kind of 'in' show. 'Fashionable'. 'Must be seen.' The publicity handbill for this in many ways excellent version claims, 'You'll roar with laughter.' A misnomer, clearly. There were a few light, tentative titters from this audience - admittedly at the right moments - but little more. There was comedy, but intermittent; or perhaps one should say, admirable, but too subtle. And yet it mopped up an Olivier Award for Best New Comedy; a New York Drama Critics' Circle and Tony Award for Best Play; and an Evening Standard Award for Best Comedy. Why any of those? A lean year? Beats me. But to be fair, ART is in fact a high-quality three-hander, not all absorbing or entertaining, provocatively obscure in places, but very neatly crafted, and fast-moving. Its trialogue depends wholly on its three nicely contrasted characters here: Marc (Aden Gillett), Serge (Chris Harper), and Yvan (Seann Walsh). These three close chums' constant banter is snappy, their combativeness mostly amicable; they play verbal tennis, and if all goes well, we are intrigued and drawn into the match. The absolute quality of these three performers, nearing the last stage of a forty-plus evening tour, leaves one simply amazed. From all three, there was a brilliant vivacity and freshness as if they were just starting out on their tour. Their delivery was exceptional. Gillett's Marc certainly won the laurels for the early scenes. He cut a rather distinguished figure, though not averse to flaring up with the odd oath, while still loyal and supportive. He is a good friend, given to telling the truth. Truth about what? Harper's insuppressibly happy Serge (a well-paid dermatologist?), supplies the amusing point of contention: a painting (or canvas) four foot by five foot which he has purchased for £200,000 and which is totally . . . white. Serge produces it at the start and seeks congratulation, indeed adulation, for his amazing insight. An achievement like no other. Worth every penny. Marc (highly accomplished, an aeronautical engineer), out of honesty, feels obliged to call Serge's new purchase 'shit' and the vast expenditure insane; much of the early bits focuses on this exchange. There will be more when the third character, Walsh's somewhat down on his luck Ivan, turns up, and humour in the way he, by contrast, feels constrained to lend approval to the blank-looking canvas.
Seann Walsh, Chris Harper and Aden Gillett. Pictures: Geraint Lewis As it happens, the real work of 'art' on display was the set design for Iqbal Khan's constantly lively, relevant and on the ball production. Two large, jagged creations, one in blue, one of orange, an overriding wooden upper frame and matching bench and table (walnut), with varied use of different coloured neon bars, seemed themselves well up to the standard of modern art. To this add a perfected use of spots and light switches, where one speaker has an extended passage, and set and lights were one of the major reasons why this staging was so inexhaustibly tip-top. But it's with the arrival of Seann Walsh's Yvan that the fun really begins. Reduced to peddling stationary for his prospective father-in-law's company, first of all he is cajoled into approving Serge's purchase ("Yes, yes, yes...yes...yes...; no, no, no; alright, alright, yes, more or less alright"), the ludicrous term he comes up with about the white monstrosity being "resonance; yes, certainly a resonance" - he is given to inanely repeating words or phrases, and comes up with another infuriating formula: "I did't like the painting but I didn't really hate it", "It has a white background", evincing from Marc, who accuses Yvan of not holding any serious opinions, the opposite: "The older I get the more offensive I hope to become." "You're marrying a Gorgon'. It's Yvan's astounding set pieces (at least four meaty and impressively gripping) soliloquys that bring the greatest delight, even though they, tediously harping on about his impending wedding, and other irrelevancies, partially diminish the quality of the script. Having started with the painting (which keeps painfully reappearing) the text has a habit of, perhaps less admirably, to losing its way, or at least its cogency. And yet it's certainly Yvan who brings out so much fun, with a wealth of unrivalled acting. The range of Walsh's faces, his puzzlement, his scowls, his optimism, determination, languidness, excitability, his twaddle-cum-waffle about "the dynamic of evolution" is quite astonishing. Indeed, with all these three clever, polished performers on stage, you could easily feel you were not so much exploring Beckett or Pinter as back in Beyond the Fringe. What a masterly trio. A lesson in tight delivery. So, whatever you think, or make of, ART - and I still retain my own doubts - there's no doubt that these three performers gave us an absolutely first-class viewing. Roderic Dunnett 15-10-24 |
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