The Review - THEATRE by REBECCA FIELDING Published: 10 July 2008
More painful than Tim Henman’s blooper reel
GRAND SLAM King’s Head Theatre
AN air of promise beguiles the English in the tennis season. Similarly brimming with possibility, Grand Slam attempts the fairytale of a British triumph at Wimbledon by the unlikely hand of long-legged blond Madeleine Rochester (Rachel Pickup).
Teamed with a rough-around-the-edges, ex-con-cum-bodyguard (Sam Spruell), Madeleine negotiates her way through round after round, fuelled by superstitious pre-match ritual: a diet of pills and potions and the attentions of a mysterious perverted stalker. This unlikely pair rattle around in a Wimbledon house, culminating in a painfully predictable relationship.
What has the potential to emerge from the delightful shadows of the intimate King’s Head Theatre as a witty portrayal of two classic British extremes of character – the supercilious self-importance of the wannabe celebrity and aspiring do-gooder Rochester and the brash ill-mannered cockney ex-con – falls woefully short.
Pickup and Spruell try their best to inject a vague air of believability in their roles, but the script is little more than the semblance of a poorly constructed plot, punctuated with lacklustre attempts at deconstructing both characters to reveal two deeply dissatisfied people.
Instead of these characters becoming transformed for the better by their association, they resort to flirtation and alcohol consumption to suggest some liberation from their malcontent lives.
Evans clearly wants his audience to root for the potential in this unlikely duo; sadly, we are unmoved.
At best this is an attempt to remind us of layers which lurk beneath the surface of who we pretend to be.
In reality, however, it is a listless production which confirms the words of Arthur Miller that “drama… ought to help us know more, and not merely to spend our feelings”. Until July 27
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