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Forget dice, laughter is the best therapy!`
THE DICE HOUSE
Hen and Chickens
IN Luke Rhineheart’s cult 1971 novel The Dice Man, an unfulfilled psychiatrist delivers himself from the slavery of normal life by devolving his every decision to a roll of the dice.
The book’s cover insists that it will change your life. Perhaps, but only if you are an incorrigible idiot.
This is the take offered by Paul Lucas, whose play depicts a commune in the English countryside run by Dr Ratner, a messianic loon in latex nurse’s uniform (a commandment of the dice) who preaches an all-liberating “dice therapy”.
His rule is challenged by conventional psychiatrist Dr Drabble, whose wife also happens to be his star patient. Drabble has more than just theoretical jousting in mind, with a lurid scheme to trouser a life insurance policy.
The whirlwind of events that follow – attempted murder by éclair, dismemberment, the reunion of lovers from previous lives – are skilfully handled by director Stephen Glover, who keeps the energy levels high. The cast, too, are charismatic and effective, with Phineas Pett hilarious as a doe-eyed paranoiac, unaware that his hallucinations are real.
Thanks to them, and the author’s broad comic touch, this raucous farce is brimming with gags, from neat punchlines to dice-decreed pubic hair shavings (“These dangly bits are a devil!Arcola”).
Lucas has also done well to shoot down the novel’s treatment of randomness as a liberating philosophy. Choosing to absolve yourself of responsibility for your decisions is not an authentic gesture. It is, as Mr Lucas rightly observes, a joke.
Until January 31
020 7704 2001 |
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