February 9, 2011
The audience was markedly short of parents yesterday evening (the traditional cannon fodder of student opening nights), as this is definitely not the sort of thing an aspiring thesp is going to want their parents to see them doing, unless they have a remarkably open relationship. It’s way beyond risqué. How can I put this? Remember the hilariously gross masturbation jokes from There’s Something About Mary and American Pie? Magnify by a factor of ten and you have Restrictions May Apply, a scandalous romp of a bedroom farce in which no punches are pulled. Hats off to the brave cast, who in the course of the performance are called upon to be repeatedly stripped to their undies, and discovered engaged in ingeniously entertaining sexual activities – I won’t go into details as there are a couple of superb shock moments that would be spoiled.
And yet in a way the play is charmingly old-fashioned. It has a set, made of the traditional wobbly flats with doors that refuse to stay closed; people rush or sneak in and out of rooms, hide in wardrobes or on balconies or under duvets; you could almost be watching Brian Rix in the 1960s, if it weren’t for the material. (Brian Rix in his day was allowed nothing naughtier than salacious double-entendre. Not so in 2011!)
It has a plot, a classic Plautine plot based on mistaken identity, but of a hotel rather than a person. Here’s the set-up. Mark and Izzie have been together for two years, and seeking to put a bit of vim back into their love-life, have booked a weekend break (using Daily Express coupons) at a small hotel near Tintagel, noted for hosting Arthurian events. The vim is going to be provided by pretending to be strangers to one another, so that grumpy computer nerd Mark can seduce sensual, sex-mad Izzie all over again. Sadly for this plan, the hotel also contains a drop-dead gorgeous sexual predator in the shape of Mel McKay, determined to service every woman who crosses his path with the assistance of his ‘professional equipment’, a bag full of quality SM sex toys, and Elaine Bull, a chaste and prudish animal welfare worker who used to go to school with Mark. The hotel proprietor, Arthur, is a delightfully plain-speaking Yorkshireman struggling to cope with the demands of his bossy German wife Morgan and tormented teenage son Lance. Pop into the mix a packet of Viagra disguised as a packet of paracetamol, light the blue touch paper, and retire.
Lance is probably the most demanding role and certainly the funniest; a mere slave to his hormones and desperate for a shag, poor Lance is ritually stripped, exposed, humiliated and tortured until the very last moment of the play, when he is left manacled to a bed covered in baby-oil as the audience file out, slightly stunned but chuckling gleefully. Kudos to Rory Fazan for throwing himself so convincingly into this excruciating part; Ashleigh Wheeler as Izzie, Ziad Samaha as Mel and Jack Plant as Arthur were also outstandingly good, and the whole thing was performed with a delightful energy and zest.
I was sitting behind a member of the production team last night, and one of the best parts of the evening for me was to observe how utterly hilarious he found his own play, literally gasping for breath in some scenes – when you consider how many times he must have sat through it that is a real testament both to the material and to the performance, which I’m guessing was raised to a whole new level by the addition of an audience.
So, if you’re not going to be grossed out by plentiful semen jokes, enjoy!
And yet in a way the play is charmingly old-fashioned. It has a set, made of the traditional wobbly flats with doors that refuse to stay closed; people rush or sneak in and out of rooms, hide in wardrobes or on balconies or under duvets; you could almost be watching Brian Rix in the 1960s, if it weren’t for the material. (Brian Rix in his day was allowed nothing naughtier than salacious double-entendre. Not so in 2011!)
It has a plot, a classic Plautine plot based on mistaken identity, but of a hotel rather than a person. Here’s the set-up. Mark and Izzie have been together for two years, and seeking to put a bit of vim back into their love-life, have booked a weekend break (using Daily Express coupons) at a small hotel near Tintagel, noted for hosting Arthurian events. The vim is going to be provided by pretending to be strangers to one another, so that grumpy computer nerd Mark can seduce sensual, sex-mad Izzie all over again. Sadly for this plan, the hotel also contains a drop-dead gorgeous sexual predator in the shape of Mel McKay, determined to service every woman who crosses his path with the assistance of his ‘professional equipment’, a bag full of quality SM sex toys, and Elaine Bull, a chaste and prudish animal welfare worker who used to go to school with Mark. The hotel proprietor, Arthur, is a delightfully plain-speaking Yorkshireman struggling to cope with the demands of his bossy German wife Morgan and tormented teenage son Lance. Pop into the mix a packet of Viagra disguised as a packet of paracetamol, light the blue touch paper, and retire.
Lance is probably the most demanding role and certainly the funniest; a mere slave to his hormones and desperate for a shag, poor Lance is ritually stripped, exposed, humiliated and tortured until the very last moment of the play, when he is left manacled to a bed covered in baby-oil as the audience file out, slightly stunned but chuckling gleefully. Kudos to Rory Fazan for throwing himself so convincingly into this excruciating part; Ashleigh Wheeler as Izzie, Ziad Samaha as Mel and Jack Plant as Arthur were also outstandingly good, and the whole thing was performed with a delightful energy and zest.
I was sitting behind a member of the production team last night, and one of the best parts of the evening for me was to observe how utterly hilarious he found his own play, literally gasping for breath in some scenes – when you consider how many times he must have sat through it that is a real testament both to the material and to the performance, which I’m guessing was raised to a whole new level by the addition of an audience.
So, if you’re not going to be grossed out by plentiful semen jokes, enjoy!