(seen at the afternoon performance on 11th July 2026)
Fresh from the bleakness that is “Equus” at the Menier Chocolate Factory, the monkey finally ticks off the elusive “Black Comedy” from the same thrillingly theatrical mind of Peter Shaffer.
Written for the National Theatre’s 1965 Chichester season, it literally leaves our cast in the dark as a struggling artist and his fiancé prepare to meet a extraordinary and eccentric patron of the arts.
Only problem is that the apartment block’s main fuses have blown, and it all happens in total darkness. Shaffer naturally reverses the environment so that we can see when they cannot.
Elliot Griggs is up to the task of such inventive lighting, and Simon Daw somehow manages two effective period set designs. Jade Gooch’s stage managers and the cast change them surreptitiously, adding to the visual fun.
It all helps director Caroline Steinbeis and Physical Comedy Consultant John Nicholson in the task of choreographing blundering moments to look natural, while preventing the joke becoming repetitive.
Brindley Miller (Joe Bannister) is a two-timing rat of a sculptor. Ineffectually reasonable, Bannister requires only a thin layer of slime and oil to slither between two lovers, one angry father, an even angrier neighbour and a mildly confused upstairs resident.
Leah Haile is Carole Melkett, the fiancé whose military father Colonel Melkett (Jason Barnett) has descended for a visit.
Haile is intoxicated with Brindley, deferential to her disappointed dad. We feel genuinely the pain of her betrayal.
Barnett brings an excitingly aggressive edge to his role, refusing to lose face as sanity collapses around him.
Slipping into the room and causing all to slip, Patricia Allison’s Clea is excused her machinations. Expanding our perceptions in a single sequence, we perhaps realise she is far too clever for Miller – yet is the woman for him.
Neighbours Harold Gorringe (Simon Manyonda) and Miss Furnival (Julia Hills) likewise have pivotal moments playing to their strengths.
Gorringe is celebrated as a rare stage portrayal of a gay man when homosexuality was illegal in the UK. Manyonda refuses to indulge in simple campness, instead weaving a fascinating life from his lines, about which we would wish to know so much more.
His outrage at finding his home raided is credible, and he makes an “inevitable” work – even though it is obvious from the beginning.
Blessed with comedy genes, Julia Hills also ignores stereotypes and produces a rather gutsy elderly lady who eventually grows to enjoy the situation.
Late in the day, Chris Chilton’s Schuppanzigh saves the day with a little confusion, and Javier Marzan blunders in as the long-awaited Georg Bamberger, teetering tantalisingly around a hole…
Shaffer’s wit and some inspired fresh angles on the material are lively, but this may not quite have the feeling of speed and zest of its early productions. We can see the quality, but also the cloudiness of time.
Modern writers remove verbiage where physical comedy can say far more. The languor can be felt here, and even adding a slightly smarter pace cannot always help land the humour as quickly as today’s audiences can demand.
Still, this is a well-chosen team in a timely reminder that when it comes to art and the art of relationships, you can always rely on the British to descend into farce.
3 stars.