There’s been some talk recently about whether theatres have become too reliant on old favourites rather than taking a punt of new drama. Shakespeare often has the finger pointed at him for his ubiquity, but Alan Ayckbourn is surely a contender for most (too?) often staged.
Ayckbourn, as all creative people should be, is a decisive figure, often dismissed as lightweight and twee by critics who don’t like his family-centric comedies. But he’s certainly a hit with the late middle aged home counties set, who within mainstream theatre at least, usually make up the largest chunk of the audience, so each Ayckbourn is a bums-on-seat cert.
While not being – quite yet – in my late middle-age, I for one have always rather enjoyed – admittedly through half closed-eyes – his over-the-top family farces that border on the distasteful.
A Small Family Business, widely-regarded as one of Ayckbourn’s best and more biting plays, premiered at the National Theatre in 1987 and returns to the Olivier with a grand set and a solid unstarry cast. The production keeps the 80s setting, so we get some ironic 21st century wink-wink moments about CD players, but on the whole, with its themes of greed and self-interest, this is an era-transcending play.
It’s the story of Jack McCracken (Nigel Lindsay), a good man with morals so rigid that his wife, Poppy (Debra Gillett) is constantly bumping her head on them in an attempt to keep him and their two daughters in the style they have become accustomed to. He’s just been recruited into his in-laws furniture firm to help re-address its recent misfortunes and soon discovers that he is an island of integrity amongst a sea of fraud and greed. Will Jack throw his good guy towel into the immoral ring or stick to his principles? As an Ayckbourn play it’s unlikely to end with everyone happy…
The play is a long one and while it smoulders amiably, it never really catches fire. The problem I found with A Small Family Business was that it felt, well, rather small. The Olivier theatre is a huge space to fill, both physically and historically, and this production felt a little lost in its hallow walls. Tim Hatley’s elaborate set didn’t help; the suburban house that stood in for all the characters’ homes looked impressive – it’s bigger and probably sturdier than my flat – but it rather stole the show, swamping the cast and and creating some problematic blind spots. I’m used to watching plays behind pillars and through rails, but one of the Olivier’s great bonuses is its democratic seating; you can usually see as well in the gods as you can in the front row.
A Small Family Business is billed as a black comedy, although it brings into light relief the gruesomeness of human nature too vividly to be truly funny. There were noticeably few laughs throughout this production; the S&M jokes went down like a deflated blow-up doll, whether they went over the audience’s head or, as I think, because they got rather lost in the hullabaloo.
There is much to admire about the production, the choreography of the staging and the understated acting in what is a less than subtle satire on Thatcher-era avarice. Nigel Lindsay is a captivating, impressive Jack and the other actors are accomplished more overblown foils to his solid presence. Matthew Cottle as Benedict Hough, the private investigate brought in by Jack to save the family business only to then try and sabotage it, was genuinely creepy as the plot reached it high-pitched crescendo.
The National’s A Small Family Business was still in the preview stage when I saw it and will no doubt have some its bagginess tightened by press night. It’s a good, solid production with plenty of enthusiasm that just doesn’t feel quite big and fresh enough.
by Suzanne Elliott
For tickets and more information visit www.nationaltheatre.org.uk.