Reviews

The Guardian


How many Alan Ayckbourn characters does it take to change a lightbulb? The answer – at least according to Absurd Person Singular – is six: one to attempt suicide with an exposed light-fitting and five others to remain so blithely wrapped up in their own affairs that they fail to notice.

Following the fortunes of three wildly incompatible couples over three consecutive Christmases, Ayckbourn based his drama on the observation that you can discern much about a person from the fit of their kitchen. Hence we have the Hopcrofts (spotless Formica and sparkling white goods); the Jacksons (knotted pine, filthy oven) and the Brewster-Wrights (temperamental Aga and malfunctioning Victorian boiler). The play's satire of the early 1970s get-rich-quick culture remains prescient, even grimly prophetic: the staggeringly unscrupulous Sidney Hopcroft is an uppity property developer with a taste for manipulative party games who literally has the rest of the characters dancing to his tune.

But Ayckbourn's 40th anniversary revival is chiefly remarkable for its undercurrent of Chekhovian despair. There's a dramatic mastery at work that doesn't even require words to find expression: Ayesha Antoine's catatonically depressed Eva remains mute for the entire second half. But there's also a reminder of the brilliance of Ayckbourn's throwaway lines, such as the sublime Sarah Parks, as the alcoholically disoriented Marion Brewster-Wright, feigning interest in a new washing machine: "Whites and coloureds. My God, it's apartheid." Ben Porter has a sinister edge as the upstart Sidney, while Laura Doddington, as his mousey spouse Jane, channels her mounting neuroses into obsessive cleaning. Few plays expose the pressures of the festive season to such devastating effect: it's as if all your worst Christmases have arrived at once.

Daily Mail

Alan Ayckbourn’s 1974 comedy hails from the days when bank managers were respectable members of society. Remember them? Me neither.

The sexual politics, with wives standing by their awful husbands, are old hat, too.

But if Absurd Person Singular looks past its sell-by date in some respects, it remains singularly fresh and funny in others.

The story features three couples, each hosting a doomed ‘do’ that’s designed to reflect the class strata of the day.

Each couple resembles the kitchen where the action is set. First, the lower-middle class pair with their fully fitted units, accessorised with what the lady of the manor calls ‘insistent’  curtains ‘crying out to be drawn’.

Then, the mix-and-deliberately-don’t-match decor of the middle-class Bohemians.

Finally, the posh kitchen of the bank manager and his wife, where the Aga saga of their lives is played out.

Ayckbourn’s jokes remain sprightly in old age, and the infectious esprit de corps of his company more than carries the long evening.

Laura Doddington and Ben Porter are perfect as a pair of young social climbers.

Ayesha Antoine is a sterner presence as the depressed wife of Richard Stacey’s failing Geordie architect and Bill Champion is a charming old stick as the bumbling bank manager baffled by women — including his wife, played with frightening accuracy by Sarah Parks.