Every Good Boy Deserves Favour

I wasn't planning on making a habit of seeing first previews but I seem to have managed two in under a week. "Every Good Boy Deserves Favour" should be a logistical nightmare, the kind of show that requires previews, yet to all intents and purposes it's in far better shape than "Complicit" was at it's first performance. A symphonic orchestra supporting a play by Tom Stoppard, I could almost cry with joy. It's not his greatest play, but an electrifying sixty-five minutes it most definitely is.

Written some time ago, the piece still resonates today owing mostly to the fact that little has changed. What's most effecting is it might not just be the Russians anymore (As "Complicit" was at pains to point out). Stoppard's conceit of a disturbed individual who believes he has an orchestra in his head feels at times more of a means to an end than truly necessary, but not quite to the point things start feeling contrived. Regardless, this is a play with a serious point and Stoppard makes it in his inimitable style, blending serious laughs with very intelligent, philosophical dialogue (often at the same time) Previn's music gives the show a soaring filmic feel but his music leans towards the schmaltzy. To add to this, the creative team have taken the piece off the page and produced an impressively visual, constantly engaging show.

The bare designs, a sharp angular corridor driven through the orchestra (the Southbank Sinfonia) laid out across the stage lit by piercing white light, are fantastically evocative, open yet somehow extremely claustrophobic. The sudden very physical dance work (intriguingly most of the dancers seem to have come from the equally original PunchDrunk and their "Masque of the Red Death") comes out of nowhere and effectively notches the tension up. The performances are pretty stunning across the board. Toby Jones makes for a very appealing Ivanov (the actually mad inmate), balancing the child like buoyancy with an almost sorrowful air. Joseph Millson takes the other major role, the difficult part of the imprisoned political dissident. He held the audience in the palm of his hand from the very beginning and the complex alphabet speech carried searing power. Dan Steven's conflicted doctor was constantly amusing and little imagination was required to believe in Bryony Hannah's careful performances as a small boy.

An interesting play that is weighed down by it's own intelligence but ultimately has enough heart to rise above mere intellectual interest. Novel in conception, this production takes the interesting ideas and gives them a very elegant spin. Fine performances all round make this an evening of serious merit. For practical reasons it's a piece that's unlikely to get another revival in quite sometime and even if it did, I can't imagine it could be done any better. Worth seeing.