'Consent' is a play about the law and those who practice it. It concerns itself with the comings and goings of a small group of London legal people who strike adversarial positions in public while maintaining equivocal private friendships that fatally blur when one of them (Edward, a louche barrister) commits an act of marital rape on his wife after she leaves him for his despised professional rival, Tim (a typically chaotic CPS lawyer).
From the first scene - a post-christening party for Edward’s newborn - authoress Nina Raine makes the point that these are small but relatable people: they get drunk, smoke spliffs and take the Mickey out of each other (sometimes rather too acutely for comfort) while frankly despising the system which affords them their living. As legal practitioners, they are unconscionable hacks, making light of the serious issues their work involves (‘I’m raping a lot of people at the moment’, Edward blithely comments) and turning a blind eye to the lives their successes or failures affect. When a woman whom Edward humiliated in a rape case gains access to the south of the river location where the legal types are Christmas-partying to find Tim, her failed advocate, also among the assembled, her comment is on the money: ‘You’re all on the same side, aren’t you?’
Into this potent, if becalmed, mix strays Zara, a fringe theatre actress with a ticking body clock and desperate ovaries: the wives try to fix her up with Tim. There’s no immediate chemistry but that doesn’t stop Zara from becoming a shuttlecock (apt word) in Edward and Tim’s developing hostility, which increasingly takes on a sexual element. In fact, the scene in which Edward and Tim attempt to explain court procedure to Zara (who is up for a role in a legal-themed tv series), while both becoming overtaken by their own private agendas, may be one of the most skilfully written in all modern drama. It’s a shame it didn’t quite achieve its full impact here, being somewhat undermined by an intrusive cafe bar soundtrack and the absence of the last degree of tension in the playing.
Other scenes in director Tara Lacey’s production had more success: a party which sagged beautifully under the weight of the guests’ unacknowledged recriminations was excellently judged, and what may be the play’s central theme - that the law and those who practice it are sorely lacking in empathy for those whom they affect - was forcefully brought home. Dave Crossfield, in the emotionally gruelling role of Edward, presented a man who, despite the awful things he said and did, never entirely forfeited our sympathy. James McCabe was convincingly clueless and diffident as Tim, though unfortunately for the play’s central joke (and fortunately for Mr. McCabe!), he looks nothing like a hamster. There’s also an excellent supporting performance from Gareth Cooper as Jake, the friend and colleague whose own serio-comic marital travails act as counterpoint to Edward’s and Tim’s.
Many thanks to the Loft Theatre for allowing me to review 'Consent' so late in its run (it finishes tomorrow). It was well worth seeing.
Reviewer - Paul Ashcroft
on - 12.5.23
Interesting that you name, and praise, the three male actors but not one of the four female cast members gets a mention.
ReplyDeleteReviewer writing:there is no obligation on a critic’s part to mention cast members because of their gender. The male actors in this production gave strong and well-projected performances. The female members were not their equals. Would you have preferred me to put it like that?
ReplyDeleteI can't help but feel you have missed the entire point of the play. (By the way, it may be worth noting that Nina Raine is a playwright not a female authoress). Perhaps you should find a copy and read it? I also don't understand the importance or relevance of whether or not the actor cast as Tim actually looked like a 'hamster'? Surely your penmanship should have been used to identify the areas of the plays plot which raised the issue of Consent and it's importance and whether or not it was effectively executed by the ensemble of actors on stage? And brought to life by the director, and team of technicians involved? It may also be worth noting that the ensemble was made up of both men and women (regardless of whether or not you enjoyed their performances). Your review suggests that you enjoyed the party scene in which the whole cast participated in, therefore it is striking that you do not mention the work of the women on stage involved in this piece of important and strong contemporary theatre. Your review was and is a wasted opportunity to critique an award winning play with a pertinent topic. We are all entitled to our opinion but if you are going to hold yourself up to the high standards of a reviewer then perhaps you should learn them.
ReplyDeleteReviewer replying (belatedly): the infelicitous phrase ‘female authoress’ was not mine and not used in my original review: you may be interested to know that the review as written is sometimes altered by other hands on its journey to publication. I would describe Nina Raine as ‘a playwright’ - her gender is not relevant in this case - and (as I think my review makes clear) I have nothing but admiration for Consent as a drama. I both read it and saw it before I came to review this production and I’m afraid I stand by all the points I made. The actor playing Tim, whose performance I admired, was not obvious casting for a character who is meant to be on the margins of the group because of his taciturnity and lack of self-assurance: and my remark, which was meant to be light-hearted, was intended as a compliment to said actor and, by inference, to the director who cast him and coaxed such an effective performance out of him (whether they chose to take it as such or not, I’ve no idea).
DeleteYes, perhaps I should have discussed the play’s plot and themes in more depth but one thing I have learned as a reviewer is that readers in 2023 have only a finite amount of time and attention that they are prepared to give to the written word - and both themes and plot were amply discussed in the original reviews. The play is now, deservedly, on its way to being well-known and one of the few worthwhile dramas of the last decade; and due to circumstances beyond my control, I reviewed the play the night before it closed, for which opportunity I’m grateful to the Loft.
Yes, I’m aware that both male and female performers participated but - to reiterate a point I made in an earlier comment - I didn’t feel the women did justice to their roles as the men did justice to theirs. Naturally, I would prefer this to have been otherwise; but what do you want me to do? Be untrue to my own opinion, lie, or - and this would, I feel, have been most unwelcome - make the crude point that the women failed to project, resorted to vocal and postural cliches and generally didn’t make the most of the rich material they were given?
The impression your comment leaves is that you’re angry because my opinion differed from yours; please be assured that I’m not angry that yours differs from mine. :)