Review of ‘Abigail’s Party’: “La commedia è finita”

Mike Leigh’s 1970s classic returns to the London stage through this new revival starring theatre and television star Tamzin Outhwaite. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if this savage domestic reunion ends up bringing the house down.

I find myself browsing through Forbes magazine as I start writing this review. There’s a double reason why I’m doing that. Firstly, to remind me of how poor I am (the position to become my Sugar Daddy is still open – and so I am…). Secondly, to go through their endless top list, be surprised by the fact that I’m not featured there (cheap pun, but made you chuckle), and even more shocked to discovered that, in their collection of most dangerous jobs, humourists are not included. Fair enough, though – that may need an appendix on its own. But it’s rather striking to observe the way comedy evolves – and how things that back in its day may have been hilariously funny can easily age in a completely different direction.

The hype for a theatrical return of the stage and TV play Abigail’s Party is fairly justified. An all-time 70s classic that’s endured in the minds of so many, now coming back to where it belongs with an A-list lead – the expectation can’t be nothing but high. But as much as this piece has prevailed in people’s imagination over the course of the years, their memories may have been tainted by the embellished taming of nostalgia – with newcomers, perhaps, going through a pretty different experience to what’s been anticipated.

Don’t get me wrong: there are still a few moments when you won’t be able to resist a good chuckle. And however unacceptable you may think the situation is (and by all means, I do hope you believe so about domestic abuse), the true virtue of a dark comedy is, precisely, its unvirtuous morality that allows it (and us) to laugh at the unlaughable. Yet, the blurred intentions of the script as for if its selfish, argumentative and, ultimately, cruel protagonist, either intentionally or not, added to the double standards society has systematically shown towards some victims of mistreatment, can end up making you feel quite uncomfortable.

Even if we put those issues aside (despite their considerable weight), we can’t anyhow ignore the fact that the plot presents a very small, almost missing story arc. Going through exposition after exposition, there’s nothing that actually happens other than the guests arriving and getting pissed off by their unwelcoming host. Apart from that, and it’s rather confusing (though understandable) ending, the play struggles not only to move the plot along, but to properly deliver one – leaving us with a feeling of unfulfillment, which added to the overall repetitiveness of its humour and lack of structure (specially during Act Two), makes of it a not too memorable impression.

In any case, we can still praise some members of the cast for squeezing the possibilities of the material to very last drop – and more than a few times, also improving it with some extra contributions of their own. Among them, the most notable appearances are made by Kevin Bishop and Tamzin Outhwaite  as protagonists Laurence and Beverly – both delivering their parts with impeccable flair and timing, while also bringing charm and magnetism into their characters despite their questionable likability (particularly, in Beverly).

A product of its era that seems to play offbeat with the cadence of today, Abigail’s Party may still find its place into the hearts of those who treasure it in its origins, but will possibly find it difficult to expand that tenancy into the current first meeters. With a serious lack of narrative and evolution all throughout, its comical effect wears down rather dramatically as one ponders about what it’s really trying to convey. It’s high in energy and rich in camp, but despite its title, there’s very little room for celebration.

All pictures credit to Mark Senior.

Abigail’s Party plays at London’s Theatre Royal Stratford East until 12 October. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara