Review of ‘The Gift’: “That’s hardly a wrap”

Park Theattre hosts the London premiere of this new comedy play dealing with the mysteries surrounding an unexpected crappy message. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show, to let us know if its toilet humour ends up doing a dung good job.

We’ve all done some stinky stuff in the past. I, for once, just left mine in the can this morning. If you think that’s kind of a sh*tty joke – well, that’s literally the point. And so it seems for Park Theatre, which last night celebrated the opening of their latest play, dealing with a whole load of rubbish – once again, words to be taken verbatim.

The Gift made its London debut last evening. A new comedy, penned by Dave Florez and directed by Adam Meggido, it would not be far-gone to say that this is a rather crappy plot – because that’s genuinely how it is. It’s a story that falls between two stools; well, actually just one – beautifully wrapped (I’ll give them that) in a high-class bakery box with the ability to beam down in full Pulp Fiction swing.

In case you haven’t got it yet, this is about a man receiving a package containing fecal matter, and spending the following two hours attempting to find who’s done it – and perhaps, who made it, too. Weird premises apart, its potential could still be sizable if handled the right way – I think I need a shower after typing that last line… But no matter how hard they try to polish a turd through the art of comedy, the piece barely ends up smelling like a rose. In fact, the result is quite the opposite, as anticipated – sadly, it’s not really funny.

A dump of tired cliches and much dated, predictable jokes, the humour struggles to land through the entire performance – with very little success other than an occasional, forced chuckle that’s unlikely to materialize ever again. Devised as a farce, its comedy feels, nonetheless, incredibly constipated – with every role depraved of proper definition to the extent of not even constituting an archetype, and relying on an exceedingly unnatural writing style that makes the recount look, overall, slightly pooped.

With a script struck by diarrhea of the mouth, and showing next to no development in action or character evolution, we can still give credit to the cast for putting together a more than laudable rendition – making the experience a bit more digestible thanks to their exceptional stamina and reinvigorating chemistry. Yet, this is not enough to make of this production a kick-ass job, as a thorough revision is unavoidable in order to excrete the major flaws its key aspects are stained by.

A potty tale in every sense of the term, The Gift brings on a not-too-complicated, but still promising idea to the stalls, but comes up with too an uncanny delivery that strives to make of its absurd concept an intelligently stupid journey. Fudging its issues through overused and admittedly shallow resources, it’s the lack of originality that prevents any good prospects from ever coming out. It could have been a silly treat should its appeal not be thrown down the drain so impenitently. But as of now, just like its core element, the narrative is wistfully a big waste.

All pictures credit to Rich Southgate.

The Gift plays at London’s Park Theatre until 1 March. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara