Review of ‘Sweetmeats’: “Savourless rom-com is a dramatic laughing stock”

London’s Bush Theatre presents this new play about two elderly people unexpectedly finding a second chance to fall in love. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the piece to let us know if its candy-coated narrative shows any cavities.

Not much is happening on the Bush Theatre’s stage at the moment. They might have a show, but that show doesn’t have any action. Not the kind that’s worth investing an hour or two in, that is. And certainly, not the kind that should take its chances with an interval.

There’s very little to love and too much to reject in Sweetmeats, a new romance about two older people who grow fond of each other after attending several diabetes checkups together. Although it features a solid starting point, its potential doesn’t take long to undergo a drastic change in status. I wish that had been sublimation. Instead, it completely evaporates by the time the second scene unfolds.

I am not opposed to overly edulcorated romances. Sure — seeing other people happy makes me bitter, but that is not the point. If you want to go all sickly and deliver an endearing tale of two broken, solitary souls finding peace in each other, do it — but do it well.

One can’t simply expect that idea to work on its own without any extra elements that add some rhythm, individuality, connection, and above all, entertaining qualities. Nothing of the sort ever comes across, even remotely, throughout this recount.

The plot is bland and stagnant — apart from the rough concept of two elderly people falling for each other, there is nothing in it: no fun situations, no adventures, no real moments of introspection, growth, or transformation.

Consequently, we cannot root for the characters, because there’s nothing to root for in the first place. Not only are their profiles vapid, but their journey is insignificant, both outside and inside. And other than my poor brain needing a sugar boost to prevent it from going into full shutdown, there’s hardly any resonance to them.

Despite the personages’ tragic background- both all alone at an advanced age after recently losing their lifelong partners -the pathos never really materialises. None of those factors is explored in a deep or touching manner, as they are not given enough space for us to care. And inevitably, the viewer’s detachment can just grow larger.

The dialogue is clunky, and for the most part, it lacks flow. Many lines are pointless, and some entire sections add virtually nothing to the story. Ultimately, they aren’t much more than idle prattle showing zero dramatic purpose. And their engagement ranks even lower.

The staging is probably the only salvageable part of the show, although some aspects of it are nonetheless problematic. Its naturalistic approach teems with intricacy, conveying a complex, detailed picture comprising different settings all at once. Yet, its exceedingly figurative style compromises its adaptability. The transitions between scenes are somewhat clumsy. And during the few excerpts where the recount takes place somewhere different, its unresourcefulness becomes apparent.

Neither of the performers offers a satisfactory rendition. We can appreciate the personal chemistry between Shobu Kapoor and Rehan Sheikh, but when it comes to their roles, there’s simply none. Their portrayals are flat and unlayered, and that organic bond their characters should exude is simply not there, making their experience even less appealing and proximate than it already was in the script.

No rom-com is expected to impress, but it should at least speak to its audience on some level. Sweetmeats isn’t just miles away from a palatable treat, but it stands as a frozen, undercooked narrative whose first three minutes make the whole plot. Despite its efforts to achieve a candied outcome, the result is sadly more prone to candid criticism. There’s barely anything in it to applaud other than bringing older people to the centre of a love story. And that’s a single clap.

Sweetmeats plays at London’s Bush Theatre until 21 March. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara