‘The Blue Room’, 20th and 21st November 2009 

A play at once intimate and disconcerting, both funny and ugly in its honesty and lack thereof, ‘The Blue Room’ traces a string of lovers on their sexual escapades in London. That there are only two actors playing the ten characters emphasises the meaninglessness of so many of the episodes and the complex way in which everyone interlinks. This also poses many challenges for director and actors alike in terms of creating distinctions between scenes without too much distraction and chaos, and in fully developing all the characters.

…suggesting an atmosphere of a pulsing and teeming city…

In spite of this, cast and crew pulled it off with sophistication. The scene changes were, though sometimes long, unobtrusive, and gave pause for thought on the story of the two characters who had most recently left us and each other. The music during these intervals was likewise successful, subtly suggesting an atmosphere of a pulsing and teeming city, such as London is. There were one or two occasions (after the scene with the politician, and his wife, for example) when the song jarred slightly with what had gone before – although it did lead well into the following scene with the same politician and a seventeen year old model.

 This was all crucial in suggesting personalities and lifestyles, especially with so little time to get to know Hare’s characters. The changing of the bed clothes for each scene, from the student’s old, dirty duvet to a politician’s silky throw and then to the playwright’s understated white sheets, was hugely revealing and worked well. The same should be said of the different styles of lighting for each encounter. However, at times the decision to have no light at all was frustrating and distracted from the action, however realistic it may have been. The way that all the bulbs were knotted together overhead created a web which, itself flooded in electric blue light before the play began, wonderfully reflected the connections between the Londoners about to walk the stage.  

theatre is not meant to allow you to settle down too comfortably 

Waves of feeling rippled through the many relationships, with an emotional climax in the scene with the politician and his wife (ruthlessly undermined in the sordid scene which ensued). This was poignantly out of sync with the sexual crescendos and their several peaks as the characters gradually took off more and more clothes as the play progressed. On top of this there was the heightened tension between audience and characters as a result of being so close together, with the audience seated on the stage. I think this was a good decision; theatre is not meant to allow you to settle down too comfortably, and being made to feel an intrusive fly on the wall and then a close and trusted friend let in on a secret could not have been achieved so effectively had the auditorium been used. The only drawback of this was that, depending on which side you were sat on, it wasn’t always possible to see both actors’ expressions.

 This put more pressure on them, but by and large was not an obstruction. The distinctions between and development of Rebecca Collingwood’s characters were well executed; decisive whilst still seeming natural. She was certain even in the uncertainty of characters such as Marie, the au pair, and effectively portrayed the married woman’s wavering between fear and desire in her encounter with Anton the student.

 Her portrayal of the actress was a little too stereotypical, from her plummy voice to her incessant mind games. While it evoked the idea of her acting in all aspects of her life (she behaved distinctly differently with the aristocrat and the playwright – appropriate given the aristocrat’s philosophising on how we all become different people depending on the company), I felt it didn’t work in tandem with her other, more sensitively depicted characters.

…characters who gave a little more faith in the good-naturedness of the human race…

 Ben Starr, playing the male roles, likewise changed fluidly from character to  character, moving from a down and out London cabbie to spoilt student to a slightly bumbling aristocrat. There are a few directorial quibbles with some of his characters, though.  As the student, Anton, the way in which he screamed at the au pair to do her job after sex seemed a little over the top and somewhat improbable. His playwright (though undeniably funny) was, like Collingwood’s actress, in the stereotypical vein; though this is more a personal preference for something else rather than an indisputable fault in what was otherwise an accomplished interpretation of the play on Oscar Blustin’s part.

 Aside from this, Starr’s characters were joyfully real. As Anton in the highly entertaining scene with the married woman, his nervousness came across well in his over-preparedness, as did his youthful pride in his conquest demonstrated with a brilliant post-coital jump for joy. Though he seemed unsure as the politician at first and hence initially played him with a hint of naivety on Starr’s part, he developed this into a true politician, who takes his work attitude home with him – sincerely professing high morality to his wife, only to turn around and sleep with a young girl.

 His aristocrat was played perceptively, and was touchingly and suitably gentlemanly in both scenes. Together with Collingwood’s girl, Irene, whom she played with an honest candidness, this was my favourite performance of the night. Their encounter being the last scene, it seemed a fitting conclusion as the climax of the actors’ and director’s talent, with characters who gave a little more faith in the good-naturedness of the human race in comparison with the all to real deceptive abilities of some of the other characters. 

Rosie Boscawen