Theatre review: The Score

Actor Brian Cox has described J.S. Bach as a "forgotten composer," although given it's only a few years since SSRB played him at the Bridge and now it's Cox's turn in the West End I'd argue London theatre at least remembers him. In Oliver Cotton's The Score, the 62-year-old Bach is respected but largely sidelined in a comparatively lowly position of his own choosing: A very religious man, he composes choral work for all the churches in his adopted home of Leipzig, grumbling his way through the demands for a new piece every week. In recent years the city has suffered the effects of war, as Frederick II's expansionist policies have left behind an army demanding to be housed. Their drills and manoeuvres disrupt everyone at all hours, before we even get to the drunken, violent and dangerous night-time behaviour of the traumatised soldiers.

But despite his vocal disapproval of the king of Prussia Bach accepts an invitation to visit Frederick (Stephen Hagan,) in part because it also means he can see his son Carl (Jamie Wilkes,) a court composer, and his young family.

Cotton's play centres on the confrontation between the ageing, religious Bach and the flamboyant, atheist soldier Frederick, the latter of whom has devised a musical challenge he thinks will defeat and possibly humiliate the older musician. In fact Bach has little trouble rising to the challenge but, annoyed at the realisation he's been invited to court largely to be played tricks on, lets rip at the king for the damage done by his armies both in war and its aftermath, as well as for his apparent disinterest in the human collateral damage - particularly the gang-rape of a blind neighbour of the composer's.

This, and a subsequent meeting between Bach and Frederick, are the heart of the story and its most interesting moments as personalities and philosophies clash. Although Cox's bombastic Bach, who entertainingly mixes curmudgeonliness with enthusiasm, is the easy character to side with over the prolific warmonger, this is also a play about PTSD, which he has no real understanding of. Cotton skirts over Frederick the Great's sexuality but does delve into the abuse he received from his father (largely for his effeminacy) even before his own experiences in battle, and there's a sense that his detached attitude to the devastation he caused, and the crimes his soldiers are committing, are two sides of the same cycle of abuse perpetuating itself.

Hagan's Frederick is charming and playful, but by the time we meet him it's been well-established this is a surveillance state where badmouthing him could have fatal consequences, so there's always a tension over when he might explode, and that his sometimes childlike behaviour is part of a coping mechanism. The fact that he never quite takes out his anger on Bach or his family may come down to the second, quieter but still interesting meeting between the two, and the fact that, while he isn't interested in Bach's religious interpretation of the world, the analytical way the composer treats music might have a solution to some of the darkness within the king.

Outside of these two big scenes though the play is very mixed. There's a nice chemistry between Cox and Wilkes, whose Carl might face some of the consequences of his father's indiscretion, while Juliet Garricks' maid Emilia offers insight on the human stories behind the historical figures. But having introduced Peter De Jersey's Voltaire as part of Frederick's court Cotton then doesn't seem sure what to do with him outside of occasonal comic relief.

Most of all the story drags its feet in getting to the crucial confrontation: The entire first act is full of character points and context that's interesting enough but is far from coalescing into a theme; by the second act the way the play drags out getting to the musical test we've heard so much about  becomes downright frustrating. Trevor Nunn's production doesn't do much to pick up the urgency, although Robert Jones' design does make use of a revolve to briskly get the scene changes done on a solid-looking set, avoiding slowing proceedings down any further. The scope of the tensions explored in the clash of two big personalities makes The Score interesting, but setting the scene for all these avenues of exploration can be a bit too meandering a journey.

The Score by Oliver Cotton is booking until the 26th of April at the Theatre Royal Haymarket.

Running time: 2 hours 35 minutes including interval.

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan.