Theatre review: A Very Very Very Dark Matter

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way. Parklife!

Martin McDonagh's Lieutenant of Inishmore was revived this summer, a reminder of his early work's wilfully controversial nature, love of blood and gore, and tendency to go to some pretty surreal places. Seventeen years on from that play's debut and with McDonagh now a big name in film as well as theatre, all of those remain present and correct, except the weirdness has been dialled up to new levels. Kicking off the Bridge Theatre's second year and playing from now until early January, there's a feel of the dark Christmas story to A Very Very Very Dark Matter, especially since it includes an appearance by the man most credited with creating the modern image of Christmas; it should go without saying that it's not one for the kids though, and even if you go in with the playwright's reputation preceding him the places he goes are likely to be very unexpected.

Theatre review: Who Cares

Continuing the theme since Vicky Featherstone took over the Royal Court of having shows explode out of the usual boundaries of its auditoria, Michael Wynne's verbatim play Who Cares technically takes place in the Upstairs Theatre. But before it gets there Debbie Hannan, Lucy Morrison and Hamish Pirie's promenade production takes the audience from the rehearsal rooms and offices behind Sloane Square station, to the staircases and corridors backstage, and the area that's usually the lighting booth of the Upstairs Theatre. This is all in service of us hearing the stories of, for the most part, workers in the National Health Service, building up a picture both of the emotional connection that this country has to the NHS, and exactly how it's being changed by successive governments - particularly the "stealth privatisation" brought in by the current coalition.

Theatre review: Holes

Some productions seem to appear with perfect timing while others have the worst; it's certainly the latter when a black comedy about a plane crash coincides with news of a real one. So there's a certain amount of blocking out unfortunate associations to be done here, but Holes deserves it. Tom Basden's writing has gone from the witty, silly Party, which also became a Radio 4 sitcom, to darker absurdism including adapting Kafka for the stage. Both styles are apparent in his latest play which had an Edinburgh run last year and now comes, slightly rewritten, to the Arcola's infrequently-used third space, the Tent. I'd not seen anything here before, and it turns out to be a fun space, in the round and feeling a bit like a small circus tent, although the constant noise of traffic, Overground trains and even a gospel choir may explain why it usually houses comedy or music rather than straight plays.

Theatre review: The Low Road

Bruce Norris provided Dominic Cooke with his first show as artistic director of the Royal Court, as well as the play that perhaps best summed up his tenure for me, Clybourne Park. So it's to Norris that Cooke turns again for his farewell production, and an epic, comic and sometimes downright bizarre parable in The Low Road. With the American War of Independence looming, a baby is left on the doorstep of a brothel, with a note promising whoever raises him will be rewarded when he turns 17. There will be money coming Jim Trumpett's way by the end of his teens, but it'll be of his own making, as the budding capitalist "reorganises" the brothel's finances, cheerfully ripping off the prostitutes who helped raise him in the process. Setting off on a ruthless moneymaking odyssey, Jim's first financial transaction is to buy a slave, and his subsequent business dealings don't get any nicer.

Theatre review: Absent Friends

Alan Ayckbourn's latest play is due to arrive in That London soon but first there's another revival from his huge back catalogue. We're back in the '70s for Absent Friends, one of his bleak comedies of awkwardness and middle-class disappointment. Designer Tom Scutt doesn't get to do one of his more expressionistic sets this time but he's just as adept at bringing the decade taste forgot back to life in all its orange, brown and queasy green glory. The well-off middle-class living room is dominated by a garish wall clock as well as lots of other nice touches - the crocodile seemed particularly true to the time period to me. This is the home of Di (Katherine Parkinson) and Paul (Steffan Rhodri,) on a Saturday afternoon when they're about to have a tea party. Di's holding it to cheer up Colin (Reece Shearsmith,) a friend they haven't seen for a while, whose fiancée recently drowned. But Paul has been having an affair with the monosyllabic Evelyn (Kara Tointon,) wife of jittery John (David Armand.) And with Marge (Elizabeth Berrington) fretting over her accident-prone husband who keeps phoning her from his sick-bed, Colin might be the one in least need of cheering up.

The comedy isn't uproarious but it's sharp and the cast work well together to show us this disparate group of clearly-defined characters who've ended up in each others' lives largely by default (though why the stone-cold Evelyn ever ended up married to loser John is a mystery.) Among the strong ensemble Parkinson is good as the smiling hostess permanently on the verge of hysteria, Armand often quietly steals the scene as his character, with his phobia of talking about death (an unfortunate condition given why they're there,) starts to get the shakes, while Berrington's Marge constantly putting her foot in it is also funny. Having been outside of the group for a while Colin's proclamations about his friends' personalities are comically wide of the mark while containing the odd accidental grain of truth. The rather bleak conclusion has to be that Colin's the happiest in his relationship, as his fiancée died before things could sour between them and he remembers her as perfect. Ayckbourn's wry observations remain apt and as that clocks ticks off the minutes in real time Jeremy Herrin's production captures the uncomfortable comedy.

Absent Friends by Alan Ayckbourn is booking until the 14th of April at the Harold Pinter Theatre.

Running time: 2 hours 5 minutes including interval.