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22 October, 2008
 
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TMAW

Art - Wyndham's Theatre


Art that's good whichever way you look at it

Charles Spencer on the excellent Art at Wyndham's

WHAT a terrific play Art is. When it opened back in October 1996 I gave it a rave, but entered the caveat that there "might actually be less here than meets the delighted eye and ear".

I couldn't have been more wrong. I've just been for the third time and the play seems as fresh, as funny, as touching and as thought-provoking as it did the first time round.

Though it offers cracking entertainment, there is something poetic, even mysterious about Yasmina Reza's superbly elegant play, translated with vituperative wit by Christopher Hampton. Like the white painting that is the catalyst of the piece, the drama seems to change subtly, depending both on your own mood and on the particular actors playing the three friends.

On both previous occasions I've ended up sympathising with Serge, the nervy dermatologist who forks out 200,000 francs for the picture only to have it denounced as "white s**t" by his best friend Marc.

This time my sympathies moved the other way. In a compellingly subtle performance, Mick Ford makes Serge seem horribly creepy and smug. There's something repellent about the way he caresses his friend as Marc first views the painting, something insinuatingly sly about his manner throughout. This is a man who needles people with sadistic precision while sanctimoniously claiming the moral high ground.

In contrast, that lovely and undervalued actor Roger Allam plays the scornful Marc with a wonderful mixture of warmth, hurt and fury. He can be cruel, certainly, and he is never more dangerous than when he is silkily calm, but his is the cruelty of a man who feels betrayed in friendship.

He also delivers the great lines pouring scorn on the more absurd manifestations of modern art with panache, like a younger, sober Kingsley Amis. I felt like cheering. Robust artistic conservatism has rarely found a more eloquent spokesman.

The joker in the pack is Jack Dee, a marvellous stand-up comic who is making his dramatic debut as Yvan, the hapless third friend who tries to broker peace between his two friends, only to find himself caught in the crossfire. Though he can't eclipse memories of Ken Stott, who created the role (but then, who could?), Dee is excellent.

He delivers the great set piece about wedding invitations with a hilarious sense of grievance (I particularly liked the way he mimes a vicious kick at the mere mention of his stepmother), and he is touchingly vulnerable - not a word you associate with this usually smart, snide performer - as he watches his friendships collapse around him. As you would expect, his comic timing is immaculate, but there is also a fine unforced sincerity here. A legitimate stage career surely beckons should Dee want it.

Matthew Warchus's production remains exemplary - cool and chic on the surface (you won't find more stylish stage or lighting design anywhere), yet powered by surprisingly raw emotion. Art is an outstandingly witty play, to be sure, but in its analysis of the dynamics of friendship, it is also a work of satisfying subtlety and depth.
 
The play they all want to be in 

Leading actors fall over themselves to be in Art, says Kate Bassett.
Now a stand-up comedian is joining them. Why?

THREE Frenchmen sit around arguing over the merits of a blank white canvas. It hardly sounds like a West End crowd-puller. Yet Art, by the Paris-based, half-Iranian, half-Hungarian playwright Yasmina Reza, has proved a long-running commercial hit at Wyndham's Theatre. Translated by Christopher Hampton, stylishly staged by Matthew Warchus and co-produced by Sean Connery, this show, which opened in London in 1996, has been nominated for a record five Olivier Awards and took the trophy for Best Comedy.

One of the reasons Art is still going strong is its extraordinarily strong casting. Warchus's production has attracted remarkably high-calibre actors each time the line-up has changed. Since the first, crowd-pulling line-up of Tom Courtenay, Albert Finney and Ken Stott, we've had Henry Goodman, David Haig, Anton Lesser, Nigel Havers and the RSC's Roger Allam, among others.

Next week the fifth cast comes into play and it features two interesting twists: one celebrity stand-up, Jack Dee, making his theatrical debut; and one actor coming back for more - Allam taking on a different role from last time round.

Dee started out as a waiter, swapped to the stand-up circuit and became a household name in 1992 when he landed his own Channel 4 show. Sharp-suited and with a bulldog glower, he has appeared in award-winning advertisements for John Smith's bitter, and last year had a go at small-screen comedy-drama in Granada's The Grimleys.

In stand-up, Dee's persona is abrasive and deadpan. But in Art he will be playing the harassed Yvan, who finds himself attacked from both sides when he steps between his older friends, Marc and Serge, in a quarrel over the latter's purchase of a modernist painting.

Yvan is not an easy first role. The character feels a distress that is increasingly severe, and has to inspire pathos. Dee claims that he feels an affinity between his off-stage self and Yvan. "I'm a disaster," he says. "Like him, I see everyone's point of view and I'll agree with people just because I hate conflict - unlike my stand-up persona, who is more assertive."

The part of Yvan is also, of course, a corker for any comedian, notably featuring an extended rant about wedding arrangements. Taking the part, though a challenge, struck Dee as a great opportunity to learn about acting. "I'm being offered more and more acting roles in telly and wishing I had more experience to tackle them. I felt that if I did Art, going through this process would stand me in good stead." 

Allam, who played Serge in an earlier run of the play, will now be portraying Marc. "On the first day of rehearsals," says Allam, "I thought I'd made the most appalling mistake. It was so strange, standing looking at Mick Ford, who was saying my lines."

However, Allam's role-swapping makes sense if you perceive the characters as facets of one personality. Warchus tells me that Reza originally saw the trio as different aspects of herself, and his ultimate aim is to assemble a cast who'll play the roles in rotation (a concept he also explored in his staging of Sam Shepard's True West in 1994).

Though Allam suspects that flicking between all three parts would be extremely demanding, the play certainly makes actors want to try a second role. Lesser, Haig and others have shown interest, says Warchus. Dee is already open to the possibility: "Were someone to ask if I fancied a crack at one of the other parts, I'd be very tempted." Meanwhile other major players are queuing up. Warchus is rushing from rehearsals to discuss the play with Richard Griffiths over lunch.

Pragmatically speaking, this West End production has enticed top actors by having three-month runs rather than the usual six months, which can interfere with screen careers. In addition, all three parts are gems for virtuoso performers and yet offer a chance for leading actors to work together closely on an equal footing - "like a chamber orchestra," Allam says, "rather than like a soloist with orchestral support".

Obviously, though, the appeal of Reza's play goes deeper than that. Dee has become intellectually fascinated. "I could talk about it all day," he says. The more you view Art, the more depths you discern. Warchus deliberately casts the play to bring out complex, three-dimensional characters, which is why, he says, Dee should make an interesting Yvan.

"What would be totally wrong casting would be a professional loser like Woody Allen. What makes Yvan tragic is if he is good-looking, fun, self-assured and his life is going to hell."

In terms of its subtle depths, Reza's play is comparable to Serge's white painting, which he insists is not flatly monochromatic, but is layered with distinguishable shades. Art combines laughter, intellectual discussion and intense feelings; literal meaning and symbolic meaning. At times Marc and Serge sound like a married couple; alternatively, Warchus says, "you could see Marc and Serge as two countries and Yvan as the United Nations."

The play's appeal is certainly wide. It has been staged everywhere from Sweden to South Africa. Now Warchus is setting off to rehearse an American cast (Alfred Molina, Alan Alda and Victor Garber), to open on Broadway in March.

Warchus expresses slight anxiety about cultural differences, but thinks the original French dialogue has a slangy rawness that is very New York - and Reza, indeed, has family connections there. "Perhaps, actually, it will be a homecoming for the play," he says.

And after that? Warchus will be back in London directing a second play by Reza, called The Unexpected Man, which will open at the Barbican Pit in April. Warchus says this one is far less commercial, more like an installation, with two performers delivering 10 monologues.

Who will the actors be? Warchus says he's going for Helen Mirren and Michael Gambon. Sounds like another crowd-puller to me.

 
  ©Linda Green 2006