Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

Dazzling: Stoppard’s The Real Thing, at the Old Vic, reviewed

Plus: a perverse homily at Park90

James McArdle as Henry and Karise Yansen as his angry teenage daughter Debbie in The Real Thing. Photo: Manuel Harlan 
issue 07 September 2024

The Real Thing at the Old Vic is a puzzling beast. And well worth seeing. Director Max Webster sets the action in a vast sitting room painted electric blue with a white sofa in the centre. A lovely use of empty space. But the preview trailer on the theatre’s website shows the actors seated in a scruffy bomb site where they discuss similarities between Tom Stoppard’s 1982 play and the lyrics of Taylor Swift. Perhaps the Old Vic hopes to attract a younger audience, but this show will appeal most to Stoppard’s lifelong fans.

The play marks a major shift in his development. The exuberant and frothy cleverness of his earlier work has acquired emotional weight and a tougher outer shell. There’s a lot of jealousy and anger smouldering beneath the surface. The opening scene is a marvel of delayed comedy. A husband greets his wife after her return from a business trip to Switzerland.

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