The Pitmen Painters; Honeypot

At last, it’s reached the West End. Lee Hall’s hit play, The Pitmen Painters, tells the heartening tale of some talented Geordie colliers who won national acclaim as artists during the 1930s. Hall, who wrote Billy Elliot, has done extremely well from a pretty limited set of dramatic techniques. He draws each of his coal miners from a couple of opposed attributes: youthful but jobless; single-minded but foolish; erudite but insensitive; unhealthy but idealistic. His dialogue consists of gentle interrogations and nothing else. It’s like a cop show for kids. Every scene involves a misunderstanding — caused by ignorance, stubbornness or some cultural confusion — which has to be resolved by characters cross-examining each other. Once the conundrum has been explained, another one pops up. Very repetitive. The script is sprinkled with innocuous chumminess so the drama has lots of charm, of course, but absolutely no emotional weight.
When Hall looks for real passion all he can find is Marxist dogma and class prejudice.