Bedroom Farce

Miss Julie

Behind Closed Doors is the name of a season yanking together Alan Ayckbourn’s suburban 1975 comedy with Strindberg’s ferocious 19th-century tragedy. Ayckbourn’s ingenious conceit is that the action takes place within three separate bedrooms. The beds belong to three married couples, whose equilibrium is wrecked by a fourth pair, the emotionally incontinent, self-obsessed Trevor and Susannah. Apart from some weak slapstick, the comedy is largely derived from the trials of marriage. Dwindling expectations are touchingly exemplified in Peter Hall’s production by Jane Asher’s prim Delia and Nicholas Le Prevost’s laconic Ernest, whose greatest thrill is to share a tin of pilchards in bed. It’s not easy playing comedy in this theatre, with its cavernous gap between actors and audience, but Le Prevost’s eyebrows are the star of the show.

After Bedroom Farce, Miss Julie feels like a rush to the head. Where Ayckbourn sees boredom, bickering and putdowns, Strindberg portrays lust, hate and humiliation. Stephen Unwin’s brooding production is set against tall, thin trees shimmering in the midsummer’s night. In the kitchen, Kristin draws water from the pump and cooks kidneys on the stove. It’s here that Miss Julie and Jean, her father’s valet, dangerously try to ignore the barriers of class. Unusually, their coupling can be seen by the audience, which undermines the realism elsewhere. Rachel Pickup, who plays the deranged Susannah in Bedroom Farce, is equally off the wall here, without ever exposing the full depths of Miss Julie’s degradation. Daniel Betts as Jean takes time to reveal his resentment, but when he does, he really lets rip.

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