A wonderful production of what can hardly be called a classic theatrical text.
Traditionally, the piece is seen as a study of two Oxford undergraduates who, in committing a murder to show their freedom from moral restraints, hold the mirror up to Nietzsche. But the director seems less interested in the killers than in their charismatic guest, Rupert Cadell, at a party staged around a chest containing the victim's body.
"Rupert, a war-damaged Wildean poet filled with ennui, is the play's most original creation. Bertie Carvel suavely demonstrates that Rupert is a man who minces everything but his words, but also reminds us that the play is really about the character's moral awakening: Carvel offers a riveting portrait of an affected nihilist who discovers the hollowness of his credo, that the slaughter of 1914-18 has devalued individual murder."
Rupert more than justifies the revival - a combination of Truman Capote, Eric Cartman and Hercule Poirot. There's a beautiful passage delivered by Rupert as he teases the two murderers, delaying them while the police gather outside. Ruminating on the lateness of the evening - it is five and twenty to eleven - he delivers what I thought was a beautiful description of that haunting hour when theater shows are about to end, cabaret shows have yet to begin, taxis and busses throng the streets as punters rush home to go to bed (only to wake up to a day almost exactly the same as the day that preceded it), ruined women saunter down dark streets etc etc and "pleasure itself is found wanting."
Where's the sequel? Huh? Rupert-focused obvs.
"Bertie Carvel gives the finest performance of all, though, as a wickedly camp, coldly amusing aesthete, a survivor of the trenches with a tin leg and an apparently icy heart who finally supplies this cruel and brilliant play with what small measure of compassion it possesses."
Rupert's towering, don king-esque hair is also a lovely touch. A mincing, limping, amoral, judgemental, alcoholic, brilliant detective. Mmmm, sounds a lot like House actually. oops. Guess it's been done.
NOTE: These pictures of Rupert don't nearly do justice to just how strange and "queer" a presence his is (or was, or something...)
