Review – The Deep Blue Sea, National Theatre

Terrence Rattigan and egg-frying. That’s the double whammy it takes to get Andrew into a theatre these days. Of course we couldn’t have known about the on-stage cookery and (Spoiler Alert) it comes at the end of the play.

But was it real of faked? We weren’t entirely sure. The egg was definitely cracked. The gas appeared to be lit and butter (yes, butter – Andrew was thrilled) was put in the pan. The roar of the grease could be heard sizzling but there was no haze and from our row D stalls seats we could smell nothing. A brief post-show discussion with Circle-seated acquaintances convinced us otherwise. They claimed they got a whiff of Helen McCrory‘s egg.

Review – The Winslow Boy, Old Vic

“Is it the one about the postal order?” queried Andrew, who, like Phil, often confuses Terrence Rattigan’s postal order play The Winslow Boy with his celebration-of-gravy play The Browning Version.

Of course the Whingers both wistfully remember postal orders. So their pre-show briefing to their partially younger, partially foreign (or both) entourage included memories of opening birthday cards from aunties hoping that a postal order might flutter out.

Review – The Late Middle Classes, Donmar Warehouse

In the unlikely event that they ever get around to writing their play the Whingers will be sure to follow the classic advice to “write about what you know”. This will engender a refreshingly brief night at the theatre.

In The Late Middle Classes Simon Gray has written about what he knows. The late Mr Gray knew more than we ever will and hence has much more to say. And so it was heavy hearts all round when the Whingers found a slip in their Donmar programmes imparting the news that “The performance lasts approximately 2 hours and 45 minutes including an interval” in contradiction of the programme which admits to a mere “2 hours”. How did they get it so wrong?