BBC Radio 7, 20 December 2009
A family gathered together for the Christmas holiday, each member locked
within their self-obsessed world; harassed housewives; self-interested husbands; a psychopathic grandfather; a doctor unable
to make correct diagnoses; and an interloper treated suspiciously by everyone. We are back in Ayckbourn-land; that safe, comfortable
middle-class environment in which gender roles remain resolutely fixed and no one can envision any escape. Sometimes I get
the feeling that his characters are simply variations on the familiar stereotypeL Belinda (Maggie McCarthy) could easily fit
into The Norman Conquests, while her husband Neville (Nicky Henson) comes from Absent Friends. The only
truly original character is Harvey (Peter Vaughan) a sixtysomething retired security guard with a love for violent cowboy
films and a pathological suspicion of strangers. He delights in being sadistic to Bernard (Ronald Herdman) a pathetic excuse
for a man who spends all his time preparing puppet shows that no one wants to see. Harvey also has a pathological suspicion
of Clive (Guy Holden) a writer - and in Harvey's opinion probably a homosexual because he pursues an 'arty'
profession. The play builds to a melodramatic climax in which Harvey wounds Clive with a shotgun in the belief that the writer
is about to steal the family's Christmas presents. This is clearly not the case: Clive merely wants to leave the house early
to return back to London. After that most of the family members disperse, remaining blissfully unaware of the significance
of what has happened. In Ayckbourn's view they will reconvene every Christmas, do exactly the same things, and remain equally
ignorant.
Gordon House's production had some good performances, notably from Vaughan - a truly
sinister figure with a pitiless rasp to his voice - and from Henson, whose air of false bonhomie concealed a fundamentally
violent and self-interested nature. When he suspected Clive of having an affair with his wife Belinda. he threatened to tear
the unfortunate writer limb from limb. That aside. the experience of listening to Ayckbourn for me is rather like wearing
some old Hush Puppies - very reassuring, but neither original nor stylish.
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