The Doubtful Guest

If there was a time, before Mamet and Pinter, Berkoff and Brecht, before Ibsen even, when theatre was simple, then this production of The Doubtful Guest lays waste to any suggestion that things were better back then. Yet the play also demolishes any claim to intellectual superiority made by post-modernism. In fact, by the end of the show, with lights dropping from the rafters and the set lying in ruins, it becomes clear that the very concept of theatre as an institution has been ransacked by this whirlwind of satire. It’s glorious stuff.

The actors betray their talent before even uttering a word of the spartan script; skulking and flitting around the stage like badly handled marionettes, their movements convey the feeling of being unnaturally manipulated. Yet while its deconstructionist ambitions infect every aspect of the performance, it isn’t at the expense of comedy – quite the contrary. This is the only show at this year’s festival in which the line, “this is a chair” will leave you in stitches.

With quick turnarounds between shows in tiny, ill-suited venues, theatre on the Fringe often falls victim to an excessive, enforced minimalism in production; it’s therefore highly gratifying to see a cleverly designed set, excellent use of makeup and brilliant lighting effects accompany a polished performance from the cast.
At roughly an hour and a half, The Doubtful Guest can seem at times a tad slow moving, which is unfair to its energetic cast. No jaunt through theatrical theory has ever been this much fun.