Trumpets and Raspberries @ The Lyceum, 18 April

Wacky farce meets political intrigue: it must be Dario Fo.

Article by Susannah Radford | 20 May 2008

Written in response to the 1978 kidnapping of the Italian politician Aldo Moro by the Red Brigade, playwright Dario Fo asks how would the government act toward terrorist demands if an industrial leader rather than a politician’s life were at stake. In his farcical comedy Trumpets and Raspberries, a kidnapped industrial magnate is rescued by one of his workers. Unrecognisable from the car accident,  due to a mix up he is surgically reconstructed with his rescuer’s face and subsequently interrogated over his own kidnapping.

Farcical elements are brought to the fore in this satire on class, economic power and terrorism. Stock characters, mistaken identity and slapstick all highlight the ridiculousness of plastic surgery, police interrogations and the torture of recovery that is sometimes jarring and uncomfortable to watch. But while it has the elements of farce, Trumpets and Raspberries doesn’t quite work as one. The first and last acts are largely expository and slow the play down. The comings and goings of the second act work better as Rosa struggles with a husband who appears to have a split personality and weird eating habits. Although it’s delicious for the audience to see an actor playing two roles in quick succession (and obviously central to the theme of mistaken identity), it doesn’t allow the momentum to build; overall, there’s not enough action onstage to match the energy inherent in a farce.

Great performances from Jimmy Chisholm in the double role of factory worker Tony Brodie and magnate Sir John Lamb and Kathryn Howden as wife Rosa Brodie really make this production. Their larger than life characters are simultaneously recognisable, entertaining and likeable.

Updated for today’s audience and set in a Cameron led Britain, there’s enough topical commentary to make Trumpets and Raspberries amusing, however, the ‘moral’ of the story and the answer to Fo’s question, that Money is King, loses its impact because the play doesn’t reach the dizzying heights it ought to.

The Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, 18 April – 10 May

http:// www.lyceum.org.uk