My Night With Reg

So – it did come to pass that I turned up at the Donmar to see My Night With Reg on its opening Saturday; front row seats, no less. My mate clearly has the ticket-buying knack, as well as (it turns out) good taste. Although when he got us tickets to see Urinetown, he at least wished he hadn’t bothered – but that’s a whole other story.

My first time at the Donmar Warehouse, I was seriously surprised how small it is. Is this really the place that Hollywood stars flock to to tread the London boards? 251 seats and not-for-profit. But I can see how it stays achingly cool.

No sooner had I ordered a bottle of fizz for the four of us for pre-theatre drinks (no intermission in this three-act play) than I ran into the long-lost ex from the last millennium, and his husband. Heartbreak (mine) long since healed, this civilised encounter nonetheless added a piquancy to the play itself – a tale of love and lust amongst a small circle of friends. Plus after meeting my ex and his other half, my own mates’ consensus was that ‘he certainly traded down after leaving you’. Which is not true at all, but was waspishly, lovingly supportive, and could have been a line from the performance itself.

So – the play.

Once I was past the temptation to stretch out my legs onto the stage itself, the single-set is simplicity itself. [There – that’s the compulsory alliteration included – like that bizarre, oft-tedious floor move that he gymnasts have to include in their floor routines before they get back to the proper tumbling.]

A suburban flat front room, with conservatory off. The 70s look wasn’t over-stressed, to go with the original writing, but it was stylishly retro nonetheless. Adding a fondue set to the table or a soda stream to the bar would have nailed it time-wise, but maybe they’re quietly avoiding that particular prop in solidarity with the Trycycle Theatre.

*ahem*

The writing has aged well. Very well, in fact. Effortlessly acid, flirty, longing, – all in the right places. Without giving too much plot away (I hate that – my place on the spectrum elevates plot to a high plane), the outdated central premise – that becoming HIV Positive leads inexorably and inevitably to full AIDS and thus a speedy, painful death – doesn’t detract at all, even without considering this explicitly a period piece. The characters were real, the emotion raw, and I swear you could taste the hormones from the front row. [Three front-row mentions, should I stop now?].

The double full nudity wasn’t at all gratuitous, but let’s face it, a glimpse round showed that around 220 of the 251 full seats were occupied by male couples and groups, so it added a certain something to the evening’s enjoyment.

Julian Ovenden was great as John. Apparently he’s been in Downton Abbey. He’s a good prospect for a future Bond I’d say – you read it here first. He could also leave his wife and audition for the role of my husband if he likes. #justsayin

Lewis Reeves is one to watch too. I’d forgive him his comedy-Brum accent here, as the role called for it.

Matt Bardock was also rakishly charming in his supporting role.

So – get yourself a ticket and fill your boots.