The Shape of Things is a reviewer’s nightmare – the play’s subject, tone and audience’s view on the characters do a complete switcharoo in the final act. But this is not a play with little to offer. Far from it; this tale of love, art and reinvention is goosebump-raising stuff.
A geeky English student, Adam Sorenson, falls in love with installation artist, Evelyn Thomas, much to the disdain of all his friends. She’s pretty, but she also pours disdain on others views of culture, relationships and the world at large, with which she disagrees. Adam takes this in his stride – it’s his first major relationship. So even when she starts making ‘helpful’ suggestions about his appearance and personality (persuading him to get new clothes, a new haircut, start working out – amongst some of the more reversible things), his puppy love blinds him to all consequences.
And there will be some pretty drastic consequences in Neil LaBute’s scathing drama. It’s the power of the writing which is both the production’s strength and its Achilles' heel. Although not note perfect (LaBute has never been great with the very first or very last moments of a play, and some of the discussion about love and art is a bit undergrad), it’s pretty thrilling. Throughout, the fast, loaded, whipsmart dialogue and disarming shades of grey within some of the, sometimes rather broad, comedy, do tend to get the better of the performers.
LaBute’s knowing, twinkling intelligence isn’t always apparent – and it’s probably got something to do with the age of the performers. Whilst Sophie King as Evelyn is steely and confident, she rarely shows enough warmth for us to understand what Adam sees in her. It’s a pretty fundamental flaw. And while Joe Murphy as Adam is a charming naif, his occasionally awkward stage presence doesn’t convince us he has even the two friends the play claims he clings on to.
That said, this is a full-bodied and head-swimmingly provocative piece of theatre. Even if the production does not achieve pitch perfect performances, and does make some rather strange and inconsistent amendments to the text (to make its inherent American nature sound more British, one presumes), this is a thrilling production. And that ending is a killer.
A geeky English student, Adam Sorenson, falls in love with installation artist, Evelyn Thomas, much to the disdain of all his friends. She’s pretty, but she also pours disdain on others views of culture, relationships and the world at large, with which she disagrees. Adam takes this in his stride – it’s his first major relationship. So even when she starts making ‘helpful’ suggestions about his appearance and personality (persuading him to get new clothes, a new haircut, start working out – amongst some of the more reversible things), his puppy love blinds him to all consequences.
And there will be some pretty drastic consequences in Neil LaBute’s scathing drama. It’s the power of the writing which is both the production’s strength and its Achilles' heel. Although not note perfect (LaBute has never been great with the very first or very last moments of a play, and some of the discussion about love and art is a bit undergrad), it’s pretty thrilling. Throughout, the fast, loaded, whipsmart dialogue and disarming shades of grey within some of the, sometimes rather broad, comedy, do tend to get the better of the performers.
LaBute’s knowing, twinkling intelligence isn’t always apparent – and it’s probably got something to do with the age of the performers. Whilst Sophie King as Evelyn is steely and confident, she rarely shows enough warmth for us to understand what Adam sees in her. It’s a pretty fundamental flaw. And while Joe Murphy as Adam is a charming naif, his occasionally awkward stage presence doesn’t convince us he has even the two friends the play claims he clings on to.
That said, this is a full-bodied and head-swimmingly provocative piece of theatre. Even if the production does not achieve pitch perfect performances, and does make some rather strange and inconsistent amendments to the text (to make its inherent American nature sound more British, one presumes), this is a thrilling production. And that ending is a killer.