Abigail’s Party West End Reviews

Tamzin Outhwaite relishes every second as Beverly, dominating the stage as much as the character itself. Her physical movements tell as much as her spiky comments, as she drapes herself over the sofa and casts lascivious glances at Tony. Every gestur...

Tamzin Outhwaite relishes every second as Beverly, dominating the stage as much as the character itself. Her physical movements tell as much as her spiky comments, as she drapes herself over the sofa and casts lascivious glances at Tony. Every gesture is considered, from the louche way she holds her cigarettes, to the angle she holds her head when addressing her guests with an agonisingly sing-song voice – James Cousins's movement direction is superb. Outhwaite oozes with passive agression and overt flirtation; it's a full-throated and brilliantly realised performance.

Nadia Fall’s revival of Mike Leigh’s 1977 breakthrough work was first performed at Theatre Royal Stratford East (Fall’s first artistic directorship before she took over at the Young Vic) in 2024 and now comes to the West End following a tour fo...

Nadia Fall’s revival of Mike Leigh’s 1977 breakthrough work was first performed at Theatre Royal Stratford East (Fall’s first artistic directorship before she took over at the Young Vic) in 2024 and now comes to the West End following a tour for a short late-summer run. The way in which it originally captured a zeitgeist and was developed through improvisation, blending elements of a middlebrow sitcom with Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, was groundbreaking in its time and has influenced any amount of cringe comedy over the past half-century (the recent Amandaland is a prime example). But how well it stands on is less certain – while much of the audience was in stitches, my response to the humour was more muted.

Watching her, though, is anything but boring. On a pitch-perfect 1970s set by Peter McKintosh – vomitous wallpaper, dark brown veneer cabinets – we get our first glimpse of her, with fabulous blonde blow-out and sexy orange evening dress, dancing...

Watching her, though, is anything but boring. On a pitch-perfect 1970s set by Peter McKintosh – vomitous wallpaper, dark brown veneer cabinets – we get our first glimpse of her, with fabulous blonde blow-out and sexy orange evening dress, dancing wildly on her coffee table to Donna Summer (superb movement direction is by James Cousins). It’s a fantasy moment – a similar, more grotesque sequence involving her hapless guests opens the second act – and it thrillingly sets up the tension between Beverly’s image of herself and the tedious, beige reality of her mundane existence, married to Kevin Bishop’s weary estate agent Laurence.

Now, though, Walthamstow and stiff gins are fashionable again, and Peter McKintosh’s set and costume design looks cool rather than naff. The orange block-print curtains, room dividers and the kitschy painting over which Beverley and Laurence fall o...

Now, though, Walthamstow and stiff gins are fashionable again, and Peter McKintosh’s set and costume design looks cool rather than naff. The orange block-print curtains, room dividers and the kitschy painting over which Beverley and Laurence fall out (Stephen Pearson’s Wings of Love - a naked fantasy couple framed by a giant swan’s wings) are covetably retro. Even Demis Roussos, cheese and pineapple hedgehogs and Beverley’s green eye shadow have come through the irony timewarp.

Although it's become synonymous with a certain kind of outmoded suburban naffness, Leigh's play isn't purely a satire of middle-class aspiration. It's more of a study of how one bullying personality can gradually distort and poison everything around ...

Although it's become synonymous with a certain kind of outmoded suburban naffness, Leigh's play isn't purely a satire of middle-class aspiration. It's more of a study of how one bullying personality can gradually distort and poison everything around them by painting their aesthetic and moral choices as the only possible correct ones, and by slowly obliterating anyone who refuses to enter their orbit. Falls' production, though, favours a consistent tone of brash silliness over psychological intensity. The exaggerated performances and lurid setting feel toxic, right from the start. This is a haunted house version of the Seventies, full of neon horrors, but with nothing to leave a lasting chill in your bones.

Fall’s production, first seen at Stratford East in 2024, is so deftly crafted that the best of the dialogue sounds freshly minted. Tamzin Outhwaite’s bored, vampish wife steps out of the shadow of Alison Steadman, who gave us an unforgettable Bev...

Fall’s production, first seen at Stratford East in 2024, is so deftly crafted that the best of the dialogue sounds freshly minted. Tamzin Outhwaite’s bored, vampish wife steps out of the shadow of Alison Steadman, who gave us an unforgettable Bev half a century ago. When we first see Outhwaite she is dancing away on her own, working on her Travolta moves under a glitterball. Here is a manipulative woman intent on turning her lounge into her own private catwalk. Her guests and her poor husband, Laurence (Kevin Bishop strikes just the right aggrieved tone), become her props; she moves them around with expressions of fake bonhomie, topping up their glasses all the while.

Her performance, and Fall’s production as a whole, proves that this period comedy of manners is eternally resonant. That is partly down to the genius of the play but Fall adds an ingenious tweak in the suggestion that Tony and Ange are of “Pakist...

Her performance, and Fall’s production as a whole, proves that this period comedy of manners is eternally resonant. That is partly down to the genius of the play but Fall adds an ingenious tweak in the suggestion that Tony and Ange are of “Pakistani” origin. This transforms its meanings in a subtle but deft way: the area, we hear, is being taken over by different kinds of people and you imagine this not only being a comment on working-class mobility but racial diversity here in the “white flight” heartland of Essex. Outside Bev’s doorstep, it could be Reform Britain.