Clive Owen makes his Broadway debut in Old Times, the unsettling drama of desire and blurred realities by Nobel Laureate Harold Pinter. Owen is Deeley, a man quite looking forward to meeting Anna, his wife Kate's friend from long ago. But as the night goes on, Anna's visit quickly shifts from an ordinary sharing of memories to a quiet battle for power. Douglas Hodge, a frequent performer and director of Pinter's works, directs the haunting and passionate revival.
he stars of 'Old Times' always look like they're a second away from having sex. Clive Owen, Eve Best and Kelly Reilly generate such heat, you may need a cold shower after the show...But then it's also rare that you'd need to cool off at a show by Harold Pinter, the British playwright famous for mind games and maddeningly vague plots...The game here is all about ultra-smoldering looks between Owen and Best -- and between Best and Reilly. An ominous score by Radiohead's Thom Yorke adds to the creepy-sexy vibe. This may be his Broadway debut, but Owen...radiates a confident masculinity. His Deeley is the kind of guy who can get away with manspreading, and he's perfectly matched with Best, a voluptuous panther, and Reilly, she of the frostier sensuality. Altogether, the three generate genuine sexual chemistry...You may not tell what it all means, if anything, yet the message comes through: Game on!
What's the opposite of deconstruction in the theater? I'm not sure. But that's what director Douglas Hodge does with 'Old Times' in this Roundabout production...In Hodge's 'Old Times,' the actors aren't playing the subtext necessarily. They share a feverish imagination that doesn't have much to do with the text, but nonetheless illuminates it in quirky ways...Hodge and company emphasize that defiance...Owen, in his Broadway debut, gives us a Deeley who's not only soused from the get-go but fey in an attractively disheveled sort of way...For theatergoers who are tired of sitting through all those Pinter pauses, Hodge pushes his actors to speak rapid fire, often on top of each other; and when they do take a breath, it's much more than a pause. It's often a long, silent interlude in which they lounge around, smoke cigarettes, or strut as if readying themselves for the next barrage of words.
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