Review: PARLOUR SONG, Greenwich Theatre

In the Jez Butterworth canon, it’s easy to overlook Parlour Song. First staged at the Almeida in 2009 and not revived in the UK since, this kitchen sink drama lacks the fiery polemicism of The Ferryman or the bold state-of-the-nation reflectiveness of Jerusalem. Greenwich Theatre Artistic Director James Haddrell’s production makes a solid, if not entirely compelling, argument for revisiting this early work.

Parlour Song is relatively limited in scope compared to Butterworth’s other work, but that’s part of the point – set in the claustrophobic bubble of a new build estate outside London, the play is less about suburban life being disrupted drastically than it is about the cracks that were already there, barely beneath the surface.

Neurotic demolitions expert Ned (Naveed Khan) and his neighbour and fitness coach Dale (Jeremy Edwards) are the uneasy bedfellows at the heart of the piece. This is also a story about decay and things falling apart – Ned is obsessed with watching videos of his past demolition projects, while his possessions start mysteriously disappearing, and he gradually becomes aware (along with the audience) of Dale sleeping with his wife Joy (Kellie Shirley).

One slightly feels as though the conversation on masculinity and male friendship has evolved beyond all this since 2009, and this production of Parlour Song fails to add much new to the conversation. This is redeemed, though, by sensitive performances by both Khan and Edwards, who deftly navigate the dance that most old friends do, between genuine care, eagerness for validation, mutual jadedness, and rage at not being able to measure up (just listen to Khan’s guttural scream after performing a pushup).

Edwards is also adept at balancing his character’s emotional investment in events with his sometimes odd passivity, sometimes more like a narrator than a character – the scene where Ned listens to an audiobook to practise performing oral sex is a high point of the show’s physical comedy, but Dale’s silent presence a few feet to the side adds a certain depth as well.

Conversely, more could have been done with the character of Ned’s wife, on the part of both actor and director. There is a subtle eroticism to Joy’s characterisation throughout the script, but much of Shirley’s performance falls into the realm of prototypical long-suffering housewife, somehow lacking the psychological depth of the male characters. Joy’s flirtation and unspoken desire have to be virtually spelled out in the script (sexy Scrabble, need I say more?) in order to come to the surface of this production.

What really brings this story out of 2009 and into the present day is an impressive set design by Emily Bestow. Bestow has eschewed some of the more obvious suburban domestic trappings, and instead we have a kind of deconstructed IKEA model home – the visual manifestation of Ned’s panicked monologue about seeing 78 new builds that “all have our kitchen”. Also eye-catching is the architectural floor plan projected onto the backdrop, its carefully pencilled in rooms twisting and contorting along with the plot.

Unfortunately, the projection work doesn’t stop there – I’m not sure we needed key words from the show’s most crucial monologues to be scrawled across the wall, drawing our eyes away from the actors for a little too long. Overall, though, it’s a strong attempt at visualising how domestic ideals gradually unravel and put themselves back together again.

There’s a satisfying feeling in seeing how Butterworth’s favourite themes – domesticity, community, ennui – coalesced in his lesser known, earlier works. Parlour Song doesn’t reinvent the wheel in any way, but it’s still a wheel that’s worth turning.

Parlour Song runs at Greenwich Theatre until 24 May