Pensioner power comes into its own in the second half of this double bill, as an old lady - with an expression that could freeze hell - fires two gun shots into the air. It is the climax of an evening that investigates how the modern world clashes with those who grew up in a Britain epitomised by proudly waved Union Jacks, dirt-strong tea with limp sandwiches, and end-of-the-pier entertainment that brought out goosepimples for all the wrong reasons.
Playwright Adam Pernak was only 21 when his play Killers premiered at the Royal Court and won the George Devine Award. In the evening's first play, The Bill Cantor Story, he takes a satirical swipe at the idea that now you can't be a TV personality unless you can shuck an oyster with one hand and create an elaborate water feature for your garden with the other. Director Sarah Esdaile attracted highly favourable reviews for her last production, See How Beautiful I Am, but here she should have been far more ruthless about the script. She has staged and cast this production with flair, yet Pernak's decision to use a sub-Jim Davidson comedian as an example of the old TV order struggling against the vacuous new regime is ill-observed and makes for blunt satire.
However, Matt Attwood's design, which features a number of suspended TV screens among heaped-up chairs, allows a sophisticated visual aesthetic to be created where film and stage can slickly interact. Two nights before press night, the most dazzling presence in front of this backdrop was Maria Charles, both as Bill, the comedian's ancient yet acidic agent, and as the dour grandmother who has been weaned on racist attitudes in the second play. Despite such a highlight, it is clear that Pernak needs to radically refocus his style. This is not the writing of a prize-winner.
Bill And Esme
