Roundelay,

Theatre Royal,

Bath

I AM a strong believer in the unique nature of theatre. Unlike a film, a live performance should surprise us and to some extent surprise and excite the actors themselves from opening to closing night.

Otherwise what is the point? We might as well record the show’s premiere once and play it on a large screen in every theatre across the country, no need of a tour - much less hassle.

So when I heard about Alan Ayckbourn’s latest experimental gem, Roundelay, I was hooked.

The play creates a fluid piece, made up of four (almost) stand-alone scenes, which are run in random order decided by the audience, prior to each performance. It is luck of the draw- quite literally.

In fact Roundelay strictly speaking consists of five mini plays but only four make the cut for each performance and with 120 possible combinations, it is more or less a new incarnation of itself every time it hits the stage.

My tardy arrival meant I had no say in the choice or order of the scenes, which went as follows The Judge, The Star, The Novelist and The Politician. This left The Agent for another night.

As thrilled and eager as I was to see Roundelay unfold in all its arbitrariness, I must admit I was underwhelmed by the opening scene – the story of a judge who pays a call girl to impersonate his late wife, Noni, to relive his long-forgotten budding romance with her.

I simply didn’t feel drawn to the characters who are each still longing, in their own way, for their lost youth - a time when life lay ahead full of promise.

The coin toss of scene selection did not quite satisfy my appetite for an engrossing story until the second scene unfolded and, as the performance progressed, Roundelay became more absorbing. Leaving it all to chance could not have fostered better results. Of course fate, was lent a helping hand by Ayckbourn’s tremendous talent for writing self-contained acts and painting believable and deeply poignant characters in record time.

I can honestly say I stopped breathing as Blanche (Sarah Stanley), a self-published crime author, who lives in utter denial of the recent death of her mother, unveils the plot of her latest tome in The Novelist.

The Politician’s clever attack of the power thirsty men (and women) at the helm of our country was uproarious. It was as deliciously gripping.

Such an ambitious project could not have been carried off by a lesser cast. Each actor imbued his character with remarkable complexity and humanity in the very short time he or she was given. That in itself was a remarkable achievement. While all deserved praise, a special mention must be made of Richard Stacey (Russ), Sarah Stanley and Russell Dixon (Tom).

For those punctual spectators who may play a hand in the order of Roundelay this week, I highly recommend The Novelist and The Politician. But not necessarily in that order. - Marion Sauvebois