James Corden returns to the stage in this new and extremely relevant political drama...
OUR VERDICT
The timing of Joe Penhall’s new play at the Old Vic couldn’t be better.
With the country in the midst of a general election, The Constituent stars BAFTA Award winner Anna Maxwell Martin (Motherland, Line of Duty) as a hard-working opposition backbencher whose ideals of public office are tested by the demands of a man in crisis, played by Tony, BAFTA and Emmy Award winner James Corden (One Man, Two Guvnors, The History Boys).
This gripping piece of theatre feels volatile from the outset; Alec (Corden) is fitting security tech in Monica’s (Maxwell Martin) office. They chat, laugh, and then comes Alec’s loaded line ‘you don’t remember me, do you?”.
It transpires that they went to the same school, knew each other's mums, etc. Decades later and they are living very different lives. Alec served in Afghanistan and has all the psychological wounds to prove it. Erratic, paranoid and scared, he returned from the traumas of war in search of a ‘boring’ life with a ‘bungalow, kids, and a labrador’ but things haven’t gone to plan. Monica is an MP with an instinct for compassion, juggling to keep herself, her constituents and her family safe and happy. In her, Alec sees hope.
From this initial encounter, the tension steadily – and brilliantly – builds. It transpires that Alec, who is on a cocktail of anti-psychotic medication, is in the middle of a messy divorce and has made threats against his family – namely his ex-wife and her new partner. Alec wants Monica to help, but as his intensity builds, she becomes torn between fear and compassion. Both characters are struggling unsupported in a world where “billionaires are making all the rules”. There is an irony that Alec – who works in fitting security alarms and panic buttons – quickly becomes the source of Monica’s greatest threat.
Both characters are struggling unsupported in a world where “billionaires are making all the rules”.
The action is directed by Olivier and Tony Award winner Matthew Warchus (A Christmas Carol, Matilda The Musical) and mostly unfolds in Monica’s office. Rob Howell’s set is simple, with stalls seats on both sides, and it’s a pleasing 90 minutes without an interval.
Tense scenes are frustratingly interrupted by dated lighting and obvious, politically charged songs by the likes of Billy Bragg and The Smiths. Disrupting both the pace and sense of immersion, these pauses do at least allow some time to digest Penhall’s meaty script.
Maxwell Martin is perfect as Monica; reliably articulate and engaging, she acutely demonstrates the immense weight of the work-life juggle / struggle, her physicality changing as the tension progresses; both her and her shirt becoming visibly crumpled as the drama unfolds. You can sense her palpable exhaustion, both physical and mental, as she tries to conduct a glitchy Zoom call whilst riding an exercise bicycle.
Known more today his for starry stateside career than his brilliant past performances in the likes of One Man, Two Guvnors and The History Boys, Corden is excellent. We get a glimpse of that familiar cheeky chappy humour at first, but as things take a darker turn, he is both painfully vulnerable and unsettlingly threatening. His final sobbing scene – a physical and emotional manifestation of a broken system - is incredibly moving.
The third wheel is cocky parliamentary protection officer, Mellor, deftly played by Zachary Hart. With care only for himself and for Monica’s safety, he dismisses her empathy and instead issues her a stab proof vest – “now available on expenses” but with a hole in it. Later in the play he commits a deed far less noble, but is this because the system has let him down too?
Performances are powerful all round, but it is Penhall’s script that is the real star of the show.
Performances are powerful all round, but it is Penhall’s script that is the real star of the show. It deconstructs politics, panic alarms and the troubling conflict between public service and personal safety. Deeply observant and brilliantly clever without pretension, it highlights the need for context and empathy. It is also of course extremely topical, and brimming with both sadness and optimism in equal measure.
‘Why would you want to help me?”, Alec tearfully asks. ‘Mercy and compassion,’ Monica replies.
In a world of political turmoil and deeply problematic leadership, one has to hope that there are still politicians in the world like her.
LIMITED RUN until 10 Aug, tickets from £13. www.oldvictheatre.com. Old Vic Theatre, 103 The Cut, London SE1 8NB
