The Creeper, Playhouse, London <!-- none onestar threestar fourstar fivestar -->
Your support helps us to tell the story
From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.
At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.
Your support makes all the difference.It's eight years since Ian Richardson trod the boards and one can only surmise that his judgement has deserted him in choosing The Creeper as the vehicle for his comeback. Even as a period curiosity or a camp collector's item, Pauline Macaulay's mid-Sixties "psychological thriller" fails to pass muster. True, it allows Richardson to show off his talent for delectably dry, quizzical irony in the role of Edward Kimberly, a millionaire eccentric who expects more from his string of young "gentleman's companions" than anyone sane could bear. But why is he lending his abilities to preposterous, dated hokum?
The play focuses on the triangular relationship between Kimberly, Maurice (Oliver Dimsdale), the former Austin Reed salesman who is his latest companion, and Michel (Alan Cox), the queeny, aggrieved predecessor who got the push. The proceedings start promisingly, with Kimberly interviewing the awkward, uptight newcomer and expounding on the demands of the job. These involve being on hand the whole time (for 4am card games, midnight piano recitals etc) in return for pocket money, a lavish lifestyle, and gifts that must be surrendered on leaving the post. Sex is not required ("it's much more satisfying in my head"), but a capacity for alcohol is.
Hopes that the play will turn into a fully-fledged exercise in gay Gothic are gradually dashed. Indeed, its attitude to homosexuality is slightly suspect. Kimberly's mother, it emerges, abandoned him when he was 11, causing a lifelong aversion to women. He and the young man discover that both of them were left with difficult fathers. We're asked to believe that Maurice, much to the jealousy of Michel, starts to be a credit to his new quasi-paternal master, even taking up the piano to please him. At the same time, Kimberly, with his old family retainer (Harry Towb) and his creeper-choked trees, is conscious of symbolising an England that is ready for the chop.
It's all too absurd for words. And, though luxuriously cast and handsomely designed, Bill Bryden's revival underlines the extraordinary lack of tension. Oliver Dimsdale makes an impact with the damaged ingénu side of Maurice, but generates very little sense of menace.
They don't write plays like The Creeper any more and, after this, they won't be reviving them either.
Booking to 22 April (0870 060 6631)
Join our commenting forum
Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies
Comments