The Nap, Crucible, Sheffield, theatre review: Superlative one liners and uproarious comic routines

Conventional drama and snooker morph for a barn-storming conclusion which brilliantly showcases the Crucible in both its dramatic and sporting guises

Esther Coles as Stella, Dermott Crowley as Danny Killeen in The Nap. (Mark Douet)

David Attenborough may be Britain’s best loved naturalist but it is not just the animal kingdom that owes him an extraordinary debt of gratitude - the world of snooker does too. In 1969 whilst controller of BBC2 he commissioned Pot Black to show off the technological wizardry of colour television. It went on to become one of the nation’s favourite programmes and paved the way for the game’s undisputed high water mark. The nail-biting denouement of 1985 world championship “black ball” final between an upside-down glasses wearing Dennis Taylor and Steve “Interesting” Davis was watched by 18.5m late night viewers.

That match took place at the Sheffield Crucible, the undisputed home of snooker. Yet setting a play here about snooker is at once both natural and curious. It was a long held ambition of associate director Richard Wilson to do so. But one obvious problem is how to convincingly stage the snooker itself - a problem brilliantly resolved by recruiting professional player John Astley to the cast.

There are other issues too. The game is synonymous with the golden age of mass television audiences rather the more niche interests of the theatregoing public. And whereas once the top players were home grown household names today the sport is more popular in China and few could name more than a handful of its stars. However, Wilson and award-winning writer Richard Bean have conjured a piece of extraordinary theatre from the game’s precise and timeless routines. The play is also funny- really funny.

Bean’s dialogue is peppered with superlative one liners and uproarious comic routines. After a long, silent opening sequence in which our hero Dylan Spokes (Jack O’Connell) – a young man plucked from a life of educational failure and skunk dealing to find salvation on the green baize – is interrupted in his practice in the grimy Eccleshall Road snooker hall by the arrival of his wayward father Bobby played by the brilliant Mark Addy. “What a dump,” he observes scrutinising the faded plush of the surroundings. “It’s not the Crucible is it?” From that point on it is obvious this is something special.

The new realities of snooker are not all Chas and Dave and Rothmans cigarettes. Today the game, like many others, has caught the interest of betting syndicates and been tainted by match-fixing. It is this which drives the plot. Dylan has integrity and refuses to “tank” a frame – until he is made an offer he can’t resist by the play’s great comic creation Waxy Chuff (Louise Gold), a transgender local gangster who has built a criminal empire built on Sheffield ladies’ love of the Brazilian. Whilst Dylan digs deep into the game for meaning – adducing Zen-like wisdom from the commentaries of whispering Ted Lowe – Chuff regards it is little more than a cash cow. Conventional drama and snooker morph for a barn-storming conclusion which brilliantly showcases the Crucible in both its dramatic and sporting guises. Outstanding.