MICK MCSHANE is roused by a band whose socialism laces every line of every song with commitment and raw passion
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Absolutely hellish tedium
Excellent performances can't redeem the inconsequentiality of Rodney Ackland's play, says MAYER WAKEFIELD
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Absolute Hell
National Theatre, London
RODNEY ACKLAND'S 1952 play Absolute Hell and the director of this latest revival, Joe Hill-Gibbins, both come with a reputation for raucousness. Surprising then that, despite many a flourish, this production fails to deliver on its satanic promise.
Set in the immediate aftermath of WWII Soho, with a Labour election victory looming, Ackland’s work — initially titled The Pink Room — was greeted with such negative critical fervour that it was forced to close within three weeks, losing its producer Terence Rattigan £3,500 and their friendship to boot.
A series of high-profile revivals have restored the play's reputation and that of its author, but, despite painting beautifully detailed character sketches, the full picture ultimately underwhelms in 2018.
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