Belinda Lang

The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

31/05/23

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

I was a big fan of Deborah Moggach’s books back in the 80s and 90s. You Must Be Sisters, in particular, made an indelible impression. Although I didn’t read These Foolish Things, when it hit the silver screen in 2011 as The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, I was primed to enjoy it – and I kind of did. Under John Madden’s direction and with a stellar cast, it struck me as a good-natured, feel-good slice of cinema.

It seems to be a truth universally acknowledged that a successful, ‘uplifting’ film should be adapted into a touring play, so it’s no surprise to find TBEMH added to the roll call. This gentle comedy tells the tale of the widowed Mrs Kapoor (Rekha John-Cheryan) and her hapless son, Sonny (Nishad More), owners of the dilapidated titular hotel. His mother wants to sell the failing business, but Sonny has another idea. He’s been reading about the way old people are treated in the UK: abandoned by their families; ripped off by care homes. Why not repurpose their building as a residential hotel, where elderly white English people can see out their days?

Enter a rag-tag of pensioners: mousy Evelyn (Tessa Peake-Jones), recently widowed and terribly timid; smug married “been-there-done-that” know-it-alls Jean (Eileen Battye) and Douglas (Paul Nicholas); mysterious ex-broadcaster Dorothy (Paola Dionisotti); would-be comedian Norman (Graham Seed); sexy Madge (Belinda Lang), on the hunt for a fourth husband; and Muriel (Marlene Sidaway), ex-cleaner and current bigot. Of course, they’re all on journeys of self-discovery, and India provides the perfect exotic backdrop…

The jokes land well with tonight’s audience and there is much laughter in the auditorium but, in all honesty, it’s an uncomfortable watch. It’s 2023, and we’re all more aware than we were back in 2011. Now, the white saviour narrative feels dated and horribly self-aggrandising. I wince as Muriel points out the inequity of the caste system, thus enlightening Mrs Kapoor and convincing her to promote the ‘Untouchable’ sweeper (Anant Varman). I cringe as the old white women solve Sonny’s relationship problems by telling him to marry for love and reject the idea of an arranged marriage. I squirm as Evelyn educates the lively call-centre workers (Shila Iqbal and Kerena Jagpal), smashing their sales targets with a bit of good English common sense. There is the occasional attempt to temper this (“It was the young people’s idea”), etc., but – basically – it’s the Indians’ role to inspire the Brits by smiling through adversity, and it’s the Brits’ role to show the Indians how to get things done. Sigh.

I’ll file this one under ‘A’ for ‘Awkward’.

2.5 stars

Susan Singfield

Duet For One

31/10/17

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

Tom Kempinski’s Duet for One has enjoyed considerable success – both critical and commercial – since it was first staged in 1980. And this production, directed by Robin Lefevre, has much to recommend it, not least an incredibly detailed set showcasing Dr  Feldmann (Oliver Cotton)’s extensive music collection.

But, somehow, it leaves me cold. I don’t think it’s the acting. Belinda Lang is wonderfully acerbic as Stephanie, the famous violinist struggling to cope after being diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. She’s funny and sad, strong and brittle, and her bravado and vulnerability are beautifully played. Cotton has a lot less to do as Feldman – this is undoubtedly Stephanie’s play – but he makes a decent fist of it, manipulating the many long silences expertly. And there’s a delicious awkwardness created by the direction, a horrible claustrophobia in Feldmann’s office, highlighted by Stephanie’s frustrated wheeling around the space in her motorised wheelchair, sitting staring at blank walls, turning her back on Feldman (and on us).

The problem, for me, is the play itself. I don’t think there’s enough in it, and what there is doesn’t quite convince. It all seems a bit one-note; nothing changes – not really. Sure, Stephanie is forced to confront reality, her façade of ‘getting on with it’ steadily eroded so that she has to finally face the truth of her situation, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Where’s Feldmann’s development? What does he learn from Stephanie? What’s the point of depicting a relationship like this one if there’s nothing symbiotic there?

In the end, it all feels too didactic (the lines about citalopram and venlafaxine in particular are as clunky as can be), like an advert for therapy, pop-psychiatry in play-form. It’s terribly earnest – dare I say, pompous? – and, despite those excellent performances, it really doesn’t work for me.

2.9 stars

Susan Singfield