Review of Yes, Prime Minister
Review of Yes, Prime Minister at the Theatre Royal, Glasgow
Adapting TV programmes for the stage is always hard, and bringing back a national institution like Yes, Prime Minister was always going to be doubly so. Following a sell-out run at London's Gielgud Theature, original writers Antony Jay & Jonathan Lynn have brought this 80's classic to the constituency of Glasgow, rewritten and updated for our new, troubled times. On top of the trials of running a coalition government, the global financial crisis and the increasing failure of the British Pound, Prime Minister Jim Hacker is faced with a dreadful moral dilemma: he can sign a deal with oil-rich Kumranistan for a multi-million dollar pipeline and wipe out his financial woes in one fell swoop, but only if he also agrees to secure an underage prostitute for the visiting Kumrani foreign minister.
The first half sees us on familiar ground: Hacker is amusingly bamboozled by an elegantly complex but precisely delivered speech from Sir Humphrey as well as Bernard's flurry of Latin proverbs. He then cunningly gets his own plans through by threatening to cut Sir Humphrey's index-linked pension and forces him to choose the lesser of two evils. On TV, this sizzling battle of wits, framed in a claustrophobic tight shot was a powerful display of testosterone and political brilliance. Unfortunately, much of the heat simply fizzles out when stretched across the length of a stage and most of the tension is lost. It's fun to revisit fond memories, but the lazy writing feels more like a "greatest hits" compilation rather than anything fresh.
In the second half, the sleazy subject matter makes for such uncomfortable viewing that it's difficult to find any humour at all and I was personally relieved when it was all over. Most of the laughs (and don't get me wrong, there were several) came from visual gags rather than witty repartee, which felt rather out of place. I wasn't watching a satire, I was faced with a crude farce that occasionally lapsed into pantomime. People ran in and out of doors, hid under tables or gurned at the audience without ever bothering to develop their character past the most basic of facade.
Simon Williams elects to play Sir Humphrey Appleby with much more smug restraint than his TV counterpart Nigel Hawthorn, but in doing so loses much of the character's charm. Richard McCabe on the other hand really goes to town with a showy, headbanging, foul mouthed rendition of Jim Hacker, but elicits little to no sympathy in the process. Paul Eddington's original Hacker was a confused but well meaning soul, but McCabe plays him as a smarmy, self-serving moral vacuum. Then again, in one of the play's more funny lines, Sir Humphrey snidely observes, "Power abhors a vacuum and we are currently led by one." Chris Larkin's Bernard Woolley is sympathetic but often loses his way through sniveling over-acting. Charlotte Lucas plays Special Policy Advisor Claire Sutton (a replacement for the shrewd Dorothy Wainwright) as a Hell on high heels version of Alistair Campbell and strides round the stage like a woman possessed. This cast wouldn't know the meaning of the word "subtlety" if it hit them over the head with a Blackberry.
Although the modernisation of the piece was clearly an attempt to make it more relevant to the 24 hour news generation, much of the original's appeal was its timeless quality. The central conceit was that Ministers strut and fret their hour across the political stage and then are heard no more, but the immovable Sir Humphrey and the great lumbering beast of the Civil Service remain. The modern language and plethora of gadgets feel tacked on and serve nothing but to cheapen the gravitas of the setting. The one thing I have no complaints about was the sumptuous oak-paneled and book lined set which perfectly reproduced the grandeur of Chequers. It's just a shame that the writers missed such a fantastic opportunity to fill it with anything worthwhile.
Adapting TV programmes for the stage is always hard, and bringing back a national institution like Yes, Prime Minister was always going to be doubly so. Following a sell-out run at London's Gielgud Theature, original writers Antony Jay & Jonathan Lynn have brought this 80's classic to the constituency of Glasgow, rewritten and updated for our new, troubled times. On top of the trials of running a coalition government, the global financial crisis and the increasing failure of the British Pound, Prime Minister Jim Hacker is faced with a dreadful moral dilemma: he can sign a deal with oil-rich Kumranistan for a multi-million dollar pipeline and wipe out his financial woes in one fell swoop, but only if he also agrees to secure an underage prostitute for the visiting Kumrani foreign minister.
The first half sees us on familiar ground: Hacker is amusingly bamboozled by an elegantly complex but precisely delivered speech from Sir Humphrey as well as Bernard's flurry of Latin proverbs. He then cunningly gets his own plans through by threatening to cut Sir Humphrey's index-linked pension and forces him to choose the lesser of two evils. On TV, this sizzling battle of wits, framed in a claustrophobic tight shot was a powerful display of testosterone and political brilliance. Unfortunately, much of the heat simply fizzles out when stretched across the length of a stage and most of the tension is lost. It's fun to revisit fond memories, but the lazy writing feels more like a "greatest hits" compilation rather than anything fresh.
In the second half, the sleazy subject matter makes for such uncomfortable viewing that it's difficult to find any humour at all and I was personally relieved when it was all over. Most of the laughs (and don't get me wrong, there were several) came from visual gags rather than witty repartee, which felt rather out of place. I wasn't watching a satire, I was faced with a crude farce that occasionally lapsed into pantomime. People ran in and out of doors, hid under tables or gurned at the audience without ever bothering to develop their character past the most basic of facade.
Simon Williams elects to play Sir Humphrey Appleby with much more smug restraint than his TV counterpart Nigel Hawthorn, but in doing so loses much of the character's charm. Richard McCabe on the other hand really goes to town with a showy, headbanging, foul mouthed rendition of Jim Hacker, but elicits little to no sympathy in the process. Paul Eddington's original Hacker was a confused but well meaning soul, but McCabe plays him as a smarmy, self-serving moral vacuum. Then again, in one of the play's more funny lines, Sir Humphrey snidely observes, "Power abhors a vacuum and we are currently led by one." Chris Larkin's Bernard Woolley is sympathetic but often loses his way through sniveling over-acting. Charlotte Lucas plays Special Policy Advisor Claire Sutton (a replacement for the shrewd Dorothy Wainwright) as a Hell on high heels version of Alistair Campbell and strides round the stage like a woman possessed. This cast wouldn't know the meaning of the word "subtlety" if it hit them over the head with a Blackberry.
Although the modernisation of the piece was clearly an attempt to make it more relevant to the 24 hour news generation, much of the original's appeal was its timeless quality. The central conceit was that Ministers strut and fret their hour across the political stage and then are heard no more, but the immovable Sir Humphrey and the great lumbering beast of the Civil Service remain. The modern language and plethora of gadgets feel tacked on and serve nothing but to cheapen the gravitas of the setting. The one thing I have no complaints about was the sumptuous oak-paneled and book lined set which perfectly reproduced the grandeur of Chequers. It's just a shame that the writers missed such a fantastic opportunity to fill it with anything worthwhile.