Review: THE GOLDEN F**KING YEARS, Brockley Jack Studio Theatre

Gordon (well, it had to be "Gordon" didn't it?) has travelled that ever so short distance from being bored to being boring, much to the chagrin of his wife, Helen, who is trying to read yet another piece of genre fiction to pass the time. The ice clinks in the G&T, the Costa Geriatrica sun beats down and the years drift one into the next.

Or so they both sorta thought, but Gordon meets Cath in a local bar and the younger woman, on the lookout for property and proper fun, whatthehells him into her room and sets off a tsunami of consequences in the beachside apartments.

If (and I confess I did find this a little difficult) you can leave behind the feeling that you're watching the pilot episode of a new six part sitcom starring Julie Walters and Bill Nighy , Adrian McLoughlin's first play is a lot of fun.

As Gordon, he has something of Ken Campbell's Essex timbre in his voice and, pleasingly, some of the old rogue's mannerisms too. McLoughlin's script and acting carefully constructs a character with whom men can empathise and women sympathise (there were genuine "ahs" around me as Gordon's world collapsed) without losing his essential monstrous dullness, so critical to the plot - as ever, internal consistency is vital in making comedy work.

Deborah Maclaren's Helen emerges from behind the inevitable oversized sunnies to trade verbal punches convincingly with Gordon and Cath, reining in what must have been a temptation to overact the part into caricature. Though the most er... pleasured of the three, her fiery sexuality is necessarily kept in check, making it just about believable that she stayed with Gordon for 20 years. All three actors need, and display, plenty of stagecraft to keep the farce credible.

Anneli Page's Cath takes a little more time to warm towards, but the pansexual prowler leaps into life the moment she jumps into bed. Page subtly shows that a life too full of excitement can lead to the same kind of boredom as a life emptied of it. She rounds off three nuanced, skilled and engaging performances, a delight to observe up close in this intimate theatre.

There are a few missteps along the way. Cath may be desperate for fun, but was she so desperate that she would go for Gordon? Did Gordon's swift resort to physical violence really fit his otherwise complacent, benign character? With pace so critical to comedy, why waste time with Helen's on-off lover on the end of a phone, a largely redundant character?

But comedy is devilishly difficult to get right and notoriously subjective in its reception, so such criticisms can be passed over in a play that gets plenty of laughs based on a script full of things I've said and heard. It should be noted too and that this Vital Signs Productions show places middle aged Brits at the centre of the action, rather than barely post-teen American characters, of whom one sees rather too many of on the London stage.

Delivered all-through in 90 minutes, it's even user-friendly for the ageing bladder...

The Golden F**king Years continues at the Jack Studio Theatre until 28 April.

Photo Chris de Wilde

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