No Show ****

In a seemingly innocuous urban apartment setting, a woman is preparing to host a gathering. She flits about with nervous energy, agonising over whether certain items ought to be hidden away, though her unease is quickly overtaken by the arrival of a swarm of guests.

The visitors and host are in fact cast members from a theatre production. They have just had their press night, whose assessment has been known to make or break a production. As they await the journalists’ verdict, the ensemble interacts, through a series of overlapping conversations and intimate exchanges.

The scenes are punctuated by a stream of voicemails from Frank, their director. A group of young actors, drinking heavily and on tenterhooks – what could possibly go wrong? Their various aspirations, jealousies, resentments, neuroses and designs on sexual partners gradually begin to surface. The mood shifts as the reviews appear, the show’s dynamic shifting. As the alcohol flows, intra-relationships are laid bare and even begin to unravel.

What appeared to be an observational portrait of a post-show gathering proceeds to take a significant turn, the disclosure of which would constitute a seismic plot spoiler.

The performances are, on the whole, strong, albeit occasionally a little varied, but there are fine moments of stillness amid the unravelling chaos, wherein unspoken thoughts visibly land. There were, notably, nuanced moments of understated comic timing. Celia Hellier and Goldie Majtas’ fine direction ensured that the pace of the production was relentless.

The writing was impressively devised by the team (Paige Sophie Cowell, Thomas Dee, Ella Green, Fatma Hammad, Aubrey Lavender, Fiona Lynch, Spike Padley and Victor Pilard). It was interesting and fluid, containing myriad influences. The agonising over and dissection of the word “bold” recalls arguments over tea making in Pinter’s The Dumb Waiter. Frank’s messages also contain elements of Pinter, being very much akin to Wilson’s unseen and inscrutable presence. The early moments even have echoes of Ionesco’s The Chairs. The plot twist is suggestive of, even the inverse of, Stoppard’s The Real Inspector Hound. You’ll have to see the production to make sense of that though.

With a minor tightening of the writing and some character development, it is easy to imagine Goldstone, Lavender No. 9 & Metric returning with an exceptional production.