The Alchemist – Reviewed

The Alchemist, first show of the new season at the Playhouse, proves beyond any doubt that all that glitters isn’t gold… 

The con, the grift, the scam. Along with alchemy, they’re amongst the oldest games in town, and this retelling of Ben Jonson’s farce The Alchemist is packed full of them. At its core, this play is about greed, and the ease with which people are led when sex or riches, or both are involved.

Of course, while it was first written and performed  in the 17th Century, those central tenets hold very true today, and it’s upon those foundations that The Alchemist, in theory, should be able to reach and engage a modern audience. Brought to us by director Robert Icke, who we’re reliably told in the programme is a man of rare, and “brave vision”, we, and the rest of the audience wait with baited breath.

The play is performed mostly in ye olde English of the time, and initially we assume it is our struggling to get to grips with this that results in our being underwhelmed. But shifting in our seats and glancing at the time when only 30 minutes or so have passed does not make for a good sign. By the time we’re told it’s the interval and a cast member suggests ‘we should go and get an ice-cream’, it feels something of a relief.

Sipping our 24 carat gold ale and nibbling on chocolate coins – nice thematic touches – the thought that most occurs is that watching The Alchemist is akin to being told an old joke, over and over, but in slightly different guises. There is lots of dress-up going on, but no matter what costume is donned, the joke remains the same. The cast is doing a fine job with the physical exertion this entails, but this frequently feels like a too-long sketch show from the 70s.

Maybe the next act will be better, we proffer, more in hope than expectation. Any such thoughts are quickly scuppered with the introduction of a further few characters. One of them, the brother of a widow catching the eye of at least two of the principle cast-members, is the very embodiment of the joke re-told in the hope it eventually draws a laugh. An awkward physically-driven catchphrase, which, not unfairly, draws groans from a couple behind us.

At this point, being a member of the audience is becoming a real war of attrition, as we are gradually worn down by a play which simply doesn’t offer enough depth or subtlety for today’s unforgivingly savvy audience. It simply isn’t enough now to serve up a production not terribly far removed from something which wouldn’t seem out of place in the music hall era.

The main problem with The Alchemist isn’t that its source material is 400 years old, and certainly not one performance-based, more that this rendering appears to think so highly of itself. The 17th Century English with a modern-day setting mash-up, and scatterings of post-modern ‘breaking the fourth wall’ shenanigans are hardly new as theatrical or pop-culture devices go, but Icke treats these things with such self-reverie that indicates he is under the illusion of doing them for the first time.

Checking e-mails after we return home, this thought is compounded when we come across a request stating: “the director has asked, as a courtesy, if you could refrain from revealing a few key plot points in any reviews.” Fair enough, you may say, but this request robs the reviewer of the opportunity to refer to a couple of the more interesting aspects of the play which, one in-particular, add a flourish to proceedings it otherwise lacks.

The Alchemist continues until Saturday the 6th October @ the Playhouse