Love and Money (Oberon Modern Plays)

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Duncan a sleazy 'agent' who engages separately with both Jess and David, offering opportunities in pornography to relieve debt NICHOLAS DE JONGH for THE EVENING STANDARD says, "In Matthew Dunster's stylish production Love and Money offers food for uncomfortable thoughts." PAUL TAYLOR for THE INDEPENDENT says, "Stylish production." CHARLES SPENCER for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH says, "One of the best new plays of the year...One leaves the theatre with the exhilarating certainty that one has encountered a dramatist blessed with both rare skill and a profound understanding of the way we live now." SAM MARLOWE for THE TIMES says, "Sharp, sad new play...searing direction." It also allows for a sense of achievement by the end, rather like the pleasure in completing the latest Sudoku but at least with a little more point. As in Sondheim’s “Merrily We Roll Along” (albeit without song), the scenario, once set up, steadily reverses over the course of the evening. Thus, by the poignant end, aud’s knowledge of the outcome is contrasted with Jess’ earlier, hopeful self, dreaming of a life like that promised by TV. You know the powder, you buy the powder in, while no one was looking I put it into the machine and stirred it all in and left it and it clogged up the machine and they all stood around it staring at it, hurt, like it was a dead puppy.

As the roles overlap, so does Kelly's script. Many of the scenes are stylised by characters' speech constantly cutting across each other in a natural yet surprising fashion. that, I have mice and I caught this one on glue paper, you know, the glue traps, I've tried everything else Some of the meaning of Love and Money may take more than one viewing or reading to come through. However, there is enough to wrestle with at first sight to provoke thought about the rat race and its victims and to make the play well worth a try. you have to, you know, despatch them, so I put a cloth over it and I hit it on the head with a cup, a mug, This is a play about death and Big Ideas and what Ed Miliband might call predatory capitalism, but it’s really funny, too. And I don’t think that’s an accident. The Godfather of modern political theatre Bertolt Brecht believed laughter and fun were essential to the political power of theatre, and this production certainly makes the most of the dark humour which accompanies the vitriolic critique.

About the show

I wince every time our prudent Chancellor boasts about growth. Producing more goods and services does not necessarily equate to 'being better off', or more importantly, to being happier. Growth also has a significant impact on global warming and increases the pressure on natural resources, and it's often fuelled by borrowing. More people than ever are now up to their consumerist eyeballs in debt, with record numbers seeking protection from creditors by filing for bankruptcy. It's a situation which bears all the hallmarks of impending doom. Inventively written to turn what many will see as a dry subject into something more compelling, 'Love and Money' is a long overdue theatrical vehicle to warn us of the burdens of debt, but it also forces us to re-examine what we mean by happiness. Though it's a fine example of social commentary, my ingrained cynicism tells me that it's impact will be lightly felt, if at all, out there in the wider community. Nevertheless, it's a commendable and eminently watchable production with messages that really do matter, and is therefore well worth a visit. Having heard his side of the story, we begin to focus on Jess and see both how happy and brittle she can be. It also becomes apparent that David's possessiveness did not lend itself to the achievement of a long and happy marriage.

There’s something almost forensic in Kelly’s approach that’s perfectly echoed in Matthew Dunster’s expert production. Its fluidity is accented by Anna Fleischle’s chilly, architectural set, which consists of two white and steel walls full of hidden hatches that flip open to provide everything from concealed cupboards to a hospital bed and even a fish tank. Authoritative and imaginative direction from Matthew Dunster, and an able and focused cast of six provide a stimulating concoction of wit and tragedy which keeps us engrossed even when the subject matter is unnerving, or when it shifts somewhat abruptly. Although each of the scenes is of a uniformly high standard, the best is where David is being interviewed for a job by an old college chum, Val, played with gloating superiority, perfect timing, and agile wordplay by Claudie Blakley. It's a scene powered by witty, sharp and hard-hitting dialogue. When David says "I don't want you to do me any favours", Val retorts pointedly "But I am doing you a favour". Val derides David's English degree (she has one in Business Studies, of course) and is in no doubt about just what is important to her and the rest of the world: cash. "I photosynthesise cash" she says. We get the measure of this kind of comedy early on from Jess’ parents, played by Billy Gurney and Maria Pullicino, as they reveal their distaste – and envy – for the ‘flash’ and ‘vulgar’ grave of a Greek woman next to their daughter’s. We can only laugh as the Father has his outburst about the price of the headstone (the Mother scorns him for mentioning VAT), but, as they keep saying, they’re not rich. Amongst the taboo humour, and probably the reason why we’re laughing, are the uncomfortable truths of just how hard death is to deal with. And even though we feel we shouldn’t worry about the (financial) cost, death, too, is a business. The spending goes on after Jess.

Characters and situations are shorn of preamble. Kelly instead goes for the immediacy of depicting clash moments where personal, often sexual, desire and the desire to earn and own turn combustible. Last week I caught a mouse in my flat, I have mice, which is something I don't really, I don't really like