(This play is closed now so it gets the quick treatment)
Take a slovenly shelf-stocker, a hyperactive Essex hoodie, and slam them into an apartment with a disgruntled soldier/terrorist/we’re-never-quite-told and blend with a Pinter-esque sense of ambiguous reality. The result? In My Name. Whiny sloppy white loser has been renting his flat to a nervous, uptight Middle-Eastern looking fellow that’s sleeping on the couch when 7/7 hits. When Mr. Uptight starts hearing people talking in Arabic all over, he begins to panic as memories of raping someone’s 11 year old daughter in order to advance an interrogation. Add in the appearance of Mr. Hoodie making a racket, and you get rants about why people want to bomb the country: It stands for nothing anymore and we’re just superficial gadget freaks without beliefs, morals or direction.
The play’s biggest problem (it has many) is that none of the characters are likeable or worth getting behind. When the interval came (one needed to rework the set by shifting everything 1/3 towards stage right), the RZ hoped that all of them would die.
Redeeming qualities? One, namely the crudest game of Guess Who in theatrical history.
Where: Trafalgar Studios 2
How Much: £17.50
Concessions: Good question.
RZ Unofficial “Worth Paying”: Doesn’t matter since it’s not open.
RZ Other Notes: Hopefully I, Lear, which the RZ is seeing tomorrow, will fare better.