Review: LE GRAND MORT, Trafalgar Studios

Sex and death often go hand in hand. The french term "La petite mort" literally means "the sensation of org*sm as likened to death" (OED). And Le Grand Mort certainly goes big on this theme. Intimate and intense, Christopher Renshaw's production is packed with passion, but feels rather anticlimactic.

Everything is ordered and precise in Michael's life. From his kitchen to his memories and even feelings, everything has its place. Then Tim arrives for dinner. While Michael is nourished by fact, Tim feeds his fantasies. The two flirt with stories throughout the evening, seeing their Marilyn Monroe and raising them a Michael Jackson, a shared morbid fascination with sex. There are stories that we are told, stories that we tell others, and stories that we tell ourselves. But which stories can Michael and the audience believe, if any? Flirtation turns fatal, as Michael and Tim engage in a deadly game.

Intimate is certainly the word for Justin Nardella's set and Trafalgar Studio 2 itself. So much so that you can even smell the food which Michael prepares for his guest, all in a fully functioning kitchen. Everything about this staging is stylish and subtle...save for the massive penis on the wall. Sex and sin pervade Renshaw's production, Leonardo Da Vinci's "Vitruvian Man" proving quite the talking point to touch on at this dinner party.

In this 90 minute two-hander, the late Stephen Clark's script explores and exposes the boundaries of traditional storytelling. From the first scene, we are caught off guard. As Michael prepares a puttanesca, he considers the relationship between sex and death in protacted pentameter and rhyming couplets. It's unexpected and strangely joyous to hear, the internal rhyme in particular making for some well timed laughs in Clark's witty script.

As Michael and Tim's battle of wits heats up, the action jumps back to their first meeting earlier that day. Michael gets lost in these reveries and details: a text, a broken phone, a pub quiz. While he is concerned with the "were", Tim is more interested in the "here". This tension makes their dynamic all the more potent. It's a shame the play stops where it does, following a tense standoff. The "hereafter" seems far more interesting than the "were".

The reveries soon turn dark, as Michael's real reason for bringing Tim here is revealed. These moments are accompanied by some overly-dramatic music, meant to complement the tone; this does not so much underscore the piece as much as shout its intent, already obvious to the audience. Overall, the soundscape is rather confused in Renshaw's production. The repeated rhyme of the opening monologue soon tires the audience and seemingly Julian Clary too. It feels less Shakespearean and more fairy tale. Tim even likens himself to Pinocchio at one point, the famous children's character. In his opening monologue, Clary's delivery does feel a tad pantomimic.

Clary can convey so much with just a look, a pause or even complete silence. Before his very first line, he has already received a dozen laughs. His dry sense of humour shines through, flourishing in the dark humour of Clark's script (written specifically for Clary). At points, the sheer volume of language does seem to overwhelm him. Clary trips over a couple of the rhymes, though this seemed to be more nerves than anything else.

The character of Tim can play so many shades, and so can James Nelson-Joyce. He draws you in with such sincerity, and breaks it in a heartbeat. It's a joy to watch Nelson-Joyce play with this role. His energetic portrayal perfectly balances against Clary's deadpan delivery, the dramatic tension and chemistry palpable. They bring a new meaning to the phrase: do they want to kiss or kill each other?

Dark and delectable, Le Grand Mort leaves you hungry for more.

Le Grand Mort at Trafalgar Studios until 28 October

Picture credit: Scott Rylander

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