Review: THE ALCHEMIST, Barbican Theatre, 14 September 2016

What larks!

London is ravaged by the Plague, but every con artist knows that the misfortune of others is merely an opportunity for them, so when wealthy Lovewit flees benighted Blackfriars, his butler, Jeremy, takes over the house, assumes the identity of his alter-ego Face and invites friends and co-conners, Subtle and Dol, along for the ride. Word gets around that base metal is being transmuted to gold in their cellar and soon the three scammers have the greedy and the gullible beating a path to their door, mark after mark handing over money on the promise of riches - financial or marital.

Mark Lockyer has great fun as Subtle, a man whose unscrupulous wit is his fortune and whose talent for adopting personas requires a careful calibration of costumes and voices as his "customers" pile up outside the door. Siobhan McSweeney is as convincing a worn-out Irish working girl as she is a flame-haired temptress, her gimlet eye (understandably) on ensuring that there is indeed honour amongst thieves and that she gets her fair share. Ken Nwosu's Face is the relatively calm centre of the hurricane, getting the marks in and out of the house and arranging trysts as required - he's a naughty Jeeves.

All three are funny in their own right (and this play, though using the language, costumes and mores of 400 years ago, is very funny, its influence on the likes of Fawlty Towers and The Sting not just evident in the accompanying music, but in the plot too) - but the marks get the most laughs. John Cummins, Richard Leeming and Joshua McCord are highly amusing as a bunch of stooges in a range of outrageous costumes, and even Rosa Robson, as a much sought-after widow, though barely required to do much more than be beautiful, gets laughs from the most minimal of asides.

In no way minimal are my three favourites in this gallery of grotesques. Tom McCall's Kastril wishes to learn how to quarrel (as Micheal Palin once wished to learn how to argue in an old Python sketch) and, channelling the spirit of the much missed Rik Mayall, frenetically spoils for a fight with anyone and everyone. A supercilious Surly allows Tim Samuels to be (entirely justifiably) cynical about the claims of the con artists and don a magnificent garb as a fake Spanish Count.

Best of all is Ian Redford, whose extraordinary list of goods he will buy with the help of the Philosopher's Stone's gold-making magic brought forth applause like a showstopping song - Sir Epicure Mammon is well-named indeed. And look out for a brilliantly timed visual gag in the second half.

It's all lovely to look at, very pacy after cuts by director Polly Findlay to bring it in under two and a half hours (with a welcome interval) and packed with laughs from beginning to unexpected and charming finale. Seats aren't cheap but, unlike the punters who pitched up at Lovewit's house, we absolutely get what we pay for.

The Alchemist continues at the Barbican Theatre until 1 October.

Photo Helen Maybanks

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