Review: THE AMERICAN WIFE, Park Theatre, 9 September 2016

We know that policemen have, under deep cover, maintained long-term relationships (even fathering children) with those on whom they were spying - so what if the tactic were reversed and a Daesh operative lived a highly conventional life in San Diego whilst directing terrorism abroad and at home? That is the premise, and it's not a bad one, of The American Wife - unfortunately, it's pretty much the only good thing about the production.

Director James Kemp keeps the action pacy and effects some slick and inventive set changes with good work from designer Zahra Mansouri, but nothing can rescue a script so implausible and so packed with cliches and clunkers that, despite the seriousness of the subject matter, it's sometimes hard to keep a straight face. One can only think that writers Ralph Pezzullo and Stephen Fife, both of whom enjoy solid track records, each left the plot, dialogue and characterisation to the other, because we get precious little that makes sense or engages our emotions.

What we do get is a terrorist suspect being interrogated in Afghanistan and later Egypt under the murky legal framework set up in the wake of 9/11. He is, somewhat improbably, an ex-professional footballer with Real Madrid no less, who, when transferred to Valencia, took the opportunity to out-Ultra the Ultras and bomb seven cities, presumably while sitting on the subs bench. Believe it or not, a fixture list tying seven Valencia matches' locations to bombings is presented as proof of his involvement, a triumph for the FBI.

The cast do what they can with a script that is heavy on exposition but low on subtlety (and there's a whole other debate that I shan't explore here about the crude characterisation of anyone with brown skin - or a Morrocan father), and I felt particularly for Julia Eringer as the eponymous wife, Karen, who, at times, is required simply to stand on stage and announce her thoughts.

George Taylor does what he can with the mysterious journalist Mark Loomis, who keeps popping up like the shopkeeper in Mr Benn to rescue Karen, but it's a painfully underwritten part. The rest of the cast all play multiple roles and it takes a little while to work out if they are a new character or one we've seen before. The script feels like it's been cobbled together at Fox News in a couple of lunchbreaks.

Suddenly a bag, seemingly having avoided being searched by the authorities, is presented to Karen, who blithely takes it aboard a flight to Egypt without even a cursory check that she's not being used to traffic drugs. The bag contains a damning document seemingly not just in clear rather than code, but also conveniently in English, which convinces everyone after no more than ten seconds' reading and the play is more or less done, any cliffhanging denouement rejected in favour of a spectacular, if unsatisfactory, close . That the document (the contents of which are not shared with the audience) might be a fake, after all the warnings that the FBI and CIA will do anything to nail their man, is never considered by anyone even for a moment.

Nobody thinks that staging plays, especially new plays, is easy and sometimes it's useful to be reminded of that. And this production makes staging plays look very difficult indeed. An evening spent watching is certainly preferable to one spent in a Cairo dungeon - but it's a close call.

The American Wife continues at the Park Theatre until 1 October.

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