Alan Ayckbourn is the theatrical equivalent of Green and Blacks chocolate: a guilty (albeit classy) pleasure that most critics enjoy consuming in the dark but few extol in public. I say it’s time to stop scoffing Ayckbourn in secret. He is an excellent playwright who recognises that it is in the tiny details that big characters are found, that it is through precise mechanics that catastrophic farce is constructed and that it is with indirection that the bigger, emotional moments are created. He is also a writer who could not write without the stage and one who uses its particular powers – double vision, vaudeville comedy, heightened realism – to bring his plays bursting and buzzing into life. 

Bedroom Farce, one of Ayckbourn’s earlier works, is constructed with typical precision and panache. We open on a stage that will play host to three bedrooms, four interlinking couples and one chaotic night. The couples in question span the relationship spectrum: Delia and Ernest, celebrating their umpteenth wedding anniversary, Malcolm and Kate, in the first flushes of love having just moved in together, Jan and Nick, stuck in a new but creaking marriage and Susannah and Trevor – young, in love and all over the place. It is the stuff that farcical dreams are made of and, with such a careful and clever structure, all Ayckbourn has to do is light the match (in this case, the spark is set off by an ill-advised kiss between incurable romantic Trevor and his old-flame Jan) and watch the catastrophic comedy blaze through the bedrooms.

As with all good writers of farce, it is when Ayckbourn keeps things small – when he focuses on the details - that his comedy works best. Perhaps this is why the oldest couple on stage, played with pin-point accuracy by Jane Asher and Nicholas Le Prevost, are the star players here. Theirs’ is a life so entrenched in routine that Ayckbourn only has to whisper disorder and their comedy is set spiralling into motion.

So, the play kicks off with a leaking roof that drives Le Prevost’s Ernest to the point of insanity as it seeps into every scene, every conversation and every waking moment of his tightly regimented life. Similarly, the play opens with Ernest and Delia sharing a snack of sardines on toast in bed and tracks its impact as, gradually, this unlikely act of spontaneity takes on epic proportions: ‘I feel as if I’m sleeping on board a herring trawler.’ Time and again, Ayckbourn places a ticking comic time bomb on-stage and lets it off with perfectly timed precision.

It is a pleasure to watch these tiny shifts take over this rigid couple’s life, as initially banal details take on inestimable importance and dwarf everything in sight. This attention to seemingly insignificant details calls to mind Monty Python’s mantra – that the best comedy is about making the huge things tiny and the tiny things, monumental. This is why their ‘Flying Circus’ featured ridiculously long sketches about spam and dead parrots, alongside short skits about death, god and all the ‘big’ stuff. 

This comic philosophy – making the little things big and visa versa - underpins every plot twist and character Ayckbourn devises. Le Prevost’s Ernest is a sublime example of this comic ethos: he is a huge character stuck in a tiny situation. He is also a person that reacts big but thinks little; a retired soldier whose life has become a clockwork existence, but who still has the energy of a man in battle. It is a character rippling with comic clashes – a wonderful mixture of the banal but noble, weak but blusteringly powerful, brash but laughably delicate. All this means Le Prevost can act huge, appear ridiculous and play for the laughs, but still remain true to his character. It means his reaction to being shifted into the spare room, as he screams out indignantly – ‘I shall probably wind up with marsh fever!’ – is bloody funny but also rings true.

The younger characters’ scenes don’t spark quite so well. Their comic scenarios are less organic than Delia and Ernest’s and it starts to feel like the characters are secondary to the comedy. This is certainly the case with ever-so-giddy couple Malcolm and Kate, whose deteriorating domestic bliss is funny but also a little trite. Both actors push their performances too hard: Williams’ good girl Kate comes across as too good to be true and Betts’ transition from beaming lover to scowling husband feels fast and slightly forced. 

Weedy couple Nick and Jan slightly overplay the comedy too and Tony Gardner, in particular, edges his character over into stereotype. Gardner’s bed-ridden Nick is so utterly wimpy that, whilst he might be good for a laugh, he is laughable too - this could’ve been a much more complicated, sympathetic role if played with a little more patience. Rachel Pickup and Orlando Seale are better as the flighty young couple who set off a domino of destruction in their wake but they have any easier job, since their extravagant, dramatic characters don’t develop much throughout the piece. 

Still, Ayckbourn’s play is too cunningly constructed to fall apart because of a few shaky performances. This is an excellently crafted piece, with stellar comic couple Asher and LePrevost showing just how good it can be when played with the right combination of depth, restraint and flair. The recent production of Norman Conquests at the Old Vic contained an even deeper ensemble cast and the result was a razor-sharp, close to the bone comedy, which has proved phenomenally successful. Peter Halls’ slightly overplayed production hasn’t quite hit these heights but, even from the summit below, it still makes for damn good viewing. 

Till 28 November 2009