The Bush Theatre rarely reflects right now - instead, it is a space in which near-possible futures are explored or the present re-imagined. It is a space which, despite its limitations (it’s pretty small), adapts with curious ease to the peculiar demands of each new play; it is always exciting to turn that tiny stairwell and see what’s been conjured up this time, how the space has transformed.

For James Graham’s The Whisky Taster the floor has turned translucent, with a visible network of wires running above and beneath the stage. Surrounding this is an abstract metal framework, marking the boundaries of the advertising agency in which Graham’s play is set. The Whisky Taster takes place sometime just ahead of now and, in typical Bush Theatre fashion, has a big twist: the protagonist is a young advertising exec called Barney - a sensitive chap who can ‘feel and think in colour’.

It is a clever concept around which to construct a play. Barney’s gift is a useful metaphor – a neat way to explore the deadening, homogenising effect of life in the fast lane. Is it that Barney sees in colour, or that everyone else has submitted to a life made up of grey, black and white? Is Barney gifted or is everyone else blind?

This concept has also inspired a smart set from designer Lucy Osbourne: the wires running above and beneath the stage light up sporadically, whenever someone or something causes a flash of colour to bolt through Barney. It is a concept that draws the protagonist and stage together - whatever Barney thinks or feels, the stage reflects – and has the potential to create a volatile and revealing space in which to perform. 

Yet, for a high-concept piece like this to work it needs to be believable: the ‘twist’ (Barney’s gift) needs to be sustained and consistent throughout the play, the roles played with utter conviction. The writer and director also need to create a world in which this twist makes sense. Yet, instead of committing to this concept and the heightened reality it demands, the production fades in and out of different realities and the concept is never properly nailed down.

This focal concept - Barney’s ability to think and feel in colour at the slightest sensory provocation - is presumably an ongoing one, yet it only kicks into life when the play requires it. So, when Barney is called on to taste some whisky as preparation for an upcoming pitch, the wires on stage explode and pulse with the colours blazing through Barney’s head. It looks great and feels interesting – but why are there not more moments like this? Surely every whiff, every unexpected event or stimulation, would provoke such an explosion of colour?

This could’ve been an interesting, delicate way for the audience to connect with the character; for us to gradually realise the significance of colour on-stage, to understand that the tiny details in colour correlate with shifts in Barney’s feelings; to appreciate, for instance, that a flash of white (revealed to be the colour of love in a delicate little monologue) is somehow connected to Barney’s love for his co-worker Nicola. It feels like a waste not to use this concept properly and rigorously, since it could’ve been a neat way to develop a character sensually rather than vocally. 

Samuel Barnett as Spider Man-esque Barney is suitably soft and sensitive, but his role is mainly there to channel his gift, rather than the gift being used to explore the role. It doesn’t help that the plot feels spurious – a rack on which to hang the big idea – which means the central relationship between Barney and colleague Nicola is a thin, vaguely built up affair. Kate O’Flynn, as love interest Nicola, pushes slightly too hard for ‘kooky’ and her performance, though nicely wired and neurotic, feels brittle. Simon Merrells as David Brent stylee boss Malcolm is a large, enthusiastic performer but he seems more aware of the audience than anyone or anything on-stage.

John Stahl – an actor who has worked a lot at The Globe and is perhaps a notch too thundering for the Bush space – has a tough task playing the Whisky Taster since, again, the world created on-stage is not heightened or strange enough to contain his character. Wearing a fierce, loud kilt and boasting a spectacular beard with a force of its own, Stahl neither fits into the play nor sits comfortably outside of it and his grand philosophising begins to grate. 

There are enough sparks for a striking play here and even if it hasn’t fired into life, there’s enough fresh dialogue and stimulating, shimmering visuals to keep one engaged. It’d be wonderful to see these types of plays at The Bush go one step further – to not only imagine a fantasy, but to make that fantasy a believable reality on-stage.

Till 20 February 2010