Roxana Silbert’s production has the allure of a contained and bewildered Stockard Channing and Rebecca Night, resolute and bleak as the daughter. The price of [the piece's] explicitness is a sluggish pace.
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Stockard Channing is hurting and hurtful in the revival of Marsha Norman's piercing 1983 drama...Norman’s humour is always coruscating, even when its effect is lacerating.
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I just wish I could be more enthusiastic about the show. It’s admirable that Channing traversed the Atlantic to star in a play that’s hardly awards-bait. It’s an almighty subject. But the treatment here is numbing, verging on dull.
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This basic lack of detail and texture in the writing, is compounded by the unreality of the production itself. The performances too hit one note and stay there for the course of 80-minutes.
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The show is efficiently staged by Roxana Silbert. Designer Ti Green aptly gives us a realistic 80s parlour. Rebecca Night is impressive. And Stockard Channing is here in London ... for some of us, that’s almost worth the price of admission alone.
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Stockard Channing ... gives a charismatic performance [but] her emotional range is hemmed in by the sedate, discursive tone of the production. Powerful moments arise but the play does not have the devastating effect it should.
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