Oh my God, I can't not believe what a sheer MASTERPIECE (and I use the term correctly) the stunning new West End production of BLACK PUDDING is. It is sheerly and truly a masterpiece of the most purest kind, almost desicatted in its milieu and aspirancy. That fine thesp Robin Allham plays a mid-50s man who lives in what looks like a big white room with lots of rubbish cleverly spread everywhere (take a bow, Eastern European designer Orgula Ngkschtt). Into his sad batty old life comes nymphet and parvenu (note to self, check dictionary) Hattie (played by the skittish actrine Khloe June) . It transpires - in a deliciously dull threnody that occupies the full running time - that they know each other.
A truly fascinating evening's entertainment with a stunning coup-de-fordcortina at the climax, when the walls of the theatre quite litrally rise up, to reveal a totally diffrent set. A final dance de mort as the protagonists punch each other in the gizzards sets the seal for what has been - as I'm sure the crtics will atttest - an awesomely somnambulistical exercise in what I like to call Dead Theatre (a la Peter Brook, my hero).
Go see. Then go see it again. Then and only then - react (inwardly). You won't regret it.
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