After walking around London all day yesterday, I finally got PY, an American colleague, and my tickets to The Woman Who Cooked Her Husband. It’s at the New Ambassadors Theatre, an intimate and interesting venue. It stars Alison Steadman and Daisy Donovan.
It’s a three-headed almost-farce-like comedy (I was waiting for a Vicar and no trousers), and it’s only mediocre. Firstly, the title gives the game away. Secondly, the story is too weak to carry for ninety minutes, and thirdly, sadly, some of the acting isn’t great. There’s an old adage that everyone’s a critic, and at £32 a ticket, I think I bloody well deserve to be. Daisy Donovan, who I find hilarious on television, seemed out of place – although maybe that was just me, as reviewers seem to think she handled herself well. However, when the main comedic thrust of her role was the comedy dancing – which might work on TV but looks very strange on the stage – I didn’t think she stood a chance. I imagine Alison Steadman did her best, but the material just wasn’t up to it. It didn’t give Daisy Donovan anything to make her West End debut with, and it didn’t give Alison Steadman anything to get her teeth into. This review says all this in a much more articulate way.
Still, despite its shortcomings, it was an OK evening. Middle-aged couples and pairs of gay men. There is something faintly disturbing about that mix. And, perhaps, one should always remember that food is as important as sex.