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Primavera in association with Neil McPherson for the JINGO: A Farce of War
Finborough Theatre
26 March – 19 April 2008
A review bySimon Clancy for EXTRA! EXTRA!
War-time comedies are rarely subtle: their underlying subject matter, after all, is far too grim and serious to bear close examination, while the sub-genre’s inclination for ludicrous stereotypes, overly familiar settings, and wacky caricatures is well-known. Still, it’s probably best that way, seeing how the alternative, in this case embodied by Jingo: A Farce of War, can wind up leaving an audience mindnumbingly lodged somewhere between polite laughter and an awkward silence. I guess what I’m trying to say is that the Finborough’s latest revival does most things by halves and, unfortunately, fails because of it. Set mainly in the Singaporean bedroom of English socialite Gwendoline (Susannah Harker) in the dark days before the Japanese took control of the island nation from the Brits during World War II, the show centres on a love-triangle, or, well, what eventually becomes a love-quadrangle between Gwendoline herself, current husband George (Peter Sandys-Clarke), ex-husband Ian (Anthony Howell), and an ageing, horny brigadier by the name of Percy (Paul Mooney). Suffice it to say, the characters in question are drawn through the relatively trivial workings of lust, love, and companionship as the British Empire crumbles around them. Perhaps the reason Jingo struggles so much is Charles Wood’s dated 1975 script, which is both painfully lewd and, by today’s standards, unoriginal. Wood’s seems irrevocably torn between outright farce and making a grand statement on the ills of war, but in his desire to tick all the boxes, ends up splicing some solemn moments side by side with a juvenile, on-the-nose sort of humour. It is often too great a leap and leads to some awkward moments such as when Percy begs Gwendoline to “thrash him” before the glamorous object of his affection swiftly spanks the brigadier with a bedroom brush right on the tush. At this point, the audience descends into silence, knowing this particularly cringeworthy display is designed to make them laugh but has been seen about a zillion times before and usually in a more a humorous context. Although Gwendoline, George, Ian and Percy are all characters you would expect to find in a farce, it is also to the writer’s detriment that it is the timing and energetic performances of the actors which drag any interest out of some patronising generalisations. Lines explaining that the Japanese “all wear glasses, don’t they?” or that servant Wong Swee is a “superior sort of chink” just aren’t funny anymore, but you must give credit to Sandys-Clarke, Howell, Mooney and especially Susannah Harker for attacking the script with such vim and vigour. The show also redeems itself somewhat in its authentic-looking costumes, a quaint yet thought-provoking set, and a fitting soundtrack. But I would say there is a reason Jingo: A Farce of War has remained unperformed since its 1975 RSC premiere: hopefully, the world has moved on.
Finborough Theatre The Finborough,
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