The Acid Test makes the grade

I think seeing Mad Blud a few days before Anya Reiss’ new play at the Royal Court stood me in good stead. Who knows what sharp edged trouble I might have unwittingly meandered into on the walk from South Ken to Sloane Square? That said, any potential crossfire that was avoided on the journey down, was certainly not in the hour and a half that followed.

The Acid Test, Reiss’ second play, invites us into the front room of three twenty-something girls on the night that their swirling maelstrom of lady issues is interrupted by the arrival of one of their fathers, evicted by his missus and her new beau, the roofer. Dana, a flirty blonde, is toying with the idea of sleeping with her boss, purely for professional progress and deterred seemingly only by his gingerness; the shrill and somewhat ditsy Ruth returns fresh from being dumped by her arty boyfriend; and Jess, daughter of Jim, appears more stressed by her father’s presence than anything else. Open the drinks cupboard and a lot of heart-to-hearts, DMCs and soul baring ensues.

The play does well in the breadth of issues it touches upon, even if a few sound as though they’re straight off the MiddleClassProblem twitter feed (which also comes highly recommended). It portrays to a T the frictions of parent-child relationships and the endless supply of embarrassment the former always bring when visiting their offspring – never again will I listen to Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’ without thinking of Denis Lawson, cast as Jim, grooving on down after a few neat vodkas.

But such can surely be expected from a playwright aged 19 (I refuse to go into more detail, the thought of such precocious success doesn’t help the revision go down.) Self-worth, married life, sexual desire and sometimes sexual ambivalence all come under Reiss’ magnifying glass and whilst the style is fast paced, fluid and very satisfying, the substance is a little thin. The comedy is rich, written scientifically, and the denouement draws to a tidy finish, not before a few twists. In all, she reminds me slightly of Chelsea’s own local football team – technically very good, just short of a little magic and not quite hitting the target as was the case a few years ago.

The production in general has a vitality, no doubt due in part to the lively performances from Vanessa Kirby and Phoebe Fox, the latter’s talent belied by her single line of past theatrical work. Dennis Lawson gives weight to the cast and galvanizes the comedy opposite the seemingly effortlessly sour-faced Lydia Wilson, who brings the same ice to the role as she displayed in The Heretic. The intimacy of the studio, effectively the Royal Court’s attic, is exploited to the full, rather than take down the fourth wall, they let the audience sit on and around it.

The Acid Test is a very tight work that mixes two parts home truths to one part comedy and tops it up with sheer energy and watch-ability. Serve with Dennis Lawson and promising trio of young talent and can’t you go wrong. I, for one, am keen to see what Reiss offers up next.