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Promise never quite fulfilled
Chin-Chin Malvern Theatres *** THE ORIGINAL
play Tchin-Tchin
by François Billetdoux was first performed in Montparnasse in 1959. The
production starring Celia Johnson and Anthony Quayle was a massive
Broadway and West End hit and the play has been translated into 19
languages. Although it was allegedly written to promote the
playwright’s Christian moral doctrine of renouncing material possessions
and riches, most audiences at the time saw the play as blasphemous,
perhaps because of the odd relationships and antisocial behaviour
portrayed. Chin-Chin may, I feel, be similarly
misconstrued by modern audiences, as despite being billed as a
bittersweet comedy I found the story and characters far more bitter than
sweet, and decidedly more tragic than comic. Set in 1950s Paris, Chin-Chin stars two of
Britain’s most loved and highly regarded actors, Felicity Kendal and
Simon Callow. It is produced by Bill Kenwright and directed by Michael
Rudman, who is apparently Kendall’s ex-husband and current
partner. Both Kenwright’s and Rudman’s work and successes span decades,
and the television, stage and film roles of Kendall (The Good Life,
Rosemary and Thyme, The Mistress) and Callow (Four
Weddings and a Funeral, Shakespeare in Love, Waiting For
Godot) are varied and impressive, which of course leads the audience
to expect great things. However, this play did not quite deliver, and
although all of the actors put in fine performances, as a whole the
piece seemed oddly devoid of emotion or depth. The play begins with Paméla Pusey-Picq (Kendall)
and Cesareo Grimaldi (Callow) meeting surreptitiously in a tea-room on a
winter’s afternoon. We find that they have been jilted by their
spouses and have decided to meet up to discuss the situation, or as
Paméla hopes, to rectify things somehow. She seems perfectly English –
controlled and balanced – and believes that together they can hatch a
plan to get their partners back.
In contrast, the passionate Cesareo is a whisky
quaffing Italian who wavers between desperation and resignation at his
plight. Bound together by these unusual circumstances, the two keep up
regular meetings, and Paméla soon succumbs to Cesareo’s oft
proffered alcohol, and loses her self-control, becoming more distressed
and openly miserable as the play goes on. Michael Taylor’s set deserves a mention as scene
changes for the most part went smoothly and the stage was convincingly
transformed from tea-room to apartment to Paris street with a very
pleasing rotating section which only once got jammed leaving Paméla’s
son Bobby (played by a remarkably unflustered Joshua Dickinson) pacing
Cesareo’s office for rather longer than anticipated. Again, I found the mother-son relationship very
cold, and as Cesareo pointed out, it may well have been Paméla’s seeming
coolness which drove her husband into another woman’s arms. We certainly
see her as needy and neurotic, and despite her continual talk of love
and devotion to her husband, and her obvious physical charms, she does
not strike one as an appealing character or an easy to live with wife. Similarly, Cesareo’s passion starts to feel like
nothing more than posturing when later on in the play, Paméla is begging
him for a reaction or emotion and he seems to have nothing to offer. The
affection between characters never came across as particularly genuine,
and even in their moments of despair and sorrow I felt that I did not
truly care about the characters or what became of them, and for me any
work of art, any play, any book, any poem can only be said to be
successful or worthy or great if it makes its audience care. My favourite line from the play was Cesareo’s,
‘When I’m lost for words, I can’t stop talking,’ which does sum him (and
the play) up nicely, and credit must go to Callow for keeping up the
Italian accent throughout. I personally prefer to see him in more
serious roles, however, and I feel that this production did not let
either of the main actors show their potential, which they have proven
to us on many occasions. A little disappointing then overall, and for a
play about relationships and marriage and love it seemed markedly devoid
of sincere emotion. Moral messages may have been lost on me, but I found
the ending bizarrely disturbing. Perhaps it was a warning of the evils
of alcohol, but I’m afraid it merely left me in need of some cheerier
entertainment, and a very stiff drink. Chin-Chin runs at Malvern Theatres until 16-11-13
and then moves on to Cheltenham, Cardiff and Truro. Amy Rainbow
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