Wendi Peters and Robert Angell battle valiantly, but they struggle to keep afloat in a two-hander comedy that is never terribly funny.
April in Paris, first performed in 1994 when it was a nominated for a Laurence Olivier award, is a more bitter than sweet tale of a stale marriage that may - or may not - be kick-started by a romantic break in Paris. Writer and director John Godber draws a dismal picture of a dysfunctional relationship with Al as an unemployed builder, and Bet as a shoe shop assistant, both regretting 24 years of unhappy marriage.
No kids, no money, no future, plenty of bickering and back-biting. Then a competition prize – a night away sandwiched by a couple of bumpy ferry rides - that could change everything.
By the time the first half petered out - an awkward pause followed by a ripple of applause - nobody could have failed to grasp that this union was not in great shape. The point had certainly been laboured. I felt the scene had been well and truly set, and was eagerly awaiting a development after the interval - a spark of a romance, a night of passion, a humdinger of a row, a departure of some sort. I was disappointed.
