This was an amateur dramatic production, so I shan’t be too critical . . . but two of the actors were so much better than the other four that it was like watching two plays at the same time.
I’m not even sure it was such a good play anyway. It’s a fine conceit having a titular character who – like Godot – never appears, but here I thought the absence of the dying Riley left an unfilled rather than an enigmatic gap. He was obviously someone it was a joy to be with and impossible to live with, but the wooden acting didn’t put this across well enough. Perhaps I don’t find Ayckbourn’s dialogue and joyless marriages as amusing as I once did.
The interval ice cream was good, though.