There is still life in Ben Hecht and Charles MacArthur's 1928 classic about Chicago newspapermen, as Sam Mendes's Donmar production proved a few years ago. But it is barely discernible in this production, which has all the energy of a sick dog waiting to be put out of its misery. It so lacks farcical momentum, and so seldom succeeds in wagging the comic tail, that you begin to wonder whether the play is supposed to be funny at all. Jokes should rise to its surface as reflections of the newspapermen's misogynist, tabloid mentality and the period's attitude towards women; here, however, they are simply one-liners: gross, sexist, tiresome, dumb.
When Hildy Johnson, a reporter on the Tribune, resigns so he can get married and work in advertising, his boss, the ruthless editor Walter Burns, is furious to be losing his best man. Unfortunately for Johnson, the night of his resignation coincides with the escape from jail of Earl Williams, who is due to be hanged in the morning for the murder of a black policeman.
Williams's death is crucial to the corrupt and conniving mayor and sheriff, who are facing an election and depending on the black vote to win. A journalist through and through, it is no contest when Hildy is caught between the demands of his fiancee and his editor. Particularly when Hildy finds himself with what appears to be the scoop of a lifetime.
Some things never change: Hecht and MacArthur's play could have been written yesterday, such is its beady-eyed cynicism about political sleaze and journalistic ethics. But the satire is never sharp or savage enough in Douglas Wager's production. Hecht and MacArthur set directors another challenge, by taking their time to construct their complex scenario; Wager, though, never rises to it.
This is a potentially terrific ensemble piece with some great character cameos and star turns. But Adrian Lukis is too genial as Hildy, Michael Pennington not nearly nasty enough as Burns, and the two fail to spark off each other or suggest the intensity of their love/hate relationship. As for the rest of the cast, neither journalism nor politics has ever had such a role call of grey men.
Until July 13. Box office: 01243 781312.
