★★
Marianne Badrichani’s quintessentially English adaptation of Fefe de Broadway, French Toast, is a whirlwind of 70s theatre, metadrama, and romance. When esteemed French actress, Jacqueline Brémont (Edith Vernes), slithers into a leading role, a bizarrely British French farce ensues. Sadly, what could have been a marvellously British and French play is somehow over-written and half-baked.
Brémont threatens to pull her investment from a play directed by her ex, Simon Monk (Ché Walker). He has no choice but to cast her in an ill-fitting role. Unable to sing, an inept dancer, and a seasoned meddler, Brémont consumes the play within a play as her own. As gigs become scarce for the French icon, Brémont puts her last hopes in a comical revamp of Racine’s Phédre, far from the glamour of the West End (Basingstoke).
Brémont and Monk’s rivalry is an exasperating battle of egos. Monk loathes having Brémont ruin his masterpiece while Brémont insists on shoehorning herself into a production that does not fit. All the while Monk insists this role is the “wrong vehicle of her talents.” Their painful past together stokes their animosity towards each other, dragging the rest of their quirky entourage into the mayhem. The makings of a great comedy are clearly there. Despite an unremarkable beginning, the pace picked up and did fit in some truly hilarious cracks.
Like the natural sparring of siblings, French Toast is littered with cultural banter. Between the self-deprecating and passive-aggressive English and the assertive, albeit pompous French characters, there is much to learn from each other. Brémont teaches the other actresses to stand up for themselves, because “great people accept conflict.” The supporting characters brought some much-needed chemistry to the rehearsal space. Faye Rose (Josie Benson) is a timid actress whose age has rendered her invisible in the theatre world. The unlikely spark between punk rocker Nicky Butler (Reece Richarson) and Kate Freeman (Suzy Kohane) was sweet and sensitive but compensated for the lack thereof between Walker and Vernes.
The play’s leads had no chemistry. This emotional vacuum can be chalked up to Walker’s tendency to over-act. Walker’s bombastic gestures and screeches neglect the underlying affection for Brémont that Monk has hidden for over a decade.
Geoffrey Blythe (Paul Hegarty) is a slightly camp showbiz creep and a symbol of the 70s. Even in some of the most desperate lulls, Hegarty could light up the room with his failed artistry and physical gags. However, despite Hegarty’s humour and variety-show levity, there is only so much he can do to fend off outdated writing. The relentless perving and pinching of the other actresses falls flat. Well past the wake of the #MeToo movement, Sam Alexander’s adaptation should have left the gags of the backstage sex pest in 1977.
The forced transition into a romantic comedy and an abrupt ending betrays a few too many shortcuts in the writing of French Toast. The classic pairing off of the characters through a last-minute misunderstanding kills the play before its climax. French Toast leaves much to be desired as a pedestrian start makes way for a promising middle, only to end just as it hits its stride.
French Toast will be performed at Riverside Studios until 26 October.
Words by Elizabeth Sorrell
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