Clybourne Park, Richmond Theatre review ★★★★★

The first act presents a classic platform for liberal complacency. A couple leaves a neighbourhood under a cloud and sells their house to a black family; discord erupts. So far, so predictable: of course, what a tragedy, how far we've come!

But then, after the interval, the action moves forward fifty years, and history repeats itself as a punchy, irreverent farce.

The script sets a high standard and the predominately British cast, though able, often falls short of its demands. The American accents are consistent enough, but the pressure of sustaining them throughout a very talky two and a half hours clearly takes a lot of effort.

The last word before an interruption is routinely overemphasised, a mistake few professionals make when they aren't distracted by their dialect work. This slightly faux feeling permeates the first half, and uninspired blocking and stagey set design make the whole thing feel like a low budget sitcom (albeit one with Arthur Miller on the writing staff).

These problems fade in the second half, especially when the temperature rises. Ben Deery and Gloria Onitri give chimera performances, mannered and buttoned-up in the sixties and gloriously, offensively unleashed in the present day. The whole ensemble seems more relaxed in their 21st century roles.

By the crescendo, everything is perfect – the big laughs and gasps all land well. Though the production isn't perfect, we're lucky to have this play back in London for a few days.