Pinter’s Homecoming at the Almeida KICKED ASS


First, this isn’t going to be any kind of proper review, as I don’t want to spoil any of the fun of this show. What did I read about it? “Awesome show!” (said like a Brit). “5 stars!” So I said screw reading the review, I’m just going to buy tickets. And I’m so glad I did … and now I’m going to try to tell you why you should call the theater every day until you too can see this show.

I really didn’t know how screwed up a play could be before I saw this. It was like seeing a Coen Brothers’ movie, where everything has this air of normality, and then you suddenly go, “Hey, you can’t do that with a wood chipper!” Life just isn’t like that, but for some reason, when you’re watching people RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU saying this crazy shit, how can you argue that it’s not true and life doesn’t work like that? Because they just said it, they just did it RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR FACE. It wasn’t CGI and it wasn’t dubbed, it was THERE. You saw it. It was REAL. We laughed and shook our heads. Who were these crazy people we were watching?

And what’s extra cool is that every single character had a back story. Not “came from a troubled home” or “drinks on the sly” but rather so rich and believable that you could sit there and discuss what they were doing in grade school and what kind of mom and dad each of them had. It was like that. It was written that well. And every character was ACTED well. None of this, “Oh, I’m just a bit role, I have to a) be small b) be loud and try to steal the show.” Nope, each actor gave it 100% of what it needed to be perfect, right down to stroking their whiskey glasses with lustful intent. Never has a glass of water been drunk with such obvious … overtones.

I can’t believe this was written so long ago, especially when I think about what was contemporary at the time. Harold Pinter is god and I worship at his altar, where he sits next to Henryk Ibsen.

PS: For the record, getting back from Putney to Angel BITES. Otherwise it was a perfect night.

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