Farce might appear one of the lighter forms of theatre, but it is notoriously difficult to execute well. It relies on precision, pace and an unwavering commitment to chaos, and British theatre has a proud tradition of doing it brilliantly. Mention the genre and the name Ray Cooney usually springs to mind. His son, Michael Cooney, continues that lineage with Cash on Delivery, a play that shows all the hallmarks of its heritage, even if time has not always been kind to it.
Although written in the nineties, the play feels older, almost as if it has stepped straight out of the seventies. Its premise, centred on a web of fraudulent benefit claims, is rooted firmly in a pre internet era when such schemes could plausibly remain undetected.
The humour leans into that older sensibility too. Watching the audience only highlighted this. Some patrons were loudly delighted, while younger theatregoers looked less enraptured. It was a reminder that comedy ages much faster than drama and that some jokes depend on a shared cultural context that moves on.
The plot follows Eric Swan, who lost his job two years ago and never told his wife, Linda. Instead, he has fabricated a string of social security claims to keep the household afloat, with the help of his Uncle George and at the expense of both current lodger Norman Bassett and numerous imaginary ones. When Norman’s impending marriage triggers Eric to try and untangle his own lies, a parade of officials descends upon the house.
Linda, meanwhile, summons Doctor Chapman due to confusion caused by yet another of Eric’s questionable schemes. The result is a whirl of misunderstandings, rapid reversals and increasingly improbable explanations, all familiar but satisfying hallmarks of farce.
Where this production struggles is not in the script but in the ensemble’s grasp of the style. Ron Aldridge directs a company that largely appeared in All in the Family last year, yet some performers seem less attuned to the pace and breathless commitment farce demands. Steven Pinder’s Eric feels slightly underpowered and the manic energy required to keep the plates spinning does not always materialise. When the rhythm falters in farce, the entire sequence can lose its buoyancy, and that occasionally happens here.
That said, several cast members rise above the material. James Bradshaw is consistently hilarious as Norman Bassett, navigating confusion and panic with sharp comic instinct. Oscar Cleaver brings a wonderfully gormless charm to Doctor Chapman and Felicity Duncan makes Ms Cowper both formidable and very funny. These performances hint at the show this production could be with a tighter ensemble approach.
As always at The Mill at Sonning, the staging is first rate. Alex Marker’s set is cleverly constructed and provides exactly the right environment for doors to slam and secrets to spill. The design grounds the production even when the energy wavers.
Ultimately, Cash on Delivery may prove to be Marmite. Those who appreciate the craftsmanship of classic farce will find plenty to enjoy, even if its sensibilities feel dated. It is a well written play, imperfectly delivered, but still capable of raising a smile.
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