Laugh and lament

As expected (and planned, by writer Rosalind Butler), this instantly creates a mood of awkwardness, which is the base from which everything else kicks off.

Once the context is established, though, An Unromantic Comedy feels curiously real. The basis for this is Butler’s terrific writing – creating dialogue that flows this well while still being belly-achingly funny is a wonderful gift. Small details make big differences: when Rachel mentions a team-building exercise her company hosted, laughs begin to emerge because of the cliched absurdity of such events in real life. But when she mentions that it was held in Polokwane, the gag just sounds funnier. It’s a subtle detail, but it has impact.

Other aspects of the play are less subtle. Charmaine Weir-Smith’s (pictured, with Antony Coleman) performance as the betrayed bride-to-be is sharp, jittery and immensely funny. As a member of the production’s first cast, she sets a standard that’s unlikely to be matched if (or hopefully when) the piece is picked up by international producers – it’s a universal theme, and just a few South African references would need altering for easy translation.

Rachel’s chemistry with Tony (Coleman) is convincing, not surprising when you consider that Weir-Smith and Coleman played a TV couple for a long time, and have also co-starred in other plays. It’s this easy-to-believe connection, and the natural delivery of dialogue that makes sense and never gets overly dramatic, that gets the audience involved in the onstage action. And it’s the trim, acute script that makes you giggle and guffaw and, just occasionally consider empathy, before someone on stage does something to change your mind.

Jaci de Villiers, as the situation’s third wheel, is a solid foil, connecting different aspects of the narrative deftly in her brief scenes.