Festive tragi-comedy shines in its humour, but struggles to get out of first gear in its drama.
The Crumple Zone is a formerly off-Broadway dramatic comedy written by Buddy Thomas, enjoying a run in London’s Waterloo East theatre, directed by Helen Bang. The play occurs solely in the flat of Terry (James Grimm), Alex (Jonny Davidson), and his ‘away touring’ wife Sam (Sinead Donnelly). In Sam’s absence, Alex has been having an affair with Buck (James Mackay), that Terry has been forced to watch in close quarters. Whilst grappling with the conflict of how to act as his best friend is cheated on by her husband, Terry also grapples with his own life; bereft of love, and affection, and resorts to bringing home an unusual pushy stranger called Roger (Nicholas Gauci) for a one night stand.
From a comedic perspective, the play triumphs as its dense script is executed flawlessly. Grimm sets a high standard from his sharp, snappy delivery of Terry’s verbose sassy wit – the source of the majority of the show’s humour. But the whole cast had excellent chemistry on stage together, which led to the back and forth jovial bickers between characters always hitting the mark.
In its more serious moments, the play and cast do suitably capture the agony and irony of trauma and tears whilst in a room draped in tinsel and other cheap festive paraphernalia, a wonky Christmas tree, and remnants of alcoholic drinks scattered around.
Much of the play is spent dwelling on the morally reprehensible behaviour of Alex and Buck’s infidelity. The play never truly condemns this, aside from the sneers and comments of Terry. It tries and fails to truly establish the depth of conflict in Alex’s mind. Perhaps because there was no real conflict at all – but again, this could have been developed further.
The moments of moral exploration are where the script feels shallow. Alex offers up clichés such as ‘you don’t understand’ over and over again, meaning Davidson’s portrayal of angst comes across simplistic. Similarly, Mackkay’s Buck morphs into a cheap villain at the climax, and again the opportunity for complexity felt limited by the script.
Upon her return, the character of Sam is meek and spineless, and Donnelly plays her like a thrice-kicked puppy, unboxed and abandoned on Christmas day. The play ends just as a glimmer of recovery emerges, and Terry and Sam resolve to go visit Terry’s mother on Christmas day. The final moments are both beautiful and bleak. You crave more to the story, you want growth. It’s as though you’ve merely watched the pilot for a new sitcom about how Sam and Terry put their lives together again. I know I’d watch that.