by Astrid Lawton

Set amongst the British upper crust in 1920s Eton and Oxford, this Fly-On-The-Wall Theatre production explores the devastating consequences of ‘the love that dare not speak its name’

Barry Lowe’s 1988 script tells the coming-of-age story of Michael Davies (Kieran McShane), adopted son of Peter Pan author James Barrie (‘Uncle Jim’, played commandingly by Ian Rooney), and inspiration for the author’s stellar work.

Whilst studying at Eton, Michael encounters the rakish Rupert Buxton (Jordan Armstrong), he of the foppish fringe and devil-may-care bonhomie, who challenges Michael emotionally and physically in a manner quite apart from his Eton chums (Matthew Werkmeister and Sean Paisley Collins).

The story moves from Eton to Paris after matriculation, where Michael reconnects with Rupert on a memorable night in a French brothel, to university at Oxford, to Uncle Jim’s house off the coast of Scotland, and back to Oxford. Each location serves to heighten the tension in the burgeoning relationship between the protagonists, in a breathless will they/won’t they manner, which finally culminates by the loch on Uncle Jim’s property.

The casting is good but with some inconsistency in strength. Armstrong’s Rupert very effectively and commendably straddles cocky assuredness and insecurity, juggling calculatedness and tenderness, and allowing fleeting glimpses of J.M. Barrie’s proverbial Lost Boy to sneak through in his portrayal. Paisley Collins as Roger Senhouse is very impressive as the flamboyant public school boy blurting out Wilde-esque witticisms which are later revealed to mask a much deeper introspection. McShane has notable moments (usually in conversation with Uncle Jim) but his depiction of Michael’s sensitivity and innocence sometimes comes across as slight sulkiness, and on occasion he struggles to maintain the character’s accent.

The set and lighting are respectively evocative and atmospheric – non-intrusive but still definite features of the production. The costumes are perfect, and the beautiful score (by Andrew Bishop) is almost a character in itself, so prevalent and memorable is its haunting presence. Director Robert Chuter debuted the production in 1989 with the same theatre company, and this restaging is a fine renaissance for a new generation.

See Timeout’ Webpage review here