Art, like theatre, is a subjective beast. It is nigh on impossible to encapsulate in words why some of it ignites our imagination and affection completely, while other performances leave us totally unmoved. This 1994 piece by French playwright Yasmina Reza (translated by Christopher Hampton), is hinged on this universal truism, using it as a launch pad to explore the friendship between three men – Serge, Marc, and Yvan – all of whom have a very different response to a piece of artwork around which the action revolves. What happens when your opinions do not match those of your best friends? Is it possible to persuade others to see the beauty that only you perceive?

The tragi-comic tale unfolds in the expensive Parisian apartment owned by Serge (Chris Harper) who has just purchased the very expensive painting. The canvass is totally white, save for a few white lines. We discover that he has paid 200,000 euros for the piece about which he is quite smugly thrilled. His friend Marc (Aden Gillett), who is a tempestuous traditionalist, is horrified by the purchase and pours instant scorn on Serge for such a tasteless extravagance. “It’s a piece of white shit!” he exclaims to the clear delight of this opening night audience! The third man of the piece is their mutual pal Yvan (Seann Walsh) who tries to act as peacekeeper, always sitting firmly on the fence. He has quite enough to worry about with his upcoming wedding.

Gillett is magnificent as Marc. He drives much of the early comedy, his incredulity at his friends purchase so bluntly expressed that we cannot help but find him hilarious. He is also a brilliantly brooding presence all evening. This contrasts perfectly with Harper’s whimsical and romantic portrayal of Serge, a character study that is as powerful in its stillness as Gillett’s is in its forcefulness. Harper exudes a joie de vivre, especially in the way he moves around the stage – almost balletic. He is capable of raising a giggle from the audience with a tilt of the head or the merest gesture. He is simultaneously playful and serious. This is a very well observed character study. The highlight here for me however is the third man of the piece – Seann Walsh’s Yvan. His peace-keeping nature sees him constantly caught in the crossfire and his dawning realisation that he has very few if any strong opinions of his own is magnificently illustrated before our very eyes. Walsh delivers a fiendishly difficult monologue about the farcical nature of Yvan’s upcoming nuptials with such relish and verve, demonstrating that he’s not only a skilled comedian but a fabulous actor too. His facial expressions, often contorted in agony or mesmerised bemusement, are worth the ticket price alone. These three actors are absolutely perfect together, bringing out the subtle nuances of the relationships between the three friends and at all times totally believable in role.

The design by Ciaran Bagnall is very clever indeed – a simple set with moving pieces which help to establish the movement of the piece in terms of time and space. I love the deliciously ironic use of colour in the lighting and in the costumes (Nancy Surman), all of which serves to frame (if you’ll permit me!) the action beautifully. The direction by Iqbal Khan is pacy and the comic timing is perfect allowing for just the right amount of awkwardly tense pauses to complement the genuinely laugh out loud comedy. The simplicity of the staging and direction allows the piece to speak for itself – it is after all a play about words rather than action.

So, is this an evening of high art or is it, to twist the phrase of the evening, bland shit? Well, the answer to that is in the eye of the beholder. You’ll need to decide for yourself – which is, after all, the point of the piece. For what it’s worth, I think it’s brilliant. It delves into the nature of friendship (explored here with searing honesty) and the pretentiousness of the art world (a concept we can all get on board with). On a practical note, as plays go, it’s short and sweet – it does the job without any unnecessary padding. But more than all of that, it invites us as an audience to embrace the sometimes discomforting truth that there may be more than one way of seeing the world, and that we don’t necessarily have to agree with each other in order to get along. It’s a message that we may need to hear more than ever in our modern world. This play deserves to be seen.
Art plays at the Theatre Royal all week, until Saturday 12th October 2024.
Run time – 85 minutes (no interval)
Age guidance 12+.