The Blackest Black review, Hampstead Theatre Downstairs

There's a moment in a row when the adrenaline kicks in and the rumbling becomes a roar. The face contorts, words tumble over themselves to come out in vituperative runs, and the air is so thick with emotion you could steam your blackheads in it. The Blackest Black is a dense fug from the off, an exercise in emotional aggression with a heroine - Abi - who is a charming but unstoppable malign force, demanding validation both verbally and physically and, when losing the battle, employing her sexuality with no regard to the consequences.

The Blackest Black is written by Jeremy Brock who wrote the scripts for The Last King of Scotland and Mrs Brown.  He likes to set himself challenges. Here we're in a space observatory in the Arizona desert.  Abi is the English artist-in-residence and, after just two weeks, is embroiled in an affair with the intense, married, astronomer, Martin. He's on the verge of a major breakthrough for which he's waited ten years. Tonight is the night. Abi, however, wants to row about feelings. Unable to distract him, she seduces his technician, Chuck, triggering a series of painful professional and personal consequences.

What does the ante matter?

Brock's characters are parallels of the binary stars Martin (John Light) is studying. In the first half he is the primary star, Chuck is his companion, and Abi (Charity Wakefield) the common centre of mass around which they revolve.  In the second, where Abi's art comes under the microscope, the stars have collided but there's no evidence of them creating a larger unit - instead, all appears to be dust. Where is Chuck (Ian Bonar), and does Martin still love his wife, or will he abandon his telescope and fix his sights no higher than Abi's rank loft?  Will we ever know, and do we care?

In conclusion: The Blackest Black successfully draws a strong response from its audience. There are some terrific lines and Michael Longhurst (who directed Constellations) keeps it busy, but the characters are overblown and unremitting. After all that darkness, one longs for just a fragment of light, but none remains in this particular firmament.

References
Hampstead Theatre, Tickets


Hampstead Theatre, Eton Avenue, London NW3 3EU.  Run ends 8 February