Obsession review, Barbican

Obsession filled me with obsessive longing within minutes of starting, and it wasn't a longing to rip off Jude Law's clothes. That said, he ripped them off for us. But kept his draws on, which was a shame,  because proceedings badly needed a lift. The decision to give the cast personal microphones meant Law had a large piece of tape flapping on his back. It looked like his skin was coming off. Or maybe it was crawling? For a man who moves like a panther - his moves are truly great - how terrible to play opposite a female lead who cannot match your sensuality and sexuality. Law was like a character out of Tennessee Williams. His woman - the object of his Obsession - was from Honk!

To add to the sense of disconnect, Obsession is written in kindergarten English. There is no nuance, no depth, no sophistication. The lovers, who barely know each other, kill the jealous husband who stands between them. Events start sprialling out of control. As if this theatrical dog's breakfast needed any extra ingredients... The story is laughable. The characterisation barely makes the third dimension. The secondary characters have no meaning at all. Director, Ivo van Hove, who conceived the play, fills the gaps in the dramatic vacuum with sudden strangulations and tit-flashes. He plays music at top volume over dialogue and car crashes. And Jude Law running away on a treadmill (sic). There is a constant clash, rather than blend, of the theatrical with the cinematic.

Mr Van Hove is the director de jour, perhaps with reason, but it feels a bit Emperor's New Clothes. I have only seen one of his previous productions, the David Bowie jukebox drama Lazarus. Like Obsession, the emotion in Lazarus was mapped rather than expressed or explored. The result was robotic: Tech 4.0 comes to the London stage. My response was to give away my ticket to Van Hove's Hedda Gabler. I didn't want to risk falling out of love with its star, the wondrous Ruth Wilson. Tonight, in order not to fall out of love with Jude Law, I shall go to sleep remembering his superb 2009 Hamlet. 

In conclusion: Unlike the clever punters who fled early, I waited obsessively to exit at the interval. There wasn't one. The piece runs without a break. We were literally a captive audience. There is still one performance of Obsession before the First Night. It's too late now to work on characterisation and dramaturgy, but perhaps a few lines of context would help?


Obsession runs to May 20 at the Barbican Theatre, Barbican Centre, London EC2Y 8DS

Picture taken from The Stage