Entertaining Mr Sloane

Entertaining Mr Sloane

Tamzin Outhwaite shines with a performance of fragile brilliance

On entering the auditorium, we are met with a raised circular stage arranged in a theatre-in-the-round configuration, with just one entrance platform. The overall effect is striking: everything is painted in a washed-out grey, save for a classic floral carpet that draws the eye. Suspended above the stage are cots, ironing boards, chairs, and birdcages. These hang throughout, casting intriguing shadows. At first, I expected them to come crashing down dramatically at some point, but they remained aloft for the duration. Set and costume designer Peter McKintosh has crafted an atmosphere that is simultaneously bleak and evocative.

The story follows Mr Sloane as he takes up lodgings with Kath, her father Kemp, and her brother Ed, who drifts in and out. The play begins with some of the usual “lodger jokes” and double entendres. Early on we discover that Sloane is an orphan, while Kath has had to give up her child. For a moment, one might fear this revelation would shape the narrative, but the timeline made it impossible, and thankfully the play did not tread down that route.

At the core of the production lies the acting, which is often superb. Tamzin Outhwaite as Kath is a revelation. She brings a fragile vulnerability to the role, interspersed with moments of flirtation and sly humour. Her portrayal balances the tragic with the comic, making Kath sympathetic while also deeply unsettling. The recurring “mummy” and “baby” exchanges between Kath and Sloane are intentionally uncomfortable, hinting at her instability and loneliness rather than predatory tendencies.

Ed, played by Daniel Cerqueira, provides another strong performance. He is clearly the powerhouse of the family, boasting of his car, hotels, and steady employment. There is a subplot regarding legal papers and Kemp’s signature that is curiously brushed aside here, though it plays a larger role in Orton’s original. One of the more intriguing choices is Ed’s constant handling of a cigarette that he never smokes, perhaps symbolising his performance of a masculinity he doesn’t fully inhabit. Sexuality pulses beneath his every move. His interest in Sloane is made obvious when he offers him employment as a chauffeur, complete with a uniform. This production opts for a leather ensemble; trousers, vest, and flat cap an overt nod to the Village People. Later, Sloane makes explicit what Ed truly desires, and they strike a bargain.

After the interval, the stage itself had rotated. This was puzzling, as it didn’t alter any of the audience’s sightlines, but it did effectively shift the position of the room’s door while the entrance platform remained fixed. In practice, the change served little dramatic purpose and, in fact, undercut what could have been a surprising reveal later on. From here, the production also began to feel increasingly disjointed.

Sloane reappears dancing to 1990s Kylie Minogue, manipulated by Kath and Ed as though in a nightclub. The sudden leap forward in time jars against the 1960s world so carefully established. Many of these discordant moments centre on Jordan Stephens in the title role. Making his stage debut, Stephens brings energy but often seems miscast. In his mid-thirties, with visible tattoos (he is topless a lot) he doesn’t convincingly embody the youthful, attractive lodger imagined by Orton in the 60s. Certain adaptation choices such as the leather uniform and a false teeth gag only emphasise the departure from the original. Added to this were staging decisions that felt misplaced: Stephens trapped in a green light performing slow-motion anguish, or the Kylie dance sequence, gave the impression of a time traveller who had wandered in from another production.

I have never felt compelled to mention race in a review before, but here it seems unavoidable. The script contains frequent instances where Ed calls Sloane “boy.” In Orton’s original context, Sloane’s youth made this plausible. In this production, with an older actor in the role, the term takes on uncomfortable racial connotations that were not addressed. With other liberties already taken, why not replace the word with “lad” or “kid”?

By the end, I was left unsure who was manipulating whom. In Orton’s writing, it is Sloane who twists the morals of those around him. Here, Kath and Ed appear to hold more of the power, striking a deal to share him as though he were an object. The play’s atmosphere, set design, and performances should have delivered a darkly comic triumph. Instead, the combination of an uncredited adaptation and Nadia Fall’s direction left me somewhat dissatisfied. The elements were there; smoke hanging in the air, shadowy props overhead, and committed acting but cohesion and fidelity to Orton’s vision seemed to drift away.

Photo credit Ellie Kurttz