This is only the second play by the admired novelist William Boyd and it suggests he still has much to learn about the robust demands of theatre. His play is shrewdly observant and intermittently funny but it lacks any striking image and, at 75 minutes, seems far more suited to an intimate space like Hampstead’s Downstairs theatre, where it started, than to a main-house stage.
Boyd’s point is that a whole set of relationships can unravel because of a simple argument. It all begins with a dispute between the married Meredith and Pip over a trashy movie (I longed to know which one) they have just seen. The row reveals the gulf between museum curator Meredith and her PR husband who, it transpires, is having an affair. We then see the ripple-effect of the initial argument in a series of duologues involving Meredith and her mum, Pip and his father-in-law and even the respective best friends of the warring twosome.
“I argue, therefore I am,” says one character and…