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Phil Willmott

Review: RED at the Wyndham’s Theatre

We knew John Logan’s play for two actors, RED, was a fine piece of writing when it was premiered at the Donmar Warehouse in 2009 and went on to win Tony awards for many involved. However given the chance to see it again in a revival of Michael Grandage's delicious original production it’s apparent that it’s more than that. It’s rather brilliant.

Red - Wyndham's Theatre Alfred Molina and Alfred Enoch in Red. Photo by Johan Persson.

Using an admirable economy of words and brevity of action (the whole thing is done and dusted in an interval-less 90 minutes) Logan explores the nature of art, genius and mentorship.

The setting is painter Mark Rothko’s New York studio in 1958. Although it could be anywhere because the self-proclaimed genius, and tortured artist has blacked out the windows and often has classical music pumping out for inspiration in order to maintain the ambiance he considers perfect for his creativity.

On this occasion he has been commissioned to create lucrative murals for a high class restaurant. It's an honour whilst at the same time demeaning for the great man to be considering his painting as a backdrop for rich and powerful diners. Breaking in on his glowering self-doubt and resentment is a young assistant and we watch scenes from his two years at the mercy of his bullying, exacting employer.

It's a simple plot construct, the master moulding the pupil, but in this case it allows for the playwright to interpret the mindset of a great thinker (Rothko) as he unburdens his frustrations on to his assistant (Ken).

If that sounds like the 90 minutes will be very wordy, it is. But the production is also alive to the beauty of movement in the artist’s studio as great canvases are hauled up and down on to the paint frame, which rotates and trucks up and down like some massive sail, accompanied by composer Adam Cork’s stirring, beautifully judged music.

There’s also a terrific movement section when, in silence, both men pour enormous passion into painting a big canvas red, side by side, their movements falling into sync as the speed and intensity of their brush strokes build to a climax before they fall back, in Ken's case breathlessly, and light a cigarette that seems positively post coital.

The role of Mark Rothko fits Alfred Molina like a glove, as it should do, he’s been living with it since he first played the artist nearly a decade ago, and he completely inhabits the rage, bluster and bewilderment of an uncompromising artist obliged to dumb down. Young Alfred Enoch plays opposite him as Ken, a role originated by Eddie Redmayne. Enoch is less spiky, much more eager to please then his predecessor, which make his moments of defiance all the more powerful.

This is top-notch West End fare, don’t miss Molina’s career defining performance in Logan’s fascinating play.

Red Tickets