Review: Blue/Orange (Greenwich Theatre)

Review by Sam Waite

⭐️⭐️

Times change, and a “state of the nation play,” as Joe Penhall’s Blue/Orange has been frequently called, must change with them. A quarter-century after the show’s debut, Penhall has returned to adapt his work, principally changing one of the trio of characters to reflect the NHS and with the intention of enriching the themes. Helmed at Greenwich Theatre by James Haddrell, the question, of course, is whether the themes come through as effectively as in past iterations.

Blue/Orange is set within a consultation room at a London hospital, where a doctor early in their specialist registrar training has invited their supervising consultant to sit in on a session with Christopher, a patient coming to the end of a section 2 hold, under which he has been admitted for 27 of the 28 allowed days. Rubina has concerns about Christopher’s mental health, suspecting that his diagnosis of borderline personality disorder is incorrect, and that he may benefit from further time to assess him for schizophrenia. Robert, the supervising consultant, feels outpatient treatment will be sufficient, and that they can’t afford to have the bed continually occupied.

Rubina, played by Rhianne Barreto, represents the key change for this production, having appeared in previous runs as a white man, Bruce. Yes, this does reflect more accurately the makeup of the NHS, particularly at a subordinate level – in fact, this effect comes across more strongly from Robert’s being the only white man on stage, and of course in the position of highest power. With Robert’s ongoing study of mental health diagnoses and treatment in “minority communities,” and especially of Black patients, his efforts to steal Christopher away from Rubina as a patient is given new touches of insidiousness by this change, though I don’t know that it changed all that much on paper.

Jana Lakatos’ set is suitable sterile and devoid of personality, though of course intentionally so, with Henry Slater’s lighting – in shades of blue and orange, naturally – allowing some of the text’s emotions to seep into the visuals. Haddrell positions the imagined entrance to the room nearer one end, furthest from where actors enter the stage, leaving us to imagine an equally soulless corridor as characters approach the space, and for the audience to continue watching them once they’ve exited the scene proper. Once or twice, there are moments where this adds to the strain of an exit, but more often than not it simply leaves an actor far too visible for far too long.

Without a firm protagonist, each of the characters bearing obvious faults and behaving needlessly cruelly to one another, the director is tasked with making us care about them regardless of their shortcomings. In this production, no one comes across as being backed as the hero, which seems a more than fitting choice, but the direction can be so muddied, the intentions of movement and delivery so unclear, that it can be hard to see any reason to be concerned with the doctors in particular. Scenes without Christopher tend to drag, particularly when he exits mid-way through the first act. The more narratively-dynamic second act fares better, but whether an issue with the production or the play no longer being as provocative as it once was, the plot still seems to take far too long to move very little.

Christopher’s actor, Matthew Morrison, also gives the strongest performance. With a jittery quality that broadens as the character becomes more overwhelmed and frustrated, Morrison is convincingly unsure of his own decisions, and it becomes believable that his choice on whether or not to leave is easily swayed more than once. Opposite him, co-stars John Michie and Rhianne Barreto offer more grounded, but also far less exciting work. Michie carries his part with enough sleaze to get by, but it’s never clear from Barreto’s performance whether Rubina is too kind for her own good, a victim of internal politics, or – despite some improvements in act two – too loosely-drawn for us to care much either way.

Blue/Orange has still-relevant things to say about the strain on the NHS, the internal politics that make up even such an (on paper) worthy institution, and particularly about the treatment of Black patients both by medical professionals and the world at large. Unfortunately, though I do see the strengths of the play, I couldn’t fully connect with this new production, and felt that too much was muted, too many opportunities missed, for this to be the thrilling anniversary production the show’s original impact may warrant.

Blue/Orange plays at Greenwich Theatre until October 25th

For tickets and information visit https://greenwichtheatre.org.uk/events/blueorange/

Photos by Lidia Chrisafulli