I'll admit, I was hesitant to see this production because the all-star cast is a little overwhelming, irritatingly commercial and (dare I say it?) inspires a vain audience. Yes, it is a wonderful thing to bring new audiences to the theatre by having a well-known face in a play. I agree with that. But it does also mean that every time Rupert Grint steps towards the edge of the stage a strange caterwauling erupts from the stalls, like the sound a baby makes when you pull its toy away from them. Furthermore, the interval is predictably filled with giggly young girls doing a quick IMDB search of where the beautiful Ben Whishaw has been all their lives. "Who is this charming man with the smooth moves in a silver blazer?" An incredible actor, that's who.
Yes. Whishaw's performance as Baby is captivating, and shows capabilities that I didn't even know were in his repertoire. Most notably is in his voice: as well as giving us an accent entirely foreign to the well-spoken lilt we all know most recently from Q in 'Skyfall', we were also treated to a gorgeous tenor singing voice that was as delightful as it was heartbreaking, depending on what had just occurred in the play. The production seems to move according to Whishaw's tune, as is fitting to the character of Baby as well as to the gravitas of his performance.
Of likewise weight is Daniel Mays' stunning approach to the character of Potts. I am always left in a state of admiration after seeing Mays perform, because he seems to delicately balance his instinct with intellect and really listen to the audience, his fellow actors and the play itself, responding accordingly. The effect of this is that the delivery of his lines hits an absolute timing that provokes the most genuine laughter, as well as ensuring that the story is told as clearly and movingly as it deserves. Without spending too many words lavishing praise on two of our truly great stage and screen actors, I must say that for me, Whishaw and Mays held the play together, in the midst of writing that relies so heavily on an effective portrayal of Butterworth's lively, brilliant characters.
Indeed, let's move on to the play itself. I must begin by saying, first of all, that I love Jez Butterworth: 'Jerusalem' and 'The River' are justifiably two of my favourite works in contemporary theatre. But in comparison, 'Mojo' is somewhat less inspiring. Nothing really happens beyond a bit of a murder mystery and an odd encounter between Baby and a rock n' roll star, Silver Johnny. Unfortunately, if we were to focus too heavily on the storyline itself, we would be sorely underwhelmed, but where Butterworth redeems himself tenfold is in writing bright, funny, charming and tangible characters. His work easily lends itself to actors who thrive off parts they can get their teeth into (Mark Rylance and Mackenzie Crook in 'Jerusalem', Dominic West in 'The River') and for this reason, I struggle to say a single bad word about this play. Although the play itself didn't change my life, the performances did, and this is henceforth the perfect evening for theatre-goers and celebrity-followers alike.
There is a reason why the curtain call reads like a who's who of BBC drama, and I am glad this 1995 play has been revived. It's just a bit of fun, really, and I continue to sit in eager anticipation of Butterworth's next work.
'Mojo' plays at the Harold Pinter Theatre, London, until 8th Feb.
Tickets available at: http://www.mojotheplay.com/tickets/
