E. M. Forsters Maurice was the first book on a homosexual subject I ever bought. I can remember reading it under the bedcovers when I was fourteen, thinking how daring it seemed at the time. Watching this production at Above The Stag brought it all back, that repressed world where the love that dare not speak its name was only second in the catalogue of unspeakables to the real sin - that of stepping over the class barrier. It is a measure of how well this show works that one of the many things which sets it alight is the realisation that the hero Maurice, an upper middle class boy, should actually fall in love with an under-gamekeeper. This is underscored in a wonderful scene between Maurice and his one-time college lover Clive Durham when the latter - now married after a swift heterosexual enlightenment - expresses such disgust that Maurice should actually go to bed with a servant. And not just any servant, his servant. Not done, old bean. What really stands out in this production is the cast, one of the finest and most professional I have seen in a fringe production in a very long time. Adam Lilley as Maurice and Rob Stott as Clive are hypnotic, with the palm only just going to Stott whose debut performance is nothing short of captivating. He strides the small stage, a love-sick youth eternally condemned to a mans body, every twitch in his expression an indication of how much he is wrestling with duty, fidelity, sexuality and honour. You simply dont want to take your eyes off him. Stevie Raine as under-gamekeeper Alec Scudder doesnt come in until the second act, but he whips away the rug with a sexually-charged performance, one male kiss leading into the inevitable steamy sex scene. There are smaller roles, too, which are equally splendid. Alec Grays cameo as the spluttering dean, Mr Cornwallis, is a treat but sadly he is underused by the script. Then just as one character blows you away, along comes another. Jonathan Hansler as the hypnotist to whom Maurice turns to be cured of his congenital homosexuality is a spectacular turn, a deeply repressed individual himself who suggests to his young patient that as part of his cure he should go out and enjoy the countryside with a gun. The line is a show stopper, delivered with consummate comic-timing. Director Tim McArthur is to be commended for bringing out the very best in his group of actors.Prav Menon-Johanssons uncomplicated stark white set and period costumes (I just adored the blazers) hit just the right note, taking us back to a world of cricket whites, communion and lazy holidays at country estates.There are problems, chief of which is the script which could have done with some judicious trimming. It is too long, and the whole show needs more pace. The first half alone ran for ninety minutes. I also felt that some of the literariness of the novel didnt sit too well on the stage, where one expects more drama than words. That said, this is a superb production, dreamy and quite beautiful to look at, and can only enhance the reputation of Above The Stag as one of Londons most exciting new fringe theatres. Jolly well done, old chaps.
