Hogwash

The trouble with Neil LaBute's 'modern comedy' Fat Pig is that it seems to hold the pretensions of being a 'hip,' fun satire on the trappings of modern life -- its superficiality and materialism, its prizing conformity over individual happiness. But, ambitions aside, it's just a bad play -- period. In fact, it's probably the worst play I've seen in London.  

The characters are about as convincing as sock puppets, and the 'society' that it seems so critical of doesn't seem to exist outside of American high school cafeterias. Everything falls conveniently under one polemic or another: good or bad, thin or fat, attractive or ugly, cruel or compassionate. Its script is lazy, and even patronizing at times. And this is a comedy? Where? Stale fat jokes don't count. Never are the talented quartet of actors given a chance to probe deeper into their paper-thin characters, which makes it impossible to relate to or commiserate with any of them, including the angelic fat girl. 

The only highlight of the play was the scene where Robert Webb (with a convincing American accent) pretended to be hard at work on his MacBook. I began to zone out and imagine him slipping into his Mac vs PC skit. It was also around this time that a large man, who was sitting beside the Chef, fell asleep and began to snore.

How I wish the Greatest Bitch of All Time, A.A. Gill, would pick up this stinker and toss it to the abattoir. Or, better yet, I'd love to see the late, great In Living Color Men on Art duo (video below) also take a swipe or two.  

Hated it!!!