The Truth West End review – a fun summer romp

The nature of truth, and the extent to which expressing it is a loving thing to do, are questions at the heart of this intriguing comedy from leading French playwright Florian Zeller.

First seen in London ten years ago, it returns with a stellar four-strong cast led by Stephen Mangan as cheating husband Michel, whose lover Alice (Sarah Hadland) happens to be married to his best friend and tennis partner Paul (Ardal O’Hanlon). Meanwhile, his own wife Laurence (Janie Dee) has her suspicions aroused when he starts lying about his whereabouts, before a variety of – some predictable, some less so – twists and turns lead Michel to feel like the centre of his own kind of Truman Show; the only one who doesn’t know the truth.

An obvious comparison is Pinter’s Betrayal, but here the tone is much lighter to the point of straying into farce, heightened by Mangan’s increasingly exasperated and frenzied performance. At times, he almost tips into John Cleese territory, particularly when accusing his friend of being a “bastard” for refusing to tell him he knew he was sleeping with his wife. Those expecting a drama akin to Zeller’s hits The Mother and The Father should prepare to be confounded; the fact that one of the biggest laughs comes from a joke about pretending to lose at tennis tells you everything you need to know.

Lindsay Posner, a veteran of West End comedy, directs with a light and lucid touch, as scenes jump around various swanky Parisian locations neatly rendered by designer Lizzie Clachan and given pointed subheads such as “tightrope walking”, “friendship”, or “an explanation”. Christopher Hampton’s translation ensures Zeller’s distinctly British eye for irony and balance of light and shade shine through. There’s a definite flavour of Ayckbourn as characters punctuate their domestic bon mots with ruminations on the nature of reality.

It all makes for a smart piece of summer programming, a fun Parisian romp with an intriguing note of melancholy, particularly in the ambiguity surrounding Dee’s Laurence, whose determination to manage and retain her husband’s guilt has more than a whiff of control and cruelty.