What is going on with the Barcelona reviews? 

There is nothing more exciting than seeing a new play or musical picking up the full range of two- to five-star write-ups. There is a certain kind of beauty in reviewers all having wildly different opinions on the same material: if blanket consensus existed for every show, then critics might as well be replaced with AI bots writing 400 words based on webcam footage.

After varied opinions on Why Am I So Single? a few months ago, it seems that the world premiere of Bess Wohl’s Barcelona, which is playing through to 11 January, has drawn a similar response.

Led by Emily in Paris’ Lily Collins and Money Heist’s Álvaro Morte, the two-hander follows an Iberian one-night stand that escalates into something much more tragic and, according to some critics, profound. It is directed by Lynette Linton, remaining at the Duke of York’s Theatre following her fantastic work on the West End transfer of Shifters during the summer.

It also marked Collins’ professional stage debut – something that some critics felt was a brilliantly original turn. Sarah Crompton, of this parish, described Collins as “a revelation”, while Fiona Mountford went one step further in The i and said that her turn was “one of the best things I’ve seen on stage all year” in a five-star rave, one that will no doubt be placed above many a poster. Even Nick Curtis, in a less glowing overall verdict in The Standard, praised Collins as “sensational”, while Dominic Maxwell’s Sunday Times write-up states: “Collins sells you on every moment while making it all look easy as pie.”

Nevertheless, a portion of critics had issues with Wohl’s script and aspects of the production around it. Tom Wicker in The Stage called it “infuriating” and “packed with plot contrivances”, while Andrzej Lukowski in Time Out said that Collins “lacks the range or heft to wrangle any real pathos out of Irene’s (fairly banal) personal revelations”. Annabel Nugent in The Independent highlighted that “monologues are heavy in exposition but lacking in the requisite emotional scaffolding to support them.”

But why such a variety? This writer has a hunch: in the case of Barcelona, critics had the option to see the show on multiple nights. Some of the most damning verdicts came not on the show’s official opening (which was when Crompton, among other more positive responses, saw the piece) but on previous evenings. Personally, I stand with Crompton – press night saw both performers firing on all cylinders, selling the material.

Perhaps the turns given on earlier nights exposed some of possible flaws in Wohl’s story – and the delicate house of narrative cards she stacks up wobbled somewhat. Either way – another example of the entirely subjective world of live performance, and arts criticism.