Is getting a drink with an ex always a bad idea? If the aim to create the chaos and drama befitting a side-splitting one-act play, well: you might be onto something. Debuting in London after runs in New York and Los Angeles, Douglas Lyons’ Table 17 is dependent on people making bad, often unjustifiable, choices. Decisions are made and details revealed that elicit audible boos from the audience, some of whom sit on cabaret tables and have been actively encouraged in the pre-show to talk backand let rip. It’s all part of the fun.
Directed by Tony-winner Zhailon Levingston (he of Broadway’s acclaimed CATS The Jellicle Ball), Table 17 is unafraid to conjure these big emotions – and big sounds – from its crowd. Constantly wrongfooting the audience, the show flips from laugh-out-loud hilarity to genuine tragedy in minutes, changing costumes and switching timelines at equal pace. It’s a stylish and exhilarating theatrical experience, jolted forward by three powerful, emotive performances. The characters might be car crashes, but you won’t want to look away from a production this slick.
The former couple in question are the confident Jada (Marisha Wallace) and kinda corny mechanic-cum-music-producer Dallas (the West End’s original Alexander Hamilton, Jamael Westman). We meet both individually, delivering respective monologues as they get ready for their date (or not-date?). The pair primp and preen, as Jada switches one bandage dress for another and Dallas opts for the corduroy trousers his ex predicted he’d be wearing. ‘I don’t want him back, though if I did want him back, I’d want him to want me back first, so I could tell his ass that I don’t want him back before I took him back,’ Jada states, a warning of messy feelings to come.
Jada and Dallas are complex individuals – the kind you root for one moment only to distance yourself with palms held up and an ‘I’m not sure about that, girl’ the next. You can tell that Wallace and Westman are having a blast taking on such real roles within a play that gives them endless room to roam. Karaoke singing (immediately establishing Wallace’s star power for anyone unaware), slapstick humour, and dancing both cringe and cool are all deftly employed, their humour making the show’s emotional rug pulls all the more devastating.
While the date itself plays out in near-real time, Table 17 is by no means a static affair. I mean that literally; Amy Jane Cook’s vibrant set sits on a pivot, turning from a plush restaurant booth (all leather and velvet and brass) to a nightclub with disco lights pulsing from the floor. As the one-time couple reminisce, the story flashes back. We see the origins of Dallas and Jada. Their meeting and that instant chemistry play out, but so do the problems in their relationship. Blame never lies with one party for long, the audience’s shifting allegiances tangible and exciting to behold.
At this point, I have to talk about the third actor in this play. You see, Table 17 could be a two-hander; when we first meet the pair’s waiter River (Michael Rishawn), he seems like a minor part, there to get the audience on side with a droll comment and unimpressed eyebrow raise. But Rishawn comes into his own (and sometimes steals the scene) as he multiroles between River, a straight bro-y bartender, and a rather persistent colleague of Jada’s. Compared to the complexity of our leads, these characters feel a little more stock, but I get it – clear markers are needed to distinguish when playing lots of different characters. Either way, they serve as a fantastic showcase for Rishawn’s breadth as a comedic actor. Directors will be desperate to snap him after seeing this, I’m sure.
Table 17 is certainly a romcom (emphasis on the ‘com’), but one that refuses to coddle its audience with a dishonest happy ending. Jada and Dallas are raw and real; by the time the play’s conclusion rolls around after endless twists and turns and misdirects, it’s hard to come to anyone’s defence, entirely. You might not approve of the character’s actions, but after experiencing a piece of theatre as heartfelt, hilarious, and honestly, challenging, as Table 17, you’ll be grateful they got that drink. For our sake, if not theirs.
