Dejavu

Jimmy Porter, now JP, is still smoking, blowing his trumpet and despairing of the Sunday newspapers

Jimmy's only obsession was always himself, and the spiritual fulfillment he once found in his blistering tirades has dwindled to something meaner, sadder and much more affecting; a last line of defense against the yawning abyss of anonymity and death

He is still in the Midlands, but he no longer runs a sweet-stall. The surroundings are more comfortable

Cliff is visiting from Twickenham and Alison is still ironing his shirts. Not Alison his wife, but Alison his daughter

The new play is a self-referential deconstruction of the old one. It is both an update and a throwback, a repetition and a variation, a sequel and a sure sign that while the arteries have hardened, the blood is still hot, thick and red

For Osborne, the capacity for love is all. JP postpones the emotional reckoning with his egocentric sermonizing

This is what makes him a great character, not a bore, and Osborne a great dramatist

In an age when reactionary pundits bark at us from all corners of the media, Osborne alone raises bilious invective to an art form and reminds us that good theatre is most powerful when it makes you want to shout back" ~ Michael Coveney, from London's Observer