Michael Simkins’ stage adaptation of this touching and comedic compilation of letters from father to son fails to capture their unique appeal. Despite a few laughs, many a pantomimic costume change and some touching moments, Dear Lupin at the Apollo is an oddly disjointed account of a vintage British upper-middle class father-son relationship.
About the book Dear Lupin
Roger Mortimer was a captain in the Coldstream guards and spent a number of years in prisoner of war camps before beginning his lengthy career as a racing columnist for The Sunday Times. His son, Charlie Mortimer, was just about everything from nightclub proprietor, to mechanic in Africa, to maker of backgammon boards, to manufacturer of boxer shorts. Over twenty-four years, the duo exchanged a multitude of letters of which Charlie, after his father’s passing, compiled the remaining missives (only those he had received) into a best-selling book.
Dear Lupin, West End play, fails to greatly amuse or amaze
The apt casting of real life father-son team James and Jack Fox highlights is becoming quite the trend (as also seen in The Number at the Young Vic. It’s a shame, though, that this visibly natural bond couldn’t lift the production from its generally stagnant atmosphere and confused tone. While we certainly laughed at the quips and soaked in the legendary James Fox’ impressive array of personae, Dear Lupin’s stage adaptation can’t help but feel like an overly upper-class celebration of some rather archaic attitudes.
|What||Dear Lupin Review, Apollo Theatre|
31 Shaftesbury Avenue, London, W1D 7ES | MAP
|Nearest tube||Leicester Square (underground)|
03 Aug 15 – 19 Sep 15, 7:45 PM – 10:00 PM
|Price||£23 – £83|
|Website||Click here to book tickets via London Theatre Direct|