All New People, Duke of York’s Theatre.

The poster says it all really. A firefighter, a dowdy chick, a whore – sorry, escort – and JD from Scrubs all grown up in a waistcoat. Such is the mix of silliness and sincerity which Zach Braff seeks to whip together in his bittersweet tragicomedy All New People. To be fair, it is funny. Sometimes. But when it tries to be serious it’s not even funny how bad it is.

It is winter. We know this because the image of falling snow is projected onto screen. An Irish jig is playing. The screen and curtain rise to unveil Braff standing atop a chair with an extension cord noose around his neck. Understandable, if somewhat extreme – Irish dancing music is terribly irritating. The silent sequence that follows is pathetically funny, as he tries to dispose of his cigarette responsibly without extricating himself from his self made death trap. Something about imminent suicide coupled with observance of health and safety regulations strikes a chord in even the most hardened heart. Very soon after, however, a very Bridget Jones-like woman stampedes through the door and proceeds to talk, at speed, at length, and to little purpose. Everything went a bit downhill after that.

Charlie (Braff) is a 35-year-old man with a Dark Secret in his past who has resolved to kill himself in his friend’s beach house during the deserted off-peak season. He finds himself saddled with unwanted company, however: the hapless English estate agent, her drug dealer, and the 15k hooker his friend has sent to cheer him up. Hilarious mishaps and misanthropy ensue, and we learn that there is more to each of these misfits than meets the eye. We learn this with the help of the trusty screen, which again comes down at crucial points to show a short pre-recorded film of each character’s back-story. While the former teacher in me commended the use of visual aids, the paying audience member felt more than a bit miffed.

When it’s good, Braff’s writing is witty and quippy and laugh out loud. But when it’s bad it’s excruciating. Watching the actors trying to eke a sense of sincerity out of the more earnest monologues, I felt an overwhelming urge to reach for the extension cord myself.

One minute people were tripping over rolling balls; the next, descrying the fickleness of fate and the tragic irony of the tenuous human condition. The revelations of each character’s Dark Secret rolled out with all the predictability of a sushi conveyor belt. By the end of the evening, eyes were rolling almost as much as balls.

The cast does its best. Myles (Torchwood), Hilton (National Theatre, Donmar) and Fielding (RSC, National Theatre) all rally round with gusto. The physical comedy is often a joy to watch. But with a script this patchy, there’s little you can do but grin and bear it. Or fall over some balls. Again.

Braff is not entirely devoid of talent. But melding the ridiculous and the sublime is a feat that very few playwrights can pull off – and even fewer on their first try. Braff has a long way to go. His acting isn’t bad – at least to begin with. He spends the majority of the first part reacting to what other people say, writhing in the silent apoplexy of a guy who just wants to be left alone but finds himself surrounded by idiots. But silence, as they say, is golden. When he starts waxing lyrical, it truly goes beyond the pale. The real piece de resistance of pseudo-philosophical pulp he saves for his own monologues; and when the time for his backstory comes, he actually takes to the stage in front of the screen, which is projecting an image of his own face, reliving moment of epiphany he had when two ants and a pop tart crumb made him think about things from God’s perspective.

Onstage and onscreen? At once? With a metaphor about pop tarts. That’s deep, man.

 

Sarah Sharp is a 26-year-old writer and actor, based in London. She has been writing reviews for theatre, film and comedy for about six months and is a Fringe rookie. She is excited to be in Edinburgh, at the catalyst point for so much up-and-coming talent.

 She reviewed All New People at Duke of York’s Theatre. The judges enjoyed her “witty and engaging review that offered a lighthearted take on the play”.