Bill Rosenfield, a London-based American writer, does something mildly unusual in this 83-minute bedroom drama: he shows the slow process of seduction. It struck me how rarely plays deal with the tactics of getting someone into bed rather than the end result. That, however, is the one surprise in a bland study of sexual self-realisation.
The title refers to an apartment hotel in Boston. That is the temporary home of Robert, a mature British actor appearing in an Anouilh play at the local rep. He brings back to his pad a young American student, Alan, who has minimal sexual experience and who is conscious of his own isolation. Slowly and patiently, by plying him with drinks and offering him a foot massage, Robert steers his naive guest towards the desired end. It is only in the postcoital period that the full truth about both characters starts to come out.
The action is framed by Robert’s present-day recollection of a halcyon period in 1970 when sex was, so it seemed, readily available and guilt-free. But Robert’s brief mention of Aids reminds us of the tragically illusory nature of this past paradise and sits rather oddly with the play’s uncomplicated optimism about Alan’s sexual emergence.
The piece is smoothly directed by Alexander Lass, while Jay Taylor conveys the deceptiveness of Robert’s self-assurance and Oliver Coopersmith neatly captures Alan’s gaucherie. It is a perfectly harmless play, but the framing device hints at historical ironies that remain unexplored.
• At Trafalgar Studios, London, until 29 April. Box office: 0844-871 7627.
