Alan Ayckbourn wrote A Small Family Business for the National Theatre in 1987. An attack on conspicuous consumption, it was equally a product of the culture it satirised, though Terry Hands's timely production proves that the play is far from a prisoner of the 1980s. Ayckbourn exposed the greed of the era by transposing Thatcherite ideals to a morally bankrupt small firm that makes illicit deals from the manufacture of bathroom furniture. Yet it now looks like a prophetic social document, one that predicted everything from the credit crisis to the parliamentary expenses scandal.
At the heart of the matter is Jack, who assumes control of the operation determined to bring new transparency to the family's affairs. Unfortunately, few of his nearest and dearest bear much scrutiny, as his daughter is apprehended for shoplifting, his brother is involved in industrial espionage and even his wife admits to a little light pilfering: "Everyone works fiddles ... they don't quite declare this, they tell a little lie about that. Not dishonest, just a bit fuzzy round the edges."
One is so accustomed to Ayckbourn producing chamber music, it is a pleasure to hear these themes develop on a symphonic scale. The performances are equally resounding, particularly Robert Blythe's Jack, who wears the exasperated expression of a man who arrives wielding a new broom and is left holding a stick. Ayckbourn's observation of a society a little fuzzy round the edges remains razor sharp.
