Joking Apart is nearly a quarter of a century old yet shows no sign of becoming a period piece. In place of kipper ties and ridiculous hair, the characters in this revival sport designer leisurewear and mobile phones. But though fashions change, middle-class, middle-English behaviour will always remain pinned under Alan Ayckbourn's thumb.
Long before anyone identified neighbours-from-hell syndrome, Ayckbourn pointed out the far more perfidious problem of neighbours from heaven. Joking Apart centres on a happy, fulfilled couple - a rarity in Ayckbourn's work (significantly, they have chosen to remain unmarried). Happy, fulfilled couples are not the root and branch of successful drama, but Joking Apart comes from the vintage late-1970s period when Ayckbourn was so secure in his genius that he could have written a play about paint drying and made it seem the funniest thing on earth.
Ayckbourn's play demonstrates a fundamental law in emotional physics whereby every outbreak of radiant happiness must trigger an equal and opposite reaction of resentment. To prove this he invents Richard and Anthea, a sickeningly perfect match, whose munificence and bonhomie blights everyone around them.
In bare synopsis there is almost nothing to it. The action drifts congenially over the course of 12 years, and as Richard and Anthea attain new peaks of contentment they unwittingly dig their friends deeper into despair. The substance of the work is buried beneath the lines and brought to the surface by the brilliance of the acting: that is why an Ayckbourn play, directed by the author and performed in Scarborough, is one of the greatest experiences of ensemble theatre you will find.
I doubt that the current cast could be bettered. Paul Raffield sounds a magnificently dour note as the pedantic Sven, with Rachel Atkins a parcel of anxiety as his wife Olive. Kenneth Price ages subtly and with great reluctance as the would-be playboy Brian, with Georgina Freeman excelling as his ever younger sequence of girlfriends. As the blessed Richard and Anthea, David Leonard and Fiona Mollison are simply the nicest people you hope never to meet.
· Until September 7. Box office: 01723 370541.
