Florian Zeller and his translator Christopher Hampton brought something completely distinctive to the British stage with The Father three years ago. Now Zeller is one of the few contemporary European playwrights regularly performed here. The Lie in part shows why: it has Zeller’s wiry, unsentimental dialogue, his teasing out of a notion to its limits. But it is wispy: an acute parlour game.
Two couples in a plush, uncluttered room discuss whether telling the truth is necessary or cruel. In particular, should you tip off a friend when her husband is unfaithful? Left alone, host and hostess trap each other into confessions, which they then retract. But can they be sure of each other? And are their guests implicated?
Here is an elegant look at the mechanisms people use to make themselves look convincing – a clever theatrical wheeze, as it gets audiences considering what makes actors seem plausible.
Most people lie as if they are telling the truth. This couple tells the truth in order to lie. In a clever twist the play has a false ending: it becomes its own fib.
Samantha Bond and her real-life husband Alexander Hanson (stepping in after James Dreyfus withdrew) are crisp and plausible as the main couple. But nothing in Lindsay Posner’s production makes you feel that the resolution of their banter actually matters.
