麻豆传媒

by Will Self, adapted by Patrick Marmion, Arcola Theatre, London, to 21 April

IT IS rare that a year goes by without Will Self, that sardonic chronicler of the broken and the bizarre, declaring that the novel is dead, or doomed. His first theatrical venture, Great Apes, is itself a kind of goodbye, though in this case he is waving off the entire human species.

This wildly alternate reality, where the development of Homo sapiens took a different fork in the Darwinian road, is based on one of Self鈥檚 best novels, published in 1997. It combines a germ of Kafka鈥檚 Metamorphosis, a snatch of Planet of the Apes and a whole island鈥檚-worth of Swiftian satire, to prick the preposterous commonplaces of the 1990s, and through them, our abiding penchant for posturing anthropocentrism.

At London鈥檚 Arcola Theatre it has been given a wild, whirling adaptation by playwright Patrick Marmion. A ferocious, talented cast switch roles and flick through scenes with abandon.

Simon Dykes is an artist, played by Bryan Dick, who wakes up after an evening of exuberant drug-taking and sex to find that he and everyone he knows have morphed into up-scaled chimps. London is now a swarming ape metropolis, social norms have collapsed, and the preface to social encounters is rampant Bonobo-like copulation rather than polite human greetings.

Self鈥檚 work has always been a freewheeling mishmash of whimsy, bar-room philosophy and bum jokes, giving his work great energy and exuberance. There is also a less appealing note: a queasy 鈥渁ppreciation鈥� of the louche excesses of London鈥檚 arts scene. Marmion has nailed that perfectly.

In Oscar Pearce鈥檚 high-energy production, chimp puns tumble over lofty reflections, and existential crises jostle for space with the sheer slapstick joy of actors pretending to be apes pretending to be 1990s urbanites.

The cast is uniformly strong, with Bryan Dick and Donna Berlin the standouts. Sarah Beaton鈥檚 design is minimal, but that is for the best as this seven-strong company barrels across the stage under Jonnie Riordan鈥檚 witty movement direction.

The original novel had plenty to say about the state of the world, and depressingly many targets have survived the passage of the years. Care for the unwell and the elderly, the glass ceiling and the patriarchy are held up to alien, ape-ish standards.

There are lessons to be learned among the primates and, barring a slightly mawkish penultimate scene, Marmion retains enough of Self鈥檚 acidity to pose them clearly.

鈥淟ondon is now a swarming ape metropolis, and all social norms have collapsed鈥�

The play is at its best when it uses the apparently shocking social codes of the apes to reframe our own standards of care and community. As Simon鈥檚 journey progresses, in fact, the grooming and sex lose their power to affront and become symbols of something kinder, or at least more honest.

There is an intriguing thread running through Great Apes that has only become more relevant with the passing of time: in a world where social media profiles are the front-line of interaction, how relevant is it whether a chimp or a human is at the controls?

Sadly, the conceit begins to wear thin before the end. Perhaps that is inevitable in a play lasting just under 2 hours.

For sure the cast鈥檚 energy never flags, there is no shortage of ideas, and the play鈥檚 balancing of smarts and humanity is engaging to the last. But time is the enemy of some satire: however deftly Self鈥檚 thought experiments are spun, it did feel like an awfully long time to be monkeying around.

This article appeared in print under the headline 鈥淢onkeying around鈥�