One of the most highly anticipated appearances in the West End this year, marking his first play for almost a quarter of a century, Rowan Atkinson endows his inherent humour with a sense of tragic loneliness to portray the teacher at the heart of Simon Gray’s quintessentially English play Quartermaine’s Terms.
Set in the staffroom of an international school in Cambridge, Quartermaine’s Terms examines the lives of a group of teachers who are intent on imparting their English values and, in some cases, wisdom to their foreign students. Among them are aspiring writer Mark, fiercely devoted Henry, God-loving spinster Melanie, sympathetic and fragile Anita, homosexual co-principal Eddie, accident prone newbie Derek and, of course, lonely bachelor St John Quartermaine, who has been a fixture at the school longer than most of the staffroom furniture.
The role is made for Atkinson. Sitting in an old leather armchair that bears a permanent imprint of his body, St John is a Mr Bean-like character – unobtrusive and unobservant – whose bouts of conversation consist of little more than incomplete statements and his elongated pronunciation of the word “terrific”. What’s more, he’s a hopeless teacher who spends most of his lessons in silence, much to the dismay of new part-time teacher Derek, who is angling for a full time position at the school.
Atkinson is supported by a cast of equally entertaining characters. Will Keen is amusing as the vulnerable victim of unfortunate mishaps, Malcolm Sinclair brings an element of pompousness to the staffroom as the plosive pronouncing Eddie who isn’t afraid to voice his opinion about other people’s appearances and Conleth Hill is comically outgoing as the story-telling senior lecturer who cowers at the unsolicited advances of Felicity Montagu’s uptight Melanie.
Though the action never leaves Tim Hatley’s beige and brown staffroom set, we are brought snapshots of the teachers’ lives outside the school, be them marital difficulties, ill parents, academically struggling children, new found love lives or, in the case of St John, simply the discovery of his old tuxedo.
While the first half draws comedy out of St John’s pitiable character whose D- in social skills and A+ in putting his foot in it leaves him unable to find anyone to accompany him to the theatre, the second half delves deeper into the dark drama of Gray’s tragicomedy.
Despite the staffroom being shrouded in mourning, it is the inevitable fate of Atkinson’s lonesome and powerless character that leaves a resonating pang of sadness like a dart through the cheerful body of the rest of Richard Eyre’s polished production.