The UN Inspector is a deceptive comedy. With few, if any, moments of pure, unadulterated slapstick, the play hurtles from breezy farce to horrific tragedy and back, giving the audience the uncomfortable feeling of wanting to laugh and cry – one after the other, and at the same time. The drama, performed here in York by the Youth arm of the Theatre Royal, is set in a small, post-Soviet ‘democracy’, where the President (John Holt Roberts) rules with an ironically nostalgic iron fist. He and his smiling, smartly dressed cronies aren’t obvious stage villains. Their corruption is exposed, however, as we see them fall over themselves to save face before foreign visitor and hapless British businessman Martin ‘Remmington’ Gammon (Oliver Tattersfield) – mistaken for the dreaded UN Inspector. It’s a classic impostor story, but one with a modern, satirical twist, allowing for some brilliant set pieces; from Gammon’s drunken monologue about his dreamt up connections (“I was on Big Brother with Pinter!”) to the President’s self-congratulatory speech on his daughter’s impending marriage, which continues in his office onstage, while he ignores the sounds of gunshots dispersing the screaming crowds off it. | "Despite the cast’s relative youth... they perform in the roles of corrupt capitalists and statesmen as if they’ve been taking backhanders since birth." | |
I haven’t seen Gogol’s The Government Inspector (the master play on mistaken identity from which David Farr’s script is adapted) and so I can’t weigh in on the debate over whether this adaptation ‘dilutes’ the original. There doesn’t seem anything watered down about the York Youth Theatre’s production, however, as despite the cast’s relative youth – one has the impression of sixth formers for whom school uniform and the suited attired of business men and government officials are interchangeable – they perform in the roles of corrupt capitalists and statesmen as if they’d been taking backhanders since birth. I was particularly impressed by their adopting of a device used in the original London production, whereby the characters speak in Yorkshire accents when they’re speaking in their native tongue, but slip into a cheesy eastern European accent when speaking to Gammon in English. There were some distinctly unprofessional moments, such as when the President’s maid managed to spill a peculiarly fruity-looking ‘wine’ over Gammon’s arm, instead of into his plastic glass, (some of the actors had to stifle their laughter) but in general, it was a sturdy performance. I look forward to seeing more of the Youth Theatre’s work in the future. Jo Shelley | 
