As the action starts in the latest production of Mike Leigh's Abigail's Party, you can’t help but feel a prickling sense of anticipation. This marvel of 1970’s British social dysfunction has once again graced the stage, proving that the party never truly ends, it simply finds a new host.
Drenched in nostalgia and plenty of gin, Abigail's Party invites us into the garish living room (designed with impeccable 70’s bad taste by Bek Palmer) of Beverly and Laurence Moss, a suburban couple who could give a masterclass in passive-aggressive warfare. They are hosting a soiree, a get-together for the neighbours, and, as is often the case when people are thrown together in this way, no one really wants to be there – not even Laurence, and it’s his house. Only Beverly is truly at ease, wafting from one guest to the next, offering them ‘just a little top up’ and trying to persuade them to eat the ‘cheese and pineapple ones’ she’s thrusting into their faces.