Anna Burnside reviews a well-intentioned production let down by ‘a clanky’ script.
The story of the three little pigs who see an unexpected big bad wolf through their Ring doorbell is a familiar fairy tale. Here we join Daniel as he is acting out his own expanded and modernised version, via an iPad, for the daughter who now lives with her mum.
Call over, he pulls on a woolly hat, gets into a sleeping bag, hugs her toy Winnie the Pooh and curls up on the sofa.
The next day, when he’s out, the 21st century wolves arrive at his door. At first, it’s not clear who these lock-busting individuals actually are: one is in a balaclava, the other one has a businesslike fleece and tool bag. Eventually it becomes clear the latter is an electrician and the former a debt collector/ham-fisted locksmith. They are here to install a prepaid meter.
From here on it’s a mixture of a Citizens Advice Bureau briefing session and GB News debate. Malc, the debt collector, is the blinkered individualist who assumes Daniel is comfortably off because he drinks ground coffee. Sussanne, the electrician, is the moderate voice of reason, and poor Daniel is caught in the crossfire, trying to prevent his fuel bills going up even faster than they are at the moment.
Ben Ewing is strong as Malc, an unlikeable great lunk of a lad, full of terrible patter and even worse prejudices. But it’s a clanky piece of writing, without subtlety or wit to lighten its leaden message. There might be a great play to be written about the evils of prepaid electricity meters, but this is not it.
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The Wolves at the Door performs at Oran Mor’s A Play, A Pie and A Pint until September 21, 2024. It then tours to the Traverse in Edinburgh (September 24-28).
Photo by Tommy Ga-Ken Wan.
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