A SOCIAL AND POLITICAL COMMENTARY OF THE PAST AND PRESENT

By Katie Shaw | @katieeshaaw ⭐⭐⭐ | Press Invite

Written and directed by Jonathan Lynn, I’m Sorry, Prime Minister is an entertaining political satire and the long-awaited third instalment of ‘80s sitcoms Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister, created by Lynn. It examines the relationship between the fictional former PM turned Professor, Lord Jim Hacker, his mentor, Sir Humphrey Appleby, and his care worker, Sophie. The play is set entirely inside Hacker’s Master’s Lodge at Oxford University, aptly decorated with former Prime Ministers’ portraits on the wall – just above his mobility chair – an oil painting of Westminster and a picture of the Lords’ Chambers; asserting Hacker as a veteran politician trying to retain a last ounce of relevance.

Hacker’s navigation back to relevance in a world very different from the one he knew as PM brings him to meet Sophie, a young woman interviewing for a care worker position. Sophie tells him of her First in Literature obtained from the fictional Hacker College at Oxford, and her reason for becoming a care worker: her parents’ requiring care. In response, Hacker assures Sophie that he hasn’t got dementia, but has got two arthritic knees, gout, and a lot of back pain, while comparing her care work to sex work.

Fellow Professor, Sir David, pays Hacker a visit to inform him that he is being forcibly pushed out of the Lodge by the university, for reasons that reveal themselves further in the play. In an attempt to retain his lodgings and current professor posting, he calls up the only bugger who might be able to help him: Humphrey. With Humphrey’s arrival, Sir David aka the Grim Reaper looming over him, and Sophie’s progressive tongue, this old school politician is strapped in for a lesson in manners and fresh perspectives.

I’m Sorry Prime Minister is a social and political commentary of past and present, with 4 old and young personalities navigating the socio-political world of the 21st century. The writing is smart and considerate, highlighting the generational nuances which exist today. As Hacker and Humphrey reflect on how much the world has changed – cricketers don’t even wear white anymore, can you believe it – Sophie teaches them why it’s important that the world has changed. Her identity as a black queer woman stares these men down the barrel, forcing them to confront their own views and behaviour, both past and present.

Simon Rouse is utterly convincing as the grumpy, impolite, but intellectual Jim Hacker. Rouse almost succeeds in making me dislike him due to how despicable and disagreeable his character is. His performance is entertaining, and he owns the risqué characteristics of set-in-his-way Hacker. Reprising his role as Humphry is Clive Francis, who brings a natural charisma to this softer old timer. Francis has a magnetic stage presence, portraying a character who is outdated yet curious, with warmth and humour. This duo has a captivating dynamic, allowing their intellectually charged dialogue, political observations and humour to bounce off one another with ease and hilarity. Humphrey tests his intellect with elaborate sentences, often confusing Hacker, the audience, and himself, with long trails of thought that rarely connect back to the conversation at hand.

Hacker tests his intellect through his memory – which isn’t his strong suit. He insists he does not have dementia and remains fit to teach, yet relies on Humphrey to jog his memory for various things, suggesting his memory is not quite what it once was. Rouse and Francis’s characters spend most of this play seated in an armchair or sofa, which can sometimes restrict how engaging the performances are. Despite this, they both deliver a brilliantly engaging performance thanks to their sharp comedic timing, familial disagreements and sharp, performative humour.

Sharing the stage with Rouse and Francis is Princess Donnough, who plays Sophie. Donnough is relatable, refreshing, and convincing as Sophie, a black queer woman who was state school educated; a far cry from the background of Hacker and Humphry. In the presence of two once powerful men with outdated views on the world, Sophie is a refreshing, gentle presence brought to life by in a way that feels so effortless by Donnough.

The call for Hacker’s resignation is revealed at the end, surprising Sophie, Humphry, Sir David and Hacker in equal measure. It feels like a slow but steady fall from grace for this former PM turned Peer, with Sir David listing off various words and phrases that are ‘off limits’, Hacker wondering why the world has moved on from certain opinions around race and gender; Humphry caught in the middle of wrong and right in the past and present, and Sophie despairingly trying to explain the importance of progressive thought. It explores generational nuances in a curious and considerate way, but a lot of the references are rather outdated, leaving anyone born in the ‘90s onwards a little confused.

While I found this entertaining without the context of Lynn’s other creations, I think it is a play that would be best appreciated by those who grew up on Yes, Minister and Yes, Prime Minister

I’m Sorry, Prime Minister is running at Riverside Theatre until Sunday 30 May.

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Photo Credit: Johan Persson