I could tell even before Table 17 began that this was not going to be a conventional night at the theatre. It wasn’t because of the stylish set, dominated by an upholstered restaurant booth positioned on a floor of illuminated square panels that looked more like a disco than a restaurant. Nor was it the small round tables surrounding the stage, where some members of the audience were seated as though they were at a cabaret club. It was the announcement before the play began, encouraging us to interact with the cast, much like we would at a pantomime. An intriguing prospect.
Jada (Marisha Wallace) and Dallas (Jamael Westman) were once engaged but haven’t been in contact for two years when Dallas calls to invite her to dinner. As she gets ready for the meeting, which she insists to herself is not a date, it is clear that she still has feelings for her ex-fiancé. She asks the audience for reassurance that she looks good in her dress, but perhaps because everyone hasn’t yet warmed to the panto vibe the play is trying to create, the response is rather muted. She asks again, this time receiving a much more enthusiastic affirmation that she does, indeed, look hot.
When the couple sit down at the restaurant for their reunion, we don’t know why they broke up or why Dallas has asked to meet up. Through their conversation and a series of flashbacks, we travel back through their relationship, from their first meeting at a dance club to a marriage proposal, during which Jada comically insists on looking her best for the moment so it can be captured on Dallas’s phone. We then see the tensions begin to build as their priorities and ambitions start to diverge.
It’s a simple story of boy meets girl, they fall in love, the relationship breaks down and everything builds towards a conclusion where we discover whether or not they will get back together. It’s formulaic romcom territory and the storytelling isn’t particularly layered or nuanced, but the production succeeds through the magnetic chemistry between Wallace and Westman and the charismatic, highly energetic performance of Michael Rishawn. He plays multiple roles, most memorable is River, the couple’s hilariously nosey waiter, and as Eric, Jada’s flirtatious work colleague.
Wallace, best known for her West End musical roles, proves equally captivating in straight comedy. She brings a fierce but vulnerable energy to Jada, convincingly capturing the tension of someone trying hard not to care while actually caring a great deal. Westman, who also has a background in musical theatre, brings an effortless charm and smoothness to Dallas, while allowing just enough insecurity to crack through his confident exterior to keep his character likeable and engaging.
Stealing scene after scene is Michael Rishawn as River, who provides a running commentary on the events unfolding around him at the restaurant. He also switches effortlessly between multiple characters during the flashbacks, displaying brilliant comic timing and an infectious physical energy every time he appears.
Douglas Lyons’ writing is intelligent, with fast, funny dialogue that is sprinkled with moments when Jada and Dallas break the fourth wall to ask the audience for advice or reassurance about their choices. I did, however, find the frequent use of the N-word uncomfortable. Personally, I don’t like hearing Black people referring to each other in this way and its repeated use throughout the production was distracting and took away from my enjoyment of the play.
Director Zhailon Levingston keeps the pace brisk, making smooth transitions between the couple’s awkwardness in the present and the intimacy of their past. The emotional moments are never overwhelmed by the comedy and the way the audience is drawn into the action feels natural rather than gimmicky.
Amy Jane Cook’s set and costume design, combined with Matt Haskins’ lighting and George Dennis’ sound design, give the production plenty of visual and sound variety. The central restaurant setting is transformed through these elements into a range of different environments, helping the flashbacks feel distinct from the action taking place in the present.
Table 17 does not reinvent the romantic comedy and its story is perhaps more predictable than surprising, but it delivers the formula with so much heart and humour that you can’t help but root for its central couple. It’s an hilarious, relatable and thoroughly entertaining evening at the Kiln that might just make you think about texting your ex.
