I love Philip Ridley's plays but this one isn't going to challenge my favourites.
Angry is written as six gender neutral monologues and night to night actors Georgie Henley and Tyrone Huntley switch which monologues they perform.
The suggestion is that there will be gender nuances in the performance or gender tensions in the stories or that it might challenge how you perceived the stories based on your own gender. The suggestion is that it will be intriguing enough that you'll want to watch it another night with the actors performing the alternate monologues.
But the problem is there was no gender tension in these particular stories; in fact there wasn't a single moment when I was curious about how a story would play out performed by the alternate actor. Or where I felt challenged.
Instead it felt merely like a ploy to get repeat visits.
Then there are longer pieces such as one involving an encounter between a straight-laced teenager and an unruly teenager who has a bloodshot eye.
In the final monologue, and one of the longest, we are told the story of how a couple got together, built a great life only for it to be destroyed by circumstances beyond their control (the circumstances are trademark Philip Ridley).
It starts with last moments of the story teller as they count down the number of breaths they have left then flicks back and forward between that moment and the story of how they ended up in that situation.
By this point my patience was wearing a little thin and the countdown, rather than building tension, felt like a reminder of how long this particular story was taking.
Trying to pick threads that weave through the stories is tricky and I was left wondering what point the piece was making or even what reaction it was trying to illicit.
Georgie Henley and Tyrone Huntley certainly give it their all, the problem I think lies with the material.
Angry is a play where the picture on the box doesn't reflect what is inside. Instead it left me feeling frustrated and yes a bit angry that it hadn't lived up to that promise.
It's 90 minutes long and I'm giving it 2 stars and runs at the Southwark Playhouse until March 10.