This review was originally written for The Spy In The Stalls.
Richard Bean’s adaptation of Mamet’s thriller blends noir with comedy, but its split personality leaves suspense and satire jostling for control.
Writer Richard Bean’s stage version of House of Games, directed by Jonathan Kent, is a theatrical sleight-of-hand that both honours and undercuts its source. Adapted from David Mamet’s 1987 film and story, the play tries to pull off a double con: replicating the clipped tension of Mamet’s neo-noir while layering in jokes, cartoonish supporting characters, and a dash of caper comedy.
The result, though often entertaining, is tonally confused – a production unsure whether it wants to unsettle or amuse.
The story follows Margaret (Lisa Dillon), a buttoned-up Harvard clinical psychoanalyst and successful writer. Bored with her uptown life, she becomes embroiled in the seductive world of low-rent grifters after she tries to rescue a client Billy Hahn (Oscar Lloyd) from a gambling debt.
She enters the titular House of Games – a down-at-heel Chicago bar – and meets smooth Mike, (Richard Harrington) a charming hustler whose world of deceit both appals and excites her. Margaret is inspired to research another book which provides her with an excuse to hang around and (improbably) play bit parts in Mike’s cons, a transgression fuelled by a growing passion for her bad boy lover.
Delivered with a chirpy smile
As the scams multiply, so do the psychological twists, leading to a final turn that should, in theory, leave the audience reeling.
But where Mamet’s film presented its narrative with razor-edged minimalism – quick cuts, shadows, tight silences – the stage version feels the need to say everything out loud, slowly and with a chirpy smile.
The introduction of a broad comic sidekicks and the abundance of wisecracks contribute to an atmosphere closer to a sub-Ocean’s 11 pastiche than a psychological thriller. The quipping gang have plenty of character to play with – Robin Soans’ veteran Joey particularly fun – but the gags come at the expense of any menace and tension.
No place for Mamet’s bleakness
Bean’s script confines all the action to just two locations and designer Ashley Martin-Davis pursues the trend for double-decker stages, the clinical therapist’s office above, the sleazy, dimly lit bar below.
While the con-games themselves are nicely choreographed, they are also well telegraphed. And, by now, Bean’s boosterish urges have erased all thoughts of Mamet’s moral bleakness.
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For all its inconsistencies, the production is diverting, packed with plot, character and incident.
The audience, like Margaret, is willingly drawn into the performance’s web of duplicity. There’s a sly thematic resonance here: theatre itself is a con, asking viewers to believe in fictions. This adaptation leans into that idea, sometimes too heavily, but never without flair.
The tricks may be familiar, but the ride is fun.
House of Games runs at Hampstead Theatre until 7 June 2025.