Small Hotel

Over the last three months, Ralph Fiennes, one of the most celebrated actors and directors of our time, has transformed the Theatre Royal Bath stage into his very own theatrical playground.

Fiennes is now at work for the final time in his season in a brief and dizzying new play by acclaimed playwright Rebecca Lenkiewicz called “Small Hotel”.

In the play’s surreal opening, we watch as Fiennes’ Larry, a washed-up TV-show host, stumbles into the hazy no man’s land between life and death, seemingly after being stabbed in a train station. Here, among a whirling spell of old Hollywood music interspersed with haikus, Larry confronts who he is, or was, through a series of fleeting connections and conversations with the people he spent his life loving.

His only companion on this fever dream of a journey? An all-singing, all-(tap)-dancing Liverpudlian bartender wearing an eye patch.

Whether this mysterious woman, played with an eerie effortlessness by Rachel Tucker, is Larry’s basic consciousness, a representation of the innermost unknowable corners of his mind, or perhaps even Death herself, doesn’t really seem to matter in the play’s 90-minute run. What “Small Hotel” is more concerned with is how the big players in Larry’s life seem to converge and overlap within the last few weeks, and perhaps moments, of Larry’s life.

First up is Larry’s mother (Francesca Annis), an unpredictable alcoholic soured by aging, whose vitriol fails to stir up much passion in Larry, even when her depression looks as if it might eclipse her.

Next up, meet Marianne, Larry’s much younger ex-girlfriend played by a brilliant Rosalind Eleazar, who swings back into Larry’s life with a palpable confidence from her successful acting career. Despite the pair having an undeniable rapport much is left unsaid here about what Marianne might have lost in their ill-advised age-gap love affair.

And then there’s Richard, Larry’s elusive twin, who is also played masterfully by Fiennes. Joining us mainly via a projected FaceTime call, Richard is boyish and eccentric, a lone wolf who has spent a lifetime in his twin’s shadow and yet still knows him better than anyone else. He’s impossible not to like.

Within all of Larry’s relationships, there are glimmers of shared experiences, shared truths, which momentarily illuminate an interdependent resilience. Paths to a place where a down-trodden Larry might be welcome are scribbled out as quickly as they are drawn.

And just like that, your stay at the “Small Hotel” is over, just as you begin to grasp something worth holding onto. And perhaps this transience is the point. Perhaps life is just a collection of fleeting moments of perfection. Perhaps moments only become perfect in our recollection of them.

Director Holly Race Roughan has a firm hand on the pace and humour of the piece, using designer Bob Crowley’s seamless sets on a revolve to drift between scenes as if in a waking dreamscape. All four performances are adroit and committed. Fiennes skilfully balances the confidence of his chat show host personality with a downtrodden demeanour and has some impressive soft shoe steps to boot.

Eleazar matches Fiennes in timing, energy and emotional range, bringing a fragile rawness to Marianne. Annis effectively underplays the alcoholism of Athena and makes her both strident and vulnerable, whilst West End favourite Tucker sings, dances and menaces with relish.

Either way, this is a thoughtful, experimental end to the Ralph Fiennes / Theatre Royal Bath Season. The play rejects categorisation and invites speculation. It’s a snapshot into what really excites some of the greatest minds working in theatre today.