“The famous author goes on a journey and sits opposite an unknown woman who’s reading his latest book. Good subject for a short story,” says train passenger Paul Parksy. Great subject for a play, I say. 

Yasmin Reza’s 1995 play (translated from the French by Christopher Hampton) is a rhapsody on the travelling inner monologue. Even if we haven’t fantasised about receiving an award (I know of no actor who will not secretly admit to this) or giving an in-depth interview to the latest headlining columnist, we have all indulged in imagining the world of others when travelling. 

Paul Parsky, well known and crotchety author (Joe Cecchi) and Martha (Kate Lindsay) are on a train from Paris to Frankfurt. She immediately recognises him as her favourite author, whose latest book sits half-read in her bag. Dilemma: does she introduce herself, leave him to her own devices, reveal how much of a fan she is …? It could be her only chance but, although she knows him intimately through his books, will she be engaged or embarrassingly rebuffed? Parsky is content to meander through his memory of real and imagined slights, and to concoct scenarios for the lone woman in the carriage.

Part comedy of manners and hugely entertaining, the text is light, easy and filled with delightful laughs. Like her most well-known work Art, The Unexpected Man is self-reflective, constantly aware of itself, as the opening quote shows. Its wonderful simplicity allows us to penetrate a number of layers without effort.

The Unexpected Man is the title of the book to with they both refer; it also refers to Martha’s experience of meeting her favourite author; it could easily stretch to the influence of particular males in each of their lives who form part of their contemplative soliloquies.  And as we share each character’s experience of the situation, we are able to sit back and relax, perhaps watching our own interpretation as if we were also on that train. At 80 minutes it is the perfect length for our journey. 

The supportive design (also by Cecchi) is all Poor Theatre: a simple nod to tracks by tape on the floor; mis-matched seats with that wonderfully awful floral covering that appear as separated aisle seats; lights (Alexandra Ross) that focus us on the actors but, like all trains, illuminate the ‘everywhere’ of a carriage; and costumes that nod to status rather than the fully attired elegance of Parsky, as mentioned by Martha. These are all very good choices and work in the intimacy of the Globe Theatre, focusing us on the ‘everymundaneday’ of such a public place and emphasising the intimacy of the dialogue.

Cecchi has taken on a huge role in both playing Parsky and directing. His natural American voice trips delightfully over and around the many subjects, witticisms, non-sequiturs and digressions. At one point Parksy claims there are few piano pieces that require the pedal and this would be a character note for Parsky too: Cecchi has a little too much pedal at times, so that thoughts and intentional changes merge into each other without a seeming change of thought. However, his overall performance is engaging, never indulging Parsky but keeping him alert to himself, as though he’s Woody Allen’s older brother. 

Lindsay, as ‘The Woman’, is a perfect foil for Cecchi. She finely balances the internal loss (great self-reflective revelation by Reza) with the present gain of her favourite author in the carriage. She attends to the comedy brightly, never over playing it, and is best when darting between her own subjects.  

Both actors bring a confidence to the stage and we grow comfortably into the situation as they do. Mid-way through the performance I would have been happy to contribute to the conversation, having lost myself in their experience. 

Great observational drama and very good performances make this a great night out.

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