Here is a show that shuffles on
and takes its time getting around to nothing much.
It hangs on laughs, but they are sad and few;
frankly it should have stayed in 1972.
Here are two veterans of Vaudeville
who might, or might not, but always inevitably will
revive their old routine, cast back their minds
and fumble foolishly around with props and lines.
It’s not all bad: Danny DeVito’s drawl
is pure New York and sweet as hot coffee and bagels
on a cold morning; I love his ‘small’ apartment,
stripy pyjamas and penchant for Variety, but
this play does not hang on one character alone
and there's no punch or powder in the rest of it.
It’s flat as sugar substitute, or decaff: it looks right,
but there’s no flavour, no sparkle, no bite.
Sunshine Boys is playing at the Savoy Theatre until 28 July