Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont

I went into the Paris Theatre in New York last night, more as a refuge from the merciless weather that anything else. What a wonderful and unexpected surprise. Joan Plowright plays a widow who decides to live her last years of her life as an independent woman in a small retirement hotel in London. I'm not sure if she knew that independence sometimes means loneliness but she learns soon enough as loneliness becomes her constant companion. Her only grandson never calls, in fact nobody ever calls her. A fortuitous encounter with a young struggling writer will change her life as she will change his. This beautiful and seemingly simple story is filled with startling gems. Joan Plowright very much at the heart of the piece gives a multi-layered performance that never falls into sentimentality. Rupert Friend (Ludo, the struggling writer) is a perfect foil for the world she protectively stores in her brain and in her heart. The humor and the superb performances by the elderly guests of the hotel is a breath of fresh vintage air. When Ruper Friend meets Dame Joan's friends at the hotel, he exclaims "We're trapped in a Terence Rattigan play" Yes you are, beautifully so