It is 1994 and Kurt Cobain, alone in an attic, has the barrel of
a rifle in his mouth. He is about to pull the trigger when in walks a
bloke in a swastika T-shirt who looks very much like Sid Vicious, the Sex Pistols
bassist who died in 1979 of a drugs overdose only weeks after allegedly
murdering his girlfriend. Has the ghost of Sid arisen from the dead? Is
the intruder a crazed fan impersonating the punk
rocker, who was one of Cobain's heroes? Or have the Samaritans taken to
making house calls in fancy dress to potential suicides?
You can make up your own mind over the next hour or so as
Cobain decides whether or not to blow his brains out. Since we all know
that he did, the real fatality of Roy Smiles's play is any dramatic
tension. It does, however, raise the thought that Cobain may have killed
himself in order to escape a figment of his imagination who is boring
him to death. This Vicious has a nasty case of verbal diarrhoea.
There are some sardonic lines to help leaven the evening, although it sometimes feels as if the script was written around the jokes rather than the wit rising organically from the script, but Danny Dyer as Sid and Shaun Evans as Kurt always keep you watching.
In the end, this show has little new to say, and although it points out that most of the deaths of great rock icons were silly accidents, it still buys into the myth of the tortured genius who self-destructs.
There are some sardonic lines to help leaven the evening, although it sometimes feels as if the script was written around the jokes rather than the wit rising organically from the script, but Danny Dyer as Sid and Shaun Evans as Kurt always keep you watching.
In the end, this show has little new to say, and although it points out that most of the deaths of great rock icons were silly accidents, it still buys into the myth of the tortured genius who self-destructs.
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