FringeReview UK 2026

Two Halves of Guinness

Green Room Ents

Genre: Biographical Drama, Comedic, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Short Plays, Solo Play, Theatre

Venue: Park Theatre 200, Finsbury Park

Festival: FringeReview UK

Low Down

Review

“Never watch Star Wars again Sir Alec? Why? It’s the only thing you appear in.” An aggrieved American mother remonstrates with the actor for making that a condition for his orating his Obi-Wan Kenobi speech to a Star-Wars-struck boy. That’s nothing to the put-downs of John Gielgud and Laurence Olivier. Mark Burgess’s 2010 Two Halves of Guinness, revised and expanded, arrives after a tour to  Park Theatre 200. Featuring Zeb Soanes, who in 2024 collaborated with Burgess on that revision, it’s directed by Selina Cadell for Green Room Ents till May 2.

Burgess, who specialises in writing about the stage, has subsequently written another play about Guinness, premiered in 2023: Soldier, Sailor. John Le Carré attempts to allay Guinness’s fears of a spy thriller (“always written by Alan Bennet” Soanes intones) and on TV. Le Carré gets Guinness to meet real MI6 mandarin, the unexpectedly garrulous Sir Maurice Oldfield. That moment’s semaphored into the end of this revision. We start and almost end with Guinness aghast in Star Wars. But happily there’s that smiling sequel. Smiley was another name that made Guinness curl; initially.

That though is nothing to Guinness’s origins: his father, a possible Guinness was the one name his drunken mother kept from the young Alec. Young? She lived to be 95, and for a long time not only partially abandoned Guinness, but didn’t have the grace to stay away, haunting payday at every theatre Guinness never told her he was playing at. It lent a curious vitriol to his 1939 Hamlet’s outburst to Gertrude, his actor wife Merula Salaman pointed out; not quite knowing where such acting came from.

Above all though, it’s Soanes’ inhabiting Guinness and everyone else that compels attention. Even most of the scenery lies in Soanes’ every inflection, gaze, snort and above all voice. There must be around 20 different characters he inflects. Above all one might say that overarching tone: that of Sir Alec Guinness with a verbal (and real) lift of eyebrows. Two hours with interval flies past. You’re genuinely left wanting more and the audience explode. It’s clear that not everyone can see the punchline coming and Soanes, Burgess and Guinness between them like a slightly unholy trinity (more on that) ambush every time.

After that brush with the enraged mother, Soanes then challenges the audience to come up with other films Guinness appeared in. Kind Hearts and Coronets gets a universal mention, Great Expectations, Oliver Twist, The Man in the White Suit, The Lavender Hill Mob, Bridge on the River Kwai (“my first Oscar”), Tunes of Glory, The Ladykillers, Lawrence of Arabia, Dr Zhivago, and we could go on (The Last Holiday is almost forgotten; or The Horse’s Mouth for which screenplay Guinness was Oscar-nominated; which skill helped improve Guinness’ own lines in Star Wars).

And of course (not mentioned) Passage to India: David Lean had come to Guinness’ own 1939 production of Great Expectations, in which Guinness elected to play Herbert Pocket. Guinness never expected Lean, brought by fiancée, actor and screenwriter Kay Walsh. to become the film director who remade that production; and cast Guinness as Pocket. But Lean became a Director. It was never easy between them.

This all comes after Soanes with a conspiratorial lift to his voice shows an unexpected young Guinness: the go-getter, someone who despite shyness took enormous risks out of desperate poverty. He relates how Guinness buttonholed Gielgud into helping him gain a place at RADA. Gielgud swerves this and recommends Martita Hunt, later Miss Havisham for Guinness and Lean. RADA then announces to the arriving Guinness the scholarship is closed unless he can pay (which sounds horribly relevant now), and he enrols elsewhere, then snaffles theatre mangers for jobs. But Gielgud’s not forgotten him.

If the young Guinness shot up very quickly, losing his hair to a production and after acting in Gielgud’s productions including Osric to a great Hamlet, he was soon put down: “My dear boy why try for the big roles when you’re so suited to playing funny little people.” That was matched by a glum Twelfth Night much later helmed by Olivier who once intoned to Guinness in the wings: “I never before realised Malvolio was a bore.”

Lee Newby’s escorché set brings a dingy stage from the 1930s. The 200’s walls are seared and blank: there’s just a set of curtains upstage, a screen, some props, wooden crates draped sometimes with white tablecloths, magically apparating hats and a small rack of clothes. And a hazelnut inspired by Julian of Norwich.  That’s it. All the other props are Soanes’ voice. Lit – often spot-lit – by Michael Fox with snap-light timing, this is a show that glows with incandescent modesty. It’s not otherwise realist:  Eliza Thompson’s sound s almost purely musical soundtracks; and riffs period hits from Billy Mayerl’s ‘Marigold’ through a smattering of Noel Coward: and Rhapsody in Blue for a wartime sojourn in Broadway.

Guinness’s sexuality is touched on, particularly in the war years when as a naval officer he had charge of landing craft (initial procurement is delayed, allowing him to tread Broadway in Rattigan’s Flare Path, which flops there). His later harsh treatment of his wife is brushed in but not dwelt on. And faith. The famous story of Guinness’ being taken for a priest whilst playing Father Brown is treated with a touching truth. It relates a promise he makes to God about his son afflicted with polio. Guinness’ religious feelings are threaded throughout, bringing both humility and on occasion laughter. Still, when considering Lean’s ruthlessness (particularly when dealing with a Japanese actor) Guinness has to own he to can be ruthless too, recruiting something he learns from his son.

Soanes ranges round the set (Didi Hopkins’ movement allows a poised always mobile Soanes), always coming to rest like a column of faded colour. Though fast-forwarding some moments, and eddying back to one or two others, we’re treated to Guinness confiding his story, up to 1980 and that Lifetime Academy Award.

If the first half ends on a superb moment with Fagin (something he badgered Lean into), then the final coup, as Soanes becoming Guinness becoming Smiley in the donning of spectacles and flare of nostrils. This is an outstanding one-man play, and Soanes has delivered one of the half-dozen finest I’ve seen. As a gentle voyage around the frothy half of Guinness we know, and the dark we don’t, it deserves awards, and another tour.

Movement Didi Hopkins, Production Manager Jordan Harris, Production Stage Manager Graham Hookham, Press Chloe Nelkin Consulting

Published May 1, 2026May 1, 2026 by Simon Jenner