In Twenty Eight Millimetres' opening monologue, narrator Ethan recalls the time his older brother, Justin, took him to see The Chungking Express at a $1 cinema. He explains how it is his first memory, rattling off the exact prices of the items they bought, and instils in the audience his adoration for his brother.
It's a short scene yet in my view the defining one. It is not until the play comes to its close some 80 minutes later that you realise how that first scene established all that is good and bad about this play.
Witty, loving dialogue, moving, haunting performances and beautiful production design, it has oodles of potential. Even Sam Brooks' script is hard to fault at heart with its moments of cleverness contrasted by pained monologues at the end. Yet the clash between joy and heartbreak is the work's ultimate undoing as the two emotions never naturally work together; two concepts, two stories, forced into one play.
The main problem here is the characters and, as it is a love story, both in the romantic and familial sense, that's a significant issue. Justin and his lover, Ted, are at the centre of the play, leaving Ethan as a narrator awkwardly on the fringes.
After Ethan's monologue, we follow Justin and Ted through the years as their relationship deepens and their true selves are revealed (at least, Justin's true self). Despite being played with charm by Geordie Holibar, Ted is never given much to do but be in love.
