I'm Sorry Prime Minister

Of all the television comedies of yesteryear, Yes Minister and its sequel have arguably aged the finest of them all. Noted for its razor-sharp satire and ever relevant commentary, Jonathan Lynn and the late Antony Jay's depiction of the tumultuous goings on in the world of politics follows the career of the iconic Jim Hacker. From co-creator Jonathan Lynn comes the final chapter in the storied series. I'm Sorry Prime Minister is at the Arts Theatre in Cambridge until the 23rd of May before continuing its UK tour.

In a departure from the familiar offices of the original series, I'm Sorry takes place in the quiet residence of Jim Hacker, the former prime minister who is now the master of the college named after him. Confronted by aging, a changing world and the reveal of skeletons in the closet, Hacker is forced to reunite with his old permanent secretary Sir Humphrey Appleby in an attempt to save his job, whilst also taking on a new care worker, the irreverent and intelligent Sophie. Over the course of the play, these three characters reminisce, learn and discuss a wealth of topics in the political minefield that exists today.

Designed by Lee Newby and filled out by Leo Flint's video design, this fleshed out set serves as an unassuming backdrop to the conversations played out in it and feels very tangible in bringing the audience into the scene. Ben and Max Ringham provide complementary music that is very much in theme as we transition through scenes.

At the helm is Jonathan Lynn, the surviving creator of Yes Minister, taking on directorial duties as well as writing. Lynn captures the spirit of the original series while never feeling trapped in the past. Balancing nostalgia whilst still feeling relevant is no easy task and Lynn's involvement is key to getting the tone right. I was sceptical that the play would rely on old man tropes and fall quickly to jokes about being woke, and so I was pleasantly surprised when that was not the case. Much of Hacker and Humphrey's political incorrectness never comes from a black and white back in my day belief, and instead stems from a more oblivious experience. It is incredibly refreshing to see a revival of an older property update itself to create comedy that feels modern whilst keeping a hold of its identity. The comedy remains razor-sharp and full of off-handed snipes, particularly between the two leads, and is incredibly smart in being relevant and reflective whilst never targeting specific parties or people. Sporadic moments of physical comedy were an unexpected pocket of laughter, especially surprising coming from two actors over seventy years old.

On the other side of the coin is the remarkable dialogue that explores more sensitive themes with a deft hand. Morality and legacy play a big part in this final chapter, and the conversation about two formerly prominent figures feeling left behind is an intriguing thread that unfolds throughout. Equally well handled are the discussions around immigration, language and privilege. With Sophie being a black, gay woman, self-referred to as ticking all the boxes, she provides a pivotal representation of the world that the older characters are reluctant to accept. Sophie provides a fascinating counterpoint that adds a vital voice to the conversations, preventing them from becoming a duologue about the good old days. Most importantly, Sophie is never played as purely the other side. She makes cases from her own experience and is very clear that she does not speak for everyone.