Dillon is Margaret, a Harvard shrink who’s written a bestseller about compulsive behaviour. When a rich-kid client starts waving a gun around, claiming to have incurred a vast debt at a sleazy poker bar called The House of Games, she improbably decides to go down there and sort things out. The denizens are a dimwit Hell’s Angel, a courtly older gent, an obnoxious fatso and Harrington’s stubbly, fag-choffing, fast-talking Mike.
House of Games at Hampstead Theatre review: an efficient, tense piece of work that never quite sings
