A few simple remarks in lieu of a full review.
Because I'm thinking of writing one, my main interest in reading this volume was to see how Michael Frayn handled farces, of which there are two here. Maybe that predisposed me against the others; in any case, though the remaining three are pretty clearly comic, they didn't work on the page nearly as well. Alphabetical Order is a neat dissection of two broad approaches to handling the world, as illustrated by the workings of the library (known to some in the States as the morgue) of a provincial newspaper under two different hands. Clouds seems to me nearly as evanescent as the object of its title; it presents two Brits and a Yank exploring, and apparently failing really to see, 70s-era Cuba. And Make and Break shows us the vicissitudes of a British manufacturing team trying to make something happen--mostly of a business nature--at a German trade show. Its main character, a man who's more compulsive than genuinely driven, is a fascinating case, I admit.
Probably all three have more appeal on the stage--where I gather they succeeded, though I didn't check many reviews--or even if read with a more active imagination than I seem to have marshaled. What's surprising is that the farces almost immediately took off and played themselves out in the theater of my mind, despite having a larger and more complex cast of characters than any of the other plays.
Donkeys' Years relies on a classic situation, the college reunion, which in this case involves an unnamed men's college, 20 years after everyone was last here together. There's a woman in the mix, whom everyone used to be hot for, and therefore still is, though she's now the college master's wife. There's also a good range of classes and types (including the man no one remembers). And, beyond the farcical developments (people and clothes ending up where they shouldn't be), which as always take some time to set up, there are other kinds of comedy. If I had Bill Gates's billions--which even Bill Gates doesn't have anymore, having put most of it into his goody-goody foundation--I'd subsidize a production of this play just so I could see it on a stage. (I know a good stage comedy wouldn't help the sufferers of malaria much, but it'd make me feel better about them.) Otherwise, it's hard to imagine it being done in the States: "too foreign," I suppose.
Noises Off, on the other hand, has been done in the States, but I've never managed to see it and wondered whether the raves I had heard could possibly be correct. They are: this is one of the great comedies. And if anything has ever deserved to be called ingenious, it's this. A troupe of players, not the best of their breed, is setting out to perform a sex farce that's a little beyond them; we see it as well as everything that happens backstage, thanks to a perspective change between the acts. Among other things, this is a comedy about how hard it is to do comedies well (I hope you've all heard Edmund Gwenn's supposed dying line), and when it is done well, it must be a marvel. More broadly, it's about how easily things go wrong. To say any more about it seems either unnecessary or sacrilegious.