STAGE REVIEW: Abigail’s Party - at the Festival Theatre, Malvern, from Monday, April 17 to Saturday, April 22, 2017.

CUE the plates of cheese and pineapple hedgehogs, the peanuts and oodles of booze, along with a group of neighbours who have precious little in common other than living nearby.

As the drink takes hold through every cringeworthy moment, so animosity comes to a head!

This, after all, is the party from yesteryear celebrating its own 40th anniversary - although the real party, a teenage rave, is happening elsewhere in the same Essex road while Abigail’s genteel, church-mouse of a mother, has been invited round to ‘enjoy’ a night with the neighbours.

Abigail's often alluded to but never seen. Mum Sue (Rose Keegan) phones her as the music from down the road gets louder and two of the adult gathering meander past the action to ensure all is in order.

Mike Leigh’s wonderfully astute look at life behind the curtains of suburbia, a la 1977, would appear to have lost none of its popularity, considering how often it has been performed, and neither have the characters lost any of their embarrassing traits.

It’s all so gloriously ghastly and seemingly timeless in spite of the years that have passed.

The adults ‘party’ is painful as our fawning hostess, all false airs and graces, forces the cheesy bites and cigarettes, plus the drinks, on her guests in order to offset the gathering’s continuing failure to spark and also to disguise continuing the failings in her marriage.

Beverly is brilliantly portrayed by Amanda Abbington of Sherlock fame, to the point where it seemed it was every bit as good as the original iconic Beverly performance of Alison Steadman - witnessed both on television and stage several times in the past four decades.

Banalities and platitudes fill the air in a dialogue that is delightful for a stage play but would surely see a deaf ear or two, and the cold shoulder at least, being so dreary were they to be uttered at a real life party.

Ben Caplin excels as Beverly’s full of angst husband Laurence, while Charlotte Mills and Ciaran Owens are a splendid odd couple - the giggly and quietly manipulative Angela and flirty husband Tony - who happily and lazily disregards anything with more than syllable.

Enduring and endearing, in a perverse sort of way, this fresh look at a classic play is without doubt still considerably cruel but also funny. There’s little doubt this party will continue to linger around a lot longer.