%20and%20Elyot%20Mark%20Plastow)%20remember%20life's%20not%20quite%20that%20easy.jpeg)
Back in the old
routine: runaways Amanda (Ruth Herd) and Elyot Mark Plastow) remember
life's not quite that easy. Pictures: Peter Weston/Talisman Theatre.
Private Lives
Talisman Theatre, Kenilworth
*****
Recently I stuck my neck out by suggesting that
Noël Coward’s Present Laughter, which originally won countless
awards plus the highest critical acclaim, and has just been seen in a
perfectly presentable production at The Loft Theatre in Leamington,
isn’t nearly as good a play as it’s made out to be.
Partly because it’s dated, but’s that’s not a
very fair or appropriate line of attack: but because the content, thing
to muse upon, the insights of the text are, well, next to nothing.
Maybe I’m getting my come-uppance: Noël
Coward: Art and Style has just opened at London’s Guildhall Art
Gallery, and runs till Christmas. There is a Noël Coward Archive Trust (www.noelcoward.com/noel-coward-room)
in central London, with additional collections at the Universities of
Birmingham and Bristol, as well in the USA at Harvard and New York.
Indeed, one tribute, indeed an accolade, the
Trust mentions up front is from ‘modern’ playwright John Osborne, no
less: ‘Mr. Coward is his own invention and contribution to this century.
The 20th century would be incomplete without Noël Coward. He was, quite
simply, a genius.’
Theatrical success continues: there was a
successful UK touring production of Private Lives in 2021/22,
starring Nigel Havers and Patricia Hodge; and another in 2013 at
London’s Gielgud Theatre starring Toby Stephens and Anna Chancellor.
It's clear Coward’s plays are still very much in
the public eye. And this admirably fresh and alive staging at The
Talisman in Kenilworth perhaps showed why they should be.
The script is essentially a foursome (plus a
French maid); and one has nothing but praise for the acting, the
two-stages set and, maybe most notably, Jill Laurie’s adroit, perceptive
direction, the last particularly of course for the detailed and varied
moves, but partly also for the wonderful differentiation of characters
(along with the actors’ deft invention and ingenuity), the manner of
their begrudging or, in the two naiver cases, puzzled and mystified
speaking, the incredibly well-judged (and quite fast) speed, and – well
– for quite a lot.
It’s additionally pleasing news that the Talisman
is undergoing a pretty substantial revamp, three years after the 50th
anniversary of its move to the present site; the whole theatrical
venture having been running for almost 80 years.
British premieres and new works have formed part
of its often nine-a-season repertoire; and it sports a satisfying Youth
Theatre. All this flourishes under the new Artistic Director, Steve
Smith. No one could accuse it of being moribund.
%20spies%20from%20next%20door%20on%20Sibyl%20(Mary%20Dunn)%20and%20Elyot%20(Mark%20Plastow).jpeg)
Amanda (Ruth Herd) spies from next door
on Sibyl (Mary Dunn) and Elyot (Mark Plastow)
The whole play focuses on two couples, who fall
out of love and in love with the other’s partner. Every character
(actually five, not four) was superbly spoken: lucid, alluring, not a
word hidden or lost. First class, in fact.
The opening dwells on the fragmenting between the
very assured, dismissive and habitually crushing Elyot Chase (Mark
Plastow) and his enthralled, doting but rapidly, effortlessly ousted
wife Sibyl (Mary Dunn)
Actually that first scene here set the evening’s
standard. Her irritating passion, almost maniacal ardour and obsession
is enough to drive Elyot to drink; their twosome is vividly acted, with
Elyot’s constantly changing facial twists and writhings, severe,
unforgiving, judgemental eyes, even wrenching eyebrows, perfectly
preparing the way for the betrayal and marital swapping that will
shortly follow.
Only recently married, he is frustrated and
frazzled, and the more Sibyl asks ‘Are you glad you married me?’ the
less enthralled he grows. sees clearly, on this up-market Deauville
honeymoon, that it was a mistake. Rather, he is falling once again for
his ex- Amanda Prynne; and she for him.
Poor Sibyl is of course deeply upset, dismayed
and downhearted, flustered and has no idea how to rectify the situation
and keep Elyot, indeed keep him at all interested in her. All of this
the homely, weepy Mary Dunn handles all of this really affectingly. As
she feels sad and confused, so we feel for her and with her. A lesser
performance might not have worked. Sibyl could be merely tedious, but
Dunn’s cuddly, adoring newly married is not. Her situation and state are
involving. Sibyl (and later her supporter, if not quite acquisition, the
rather dour, wet Victor) appears less onstage than the main pair.
Perhaps Coward, in the four days in 1930 he contrived to write the text,
should not have pruned her so much.
The reason is that the Second Act consists
entirely of – and this is wholly admirable and remarkable, a masterpiece
of scripting –a twosome between Elyot and Amanda, both of whom have
abandoned their spouses. It is indeed a tour-de-force for both of them,
and Ruth Herd, whose Amanda has made quite a feisty impact already in
Act One (she, like Plastow, has a never-ending range of faces, shrugs,
fast-shifting moods and relishing of brief, rapidly terminateNow, in Act
Two, comfortably ensconced in an apartment in Paris, they make a fine,
indeed a perfect matched, model combative pair. Each gives as good as he
(she) gets. Punches are not pulled. A prominent sofa is used at a range
of well-honed moments, variously collapsed upon, in frustration, anger
or challenge, or by contrast an affable brief dance, all rather clever
and imaginative, the pacing and flow perfectly and miraculously timed by
director Jill Laurie. d rows), comes up with sharpness, wit, cynicism
and intermittent malevolence which is matched at every turn by Plastow’s
Elyot (a curious spelling; the only example I could find was a
celebrated English scholar and diplomat from the early 16th century).
%20and%20Victor%20(Will%20Thomas).jpeg)
Sizing up - Elyot (Mark Plastow) and
Victor (Will Thomas)
Quite frankly, this longish, indeed quite
strenuous, double-hander was a treat. Not a dull moment. Never for a
second flailed or drooped. But it also gave set designer Tim Eden the
chance to open up the already rather seaside Act One set not only into
something very impressive (an ample, quite luxurious lounge or sitting
room), but one that was beautifully colour coordinated.
Magenta can mean quite a number of different
things, but this was of the medium pinkish kind, and curtains, sofa with
its cushions, chair-cushions, and other features were given this same
rich and attractive colour. A treat for the eye (sometimes for
throwing), but also an asset to the unfolding: exquisite hangings, wild
goings-on.
Even Elyot’s dressing gown (a bit like a suave
smoking-jacket) matches. The music, some emanating from an old horn
gramophone, was presumably essentially Coward, and kept lullingly and
rather beautifully at low volume by sound editor/recordist Colin Thomas,
was enchanting. (He wrote ‘Some Day I’ll Find You’ specifically for this
play.) All credit.
How to light alluringly and imaginatively,
especially given the largely unaltering indoor location of Acts Two and
Three, provides always a frustrating dilemma, as it did here for Peter
Weston. Perhaps keeping it simple is the answer. Most of the evening was
yellow-lit, and one ached for something more, some variety.
When the maid opens the curtains to let the
morning in, surely the effect of (what could be an unlit) indoors should
be quite noticeably altered. At one place in Act Two where a change, I
imagine to more white, did occur, it was a nicely imagined touch and a
welcome relief. Maybe one needed more such skilled adjustments.
Another doubt: the only tangible criticism of
Plastow’s Elyot is that he tucks his hands, or just one hand, into his
pocket (trouser, jacket, DJ, dressing gown, etc.) too much: an old
actors’ deficiency, relieving them of the frequent, understandable
dilemma of what to do with them. A bit of a swizz really, as he clearly
has the creative gift and talent.
Hands need, indeed could have been, used more
evocatively to express. Something missed. By strong contrast, arms
folded, however, and especially his artful deployment of his (not quite)
chain-smoking cigarettes is constantly original and varied. In a sense,
masterly. Amanda proves a skilled shrewd cigarette deployer too.
To be honest, that reservation partly applies to
Will Thomas’s Victor, Amanda’s defeated husband. Victor (the role was
created by a 23-year-old Laurence Olivier) has perhaps the least
opportunity of the four, and maybe the fact that he was more than a bit
of a wet rag is you a large degree a fault of Coward’s under-sketching
the part, or failure to map out something more substantial (hence upping
the character).
It’s an attenuated role, and maybe for that
reason a little thankless. Will Thomas, enhanced by an attractive,
light, slightly tenorish - or at least high baritone – voice – attracts
even by that alone.
.jpeg)
The French maid Louise, played with
splendid Parisienne indifference bordering on insolence by Sarah
McCaffrey
However, to offset Elyot’s excessive pockets, he
offers us hands by his sides, kind of formal but not really, and this
left one looking, perhaps aching, for a chunk more personality. Of
course, he too is excluded from Act Two, which denies him the
opportunity to develop and even blossom. Although a nice little
soliloquy in Act Three – Victor to Amanda; ’I’ll let you divorce me’: a
notable act of generosity – Thomas’s Victor gave rather a good showing.
And the costumes? Rosemary Gowers, i/c that
department, achieved wonders, I must imagine (not sure) from the
Talisman’s own costumes collection. The outfits changes were a treat.
The girls came out on top, quite naturally. Two or three ample, part
flowery dresses, one an attractive green, for Sibyl. A stunning maroon
outfit on which we feasted upon one of Amanda’s appearances. They really
were the tops.
And she keeps that splendid, feisty, slyly domineering personality
throughout: ‘A man’s job is to allure a woman’. His counter (to her
demand ‘Take that back’: ‘I’ll take back anything, anything as long as
you stop bellowing at me.’ ‘ You’re a bad tempered, wicked woman.’
‘You’re nothing but a rampaging gasbag.’ And she unforeseenly volunteers
‘I’m a bad lot.’ Amanda’s mouth is as quick-changing as his. Again,
imaginative.
I firmly expected the pairs to swap back again at
the end; of course I was wrong; and it would certainly have been
unrealistic. But by not going down that path, Coward makes (it seemed)
for a rather limp ending.
In a way it made sense; after all their rows,
spats, feuds and ding-dongs, that Amanda and her old flame Elyot stick
to their guns I guess seems logical. But then the play lacks a what the
Greeks called peripeteia; a sudden collapse of denouement that turns
expectation flat on its head. But I didn’t feel Act Three, entertaining
but more limp, really pointed, adequately or sufficiently, in that
direction.
However, there was one marvellous bonus. The
black-dressed, impertinent French maid, Louise (Sarah McCaffrey), was a
delicious hoot. She has just two appearances – vignettes, really -
fussing about coffee, being obnoxiously impertinent (but very funny – a
bit of a classic touch), then clanking cups and saucers flouncily and
outrageously. Very slickly acted, in so short a space a refined showing
on a par with all the others. This kind of small role diversion so often
makes a disproportionate impact in a play (Canon Chasuble, or
Shakespeare’s Porter), and she does so here in the later stages.
With its strikingly effective pacing – Laurie
really whips it along, so it never wearies - all in all, a palpable hit
for The Talisman, and a resoundingly enjoyable evening at the theatre.
Roderic Dunnett
06-22
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