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Contents: October 16, 1999:
Stephen Mangan, Geraldine McEwan, Monica Dolan are the devilish family in "Hay Fever." (Photo: photo John Haynes)
(1)Noel Coward's "Hay Fever" at the Savoy.
(2)Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Earnest" at the Haymarket.
"Hay Fever"
Noel Coward was quite revolutionary in the 1920's and 30's, challenging conventional morality and the social structure. He later caved in, decided to make money and became very conservative, attacking new wave playwrights Osborne and Pinter as rubbish. But "Hay Fever," deliciously directed by Declan Donnellan, was written in 1924, when Coward was 25 and still of a mind to skewer the ruling classes.
By Noel Coward, directed by Declan Donnellan
Produced by Duncan C. Weldon, Allan S. Gordon, Bill Haber, Ira Pittelman, Elian V. McAllister, Emanuel Azeenberg
Savoy Theatre, Strand (Charing Cross)
171 836 8888
Opened June 9, 1999
Closed
Reviewed by Lucy Komisar September 7, 1999It is as if the high-ceilinged British country manor house with wood-paneled walls, red and gold velvet wallpaper, and high aristocratic arches had been inhabited by the Adams family witches. Except they are called, ironically, Bliss. This is not simply a collection of well-meaning but slight dotty upper class wastrels. In Donnellan's moody vision, there is a distinct whiff of decadence and a hint of cruelty and malevolence in their eccentricity and bad manners.
Judith Bliss (Geraldine McEwan) was an actress, as we see in the brief reprise of "Love's Whirlwind," a brilliantly corny melodrama she starred in, which deals with dark sexual secrets and includes lines such as: "Don't strike, he is your father!" Donnellan moves the play within a play from later in the script to its opening, perhaps to set the stage for the family who can't separate theatrics from life.
Back at the manse, Judith Bliss does what any well-bred upper class madam would do: "Mother is in garden practicing learning the names of the flowers by heart." Red flowers are somebody's name. "Astors. I knew it was somebody opulent," she says.
Her husband David (Peter Blythe) is a self-involved, sometimes nasty novelist who cares little about anything but the dog. He, like the rest of the brood, has no manners. He opens a banana by smashing it against a coffee table.
The plot hinges on the fact that mother, father and their spoiled grown children, Sorel (Monica Dolan) and Simon (Stephen Mangan), have each, unbeknownst to the others, invited guests for the weekend. The manor is just not big enough for the lot of them.
There's a parody of self-conscious, even decadent sex. Simon declares, "Smooth my hair in your soft white hands." He gives his sister a kiss on the eyes and a sexual hug.
The family's behavior plays against the ordinariness of the guests.
There's well-meaning Sandy Tyrell (Scott Handy), a young fan of Judith's, who's fallen in love with her stage character. And callous Myra Arundel (Sylvestra Le Touzel), her black and white outfit as loud as her cackling voice. Also chirpy Jackie Coryton (Cathryn Bradshaw), sweet, naive bright wide-eyed and lower middle class. And the diplomat Richard Greatham (Malcolm Sinclair) a beautiful study of an old-fashioned envoy making genteel conversation when its not appropriate and blown totally out of his depth by applying his code. The former British ambassador who accompanied me to the production remarked gleefully, "I can think of some of my colleagues exactly like that!" They will all be brought low and terrified by the family.
The Bliss's like to dress up in evening clothes and play games that involve acting out words and sentences. The sport doesn't mask their underlying hostility and their catty, nasty, utterly rude manners. The games were inspired by Coward's visit to New York where he'd been a guest at the Riverside Drive house of Laurette Taylor and Hartley Manners who apparently they liked such games. They often fought over the rules and abandoned their guests while they sulked upstairs.
The Bliss's confuse their games with their lives. Greatham's face falls in horror as Judith rolls over him on the couch. Getting into the spirit, he kisses her on the neck, to which she responds dramatically, "David must be told everything. I wonder how he'll take it?" McEwan's performance here and throughout is delightfully over the top.
When Sorel tells Sandy, "None of us ever means anything," it's half an apology but also a damning indictment. Myra accuses them of being artificial to the point of lunacy, and at one point Simon starts gibbering as if he's crazy.
Donnellan's production is campy and physical, almost slapstick, with lots of body language, hitting, disporting on the drawing room couch and racing around through the audience. It reaps its underlying power from the fact that it is strongly political. The upper class he paints is not lovably eccentric but almost sinister in its abuse of others. The cast is superb, especially McEwan as Judith, and Monica Dolan and Stephen Mangan as the amoral, insouciant daughter and son.[Komisar]
"The Importance of Being Earnest"
Christopher Morahan resurrects Oscar Wilde's old chestnut to throw cream puffs at the snobbish, hypocritical upper classes, painting them as rather precious, if harmless, barnacles on society. The actors are bright and charming and Morahan's direction lively, yet it all somehow lacks bite.
By Oscar Wilde, directed by Christopher Morahan
Produced by Duncan C. Weldon and the Chichester Festival Theatre
Theatre Royal Haymarket, Haymarket (Piccadilly Circus)
171 930 8800
Opened August 4, 1999
Closes November 6, 1999
Reviewed by Lucy Komisar September 22, 1999The young male deceivers, lazy Algernon Moncrieff (Alan Cox) and earnest John Worthing (Adam Godley), are to be indulged and chortled at, even as Algie's servant replies to his query, "Did you hear what I was playing, Lane?" with "I didn't think it polite to listen."
The grande dame, Lady Bracknell, effusively played by Patricia Routledge, is domineering but well-meaning, and her daughter Gwendolen (Saskia Wickham) is appealing but practical. Shorn of any political commentary, the satirical piece that delighted London audiences in 1895 is amusing but dated today. It's more about Wilde's acerbic idea about marriage and the battle between men and women than a critique of the snobbery of the upper classes.
Algy, a wastrel who spends his time drinking and going to his club, gets out of undesirable engagements by claiming he must attend the sickbed of his imaginary friend Bumbrey. His real friend John, who is engaged to Gwendolen, appears more upstanding, except he also has a few secrets. On his country estate lives his ward Cecily. When he goes to London, he tells her it's to visit his wayward brother Earnest. His friends in London don't know about Cecily. They think his name is Earnest.
Their lives are thrown into disarray when Gwendolen remarks that she could never marry her beau if his name was not Earnest. Worse, Lady Bracknell is perturbed because Earnest/John can't tell her who his parents were. It seems he was found in a handbasket in the cloakroom of Victoria Station. Wilde picked that up, while on holiday with his family, from a news clipping in the local "Worthing Gazette."
This play is replete with Wildean wit. When the doorbell rings, Algy says, "It must be Aunt Augusta. Only relatives or creditors ring in that Wagnerian manner."
And Algy (really Wilde) rebukes: "All women become like their mothers, that's their tragedy; no man does, that's his."
There's also some good-natured tweaking of their snobbery and shallowness. When Gwendolen meet's John's ward Cecily, the young lady tells her, "When I see a spade, I call it a spade. To which Gwen replies, "I am happy to say I've never seen a spade; our social spheres are different."
Pompous Augusta, in purple outfit and hat with black plumes, exudes dismay when John admits his patronymic comes from Worthing, the seaside resort. Lady Bracknell comments acerbically on John's losing his parents, "To lose one is regarded as a misfortune, to lose two is carelessness." And she advises him to acquire some relatives; what matters is appearances. Gwen agrees that, "In matters of grave importance, style not sincerity is the vital thing."
Routledge, like her character, dominates with her presence when she is on stage. Alan Cox is cynical and picaresque as Algy, and Adam Godley shows the appropriately careless diffidence as Jack. Saskia Wickham is a perky combination of directness and flirtatious, very much her mother's daughter.
Director Christopher Morahan has fitted the green and yellow rose garden with an imaginary croquet game, complete with sound, and played the sugar and cake conflict between Gwendolen and Cecily for slapstick.
Britain's Queen Mother, on the occasion of her 99th birthday this fall, saw a performance with her daughters, and all reportedly enjoyed it, which is a pretty good indication of how toothless the satire is.[Komisar]
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