Sophisticated froth and frivolity
BRITTLE and brilliant as a piece of Lalique crystal, this sophisticated comedy by Noel Coward keeps its audience in a state of amused curiosity as it sweeps toward its more or less satisfactory conclusion with many a twist and turn through a labyrinth of intrigue. Despite a larger-than-average cast, it creates the illusion of a one-hander since the central character, Gary Essendine (for whom read Coward himself) relentlessly dominates the action; but as he is articulate and extremely witty this is a strength rather than a weakness.
The show is stylish to its fingertips, with all the meticulous attention to detail which characterises Abrahamse’s direction. Set in the late 1930s, everything – costumes, set, accessories and props – reflect the aesthetic of the age, and every cast member, with the exception of the servants, musters the clipped accents of the English upper and middle class of that period. Sir Noel would have felt at home.
Timing is of the essence in a comedy like Present Laughter as it flirts with farce and, here too, direction is irreproachable. What lifts it above the triviality of farce, however, is the scintillating dialogue, described with reason by Coward’s biographer Phillip Hoare as “adroit”. In the progressive collapse of his carefully ordered, self-indulgent little world, Essendine engages distantly with those around him, obsessed with his personal wellbeing to the extent that one wonders what his besotted admirers see in him. This lack of warmth is contagious and has people speaking at each other rather than to each other, however high their emotional temperature may rise: even when a lover aghast at betrayal, or a husband enraged at infidelity ventilate their reactions, there is a curious sense of detachment that allows one to enjoy the rapier-sharp repartee.
Casting is astute, with Ryecart’s magisterial lead generously supported by Normington as the subtly controlling not-quite-ex-wife, Maxwell as the longsuffering, but unbowed secretary and Franco as the flamboyant femme fatale with the morals of a tapeworm.
The show is full of gems from actors in secondary roles, notably Maytham (the aggrieved, but less than blameless husband), Skye Russell (the mindless, but determined socialite) and Dean Roberts (the efficient but discreetly judgemental valet). Da Silva carries off two vastly different roles (charlady and aristocrat) with aplomb. Matthew Baldwin treats his outré persona, an obtrusive aspirant playwright, with suitable overstatement.
For all its froth and frivolity, Present Laughter is grounded by its perspective on the male mid-life crisis and the ephemeral nature of thoughtless promiscuity. This explains the longevity of its acclaim, undiminished after eight decades.