A comedy of (bad) manners featuring a superciliously solipsistic family with an air of perceived grandiosity which belies an enormous inferiority complex, headed by a drama queen matriarch, who actually hates being a mother. Misbehaving posh, privileged folk is meat and drink for the master of mockery Noël Coward. Hay Fever (Wyndham’s Theatre) is the play in a production directed by Emily Burns which invites you to sit back, relax and enjoy the outrageous shenanigans of the wonderfully bonkers Bliss family who live in a gorgeous country estate far from the madding crowd; ironically the madness here far exceeds anything the hoi polloi can muster. Judith is that mother (Christine Baranski), a recently retired stage actress for whom everyday life is a melodrama and while she regales in all of that reclusive husband David (Richard E. Grant) hides away writing novels. Their two spoilt brat, self absorbed thirty something children, Simon (Will Close) and Sorrel (Ophelia Lovibond), are up to all sorts, as long as they get what they want when they want it. The household is completed by sardonic housekeeper Clara, Judith’s loyal former dresser.
Craving excitement to relieve their ennui, the calamitous clan secretly invite a personal prospective romantic interest to the house for a fun weekend. The unfortunate quartet walking into this household of dysfunctional disrepute are Sorel’s dapper diplomat Richard Greatham (Charles Edwards), Simon’s deliciously teasing Myra Arundel (Nancy Carroll), the slow-witted, and young, Jackie Coryton (Lucy Karczewski) for David’s amusement and last but not least Judith’s number one fan, the dashing, and dumb, Sandy. What could possibly go wrong?
The guests arrive intermittently, greeted by Carla, whose expression is a cross between acceptance and annoyance. Jackie and Richard’s joint arrival is particularly amusing as the diplomat’s awkwardness is matched by the scatterbrained young flapper who with one look and gesture makes the poor man lose his poise. Once they are all in situ the Bliss snobs revert to type leaving their guests alone, an act of habitual ignorance which leaves them in a state of limbo, only for the crackpots to reemerge and proclaim their love and adoration. Though not to the one they invited.
Coward’s writing brilliantly captures the gaiety and carefree lifestyle and in doing so reveals the personality disorders that lie just below the surface, with a script awash with satirical wit. Bohemian behaviour that knows no bounds and is frightfully funny. Frankie Bradshaw’s set (and costumes) embraces the ostentatiousness and glittering aesthetics of the Roaring ‘20’s and jazz-age decadence, sumptuous blue and cream furniture, gold fringed drapes, crystal chandeliers and flock wallpaper which includes various posters of Judith in her prime. Burns directs with a light touch allowing the pace and silliness to spin out naturally with outstanding performances by a cast who gel beautifully. It is camp farce at its finest.
Judith’s melodramatic, over the top pronouncements and theatrical sighs dominate and Baranski has the delightful demeanour of a frustrated diva with quips and facial expressions executed with on point timing. She wafts around in a haute couture gown quipping as she goes. To her son Simon about Myra, “She’s far too old for you, and she goes about using sex as a sort of shrimping net,” and to both her children, “Anyone would think I was 80 the way you go on. It was a great mistake not sending you to boarding schools, and you coming back, and me being your elder sister.” Though I have to say my favourite, and this probably has something to do with an irreverent upbringing, is when she warns Sorrel who’s thinking of taking her guest punting, “I don’t want you going anywhere near that punt.”
That is not to say the other oddballs don’t get their moment in the sun. Charmer Grant (Editor’s note: now an openly declared traitor…oops!) has a hilariously petulant fit of pique when questioned about his writing, while the two offspring (plum portrayals) display consistently annoying behavioural traits worthy of clipped toned twits with only the excellent Nancy Carroll as Myra bringing a sense of decorum and honesty to the mayhem.
The last time I saw the play was over twenty-five years ago and it remains light and frothy escapist fun. A friend described Coward as a “fabulous wordsmith” but he is much more than that. This is the kind of madness we all need right now to distract us from the apparently sane folk controlling our lives.
Hay Fever – www.hayfeverplay.com
Photo credit: Marc Brenner