Reviewed by Barry Lenny, Wednesday 3rd December 2015
Noël Coward's
Hay Fever finds us in the 1920s at the very desirable home of the Bliss family at Cookham, Berkshire, where the matriarch is Judith, an actress now in early retirement, missing her past life and all that went with it, particularly the adoration of handsome young men. To overcome the dullness of living in the country, she has invited a young boxer, Sandy Tyrell, to visit for the weekend, planning a romantic dalliance. Unbeknownst to Judith, her husband, David, a writer of dreadful romantic novels, has invited a rather vacuous young woman, Jackie Coryton, for similarly licentious reasons. To make matters worse, her daughter Sorel and son Simon have each had the same idea, Sorel inviting the considerably older diplomat, Richard Greatham, and Simon inviting a mature, experienced woman, Myra Arundel. Clara, Judith's former dresser and now the family's housekeeper, is run off her feet trying to cope with four unexpected guests, and the general chaos that ensues.
The curtain rises to reveal
Peter McKintosh's set, that looks good enough to be real, a large, wood-panelled, well-appointed room, lots of heavy timbers, and a staircase leading to a second level and a balcony. A French window leads to the garden, passages on both levels lead off to unseen bedrooms and the kitchen, and a door leads off to the library. The impressive furnishings even include a baby grand piano. Needless to say, the period costumes simply oozed style.
The first members of the family whom we encounter are the siblings, Sorel and Simon, played by Alice Orr-Ewing and
Edward Franklin. He fancies himself as an artist, sitting on the floor sketching, and they talk about art, exposing their Bohemian ideas at the same time. When they each reveal that they have invited guests they fight, both wanting the use of the Japanese room for their guest. Orr-Ewing and Franklin give a strong impression of that brother-sister relationship through a combination of superb and complementary individual characterisations and great interaction.
No bookmaker would have been silly enough to have taken bets on whether or not
Felicity Kendal would receive a round of applause at her first entrance. It was a foregone conclusion that, as she flounced onto the stage as
Judith Bliss, her fans would be unable to resist acknowledging her. Judith is not so much an attention seeker as a demander of an audience, and Kendal revels in the role of her overly-theatrical character. Had it not been written ninety years ago, one might almost think the role had been created for her. Kendall is magnificent in the role..
David Bliss, played by
Simon Shepherd, completes this dysfunctional and highly eccentric family. David, too, has an ego the size of a city, absorbed in his own self-importance as an author. Shepherd gives his character a good degree of pomposity, and an air of superiority, with a level of aloofness, and dismissive attitude towards those around him. He is everything that David should be.
Then there are the four guests who, unwillingly and unknowingly, find themselves as an audience and occasional bit players in the Bliss family's performances, for that is what we discover, that the family seems to be playing out an improvised scenario built on past experiences and an un-stated set of rules by which they play. They even play out a scene from one of Judith's past successes. They engage in parlour games without explaining the rules, and with twists and turns that only they know, but the whole thing is a game for their own amusement at the expense of their guests.
James Corrigan, as Sandy Tyrell, offers a fine performance as Judith's infatuated fan, conveying confusion as her interest wanes when he tries to become physical, and transiting to a state of horror as the evening continues, even to a fear of bumping into any of them the following morning.
Myra Arundel is played by
Sara Stewart, who gives her character a sultry, seductive ease in her interactions with the poor unsuspecting men, and a worldliness that makes her the only one who seems to be unfazed by the family's eccentric behaviour, meeting her match only with David's direct approach to the subjectd.
Michael Simkins gives a British 'stiff upper lip' to the diplomatist, Richard Greatham, investing his character with all of the politeness needed to avoid any confrontation, no matter how much the awful manners of the family deteriorate.
The flapper, Jackie Coryton, gives Celeste Dodwell opportunity to show that a blank expression, or a look of bewilderment, can generate as many laughs as a line of Coward's witty dialogue, when done well.
Lisa Armytage has the role of Clara, and makes the most of every moment on stage in this comical character role, grumbling and sarcastic, and slipping into Tea for Two at the end, suggesting that shje might be missing the theatre as much as Judith.
One could not ask for a better evening out. Coward always goes down well with Adelaide audiences, anyway, but to have such a stellar cast, working together so well as an ensemble, each with a well defined character. The Director,
Lindsay Posner, is responsible for so much of what we see, of course, from the casting, to the instilling of the understanding of the era and style of British well-to-do classes in the 1920s, to the work of Coward, and to each small detail. It is a credit to him that this work is so compelling, as it his first time directing a Coward play.
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