Review: JEEVES & WOOSTER IN PERFECT NONSENSE, Salisbury Playhouse

Crumbling schools, councils declaring themselves bankrupt, cancelled trains, polluted waterways and problems getting health appointments. These are troubled times and we’re in a nonsensical world.

If you feel you can’t take anymore, I recommend you forget the whole bally lot and book tickets for Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense at Salisbury Playhouse. Where you can sit back and enjoy a riotous evening that’s guaranteed to chase the blues away.

This version of PG Wodehouse’s 1938 novel, The Code of the Woosters, has been deftly crafted by brothers Robert and David Goodale. First performed in 2013, the play starred Matthew Macfadyen and Stephen Mangan, scooping up an Olivier award for best new comedy.

The joyous farce then toured nationally and internationally (I’d love to know what audiences in Mumbai made of it), with some performances withdrawn due to the pandemic. Luckily for UK theatre-goers, it’s back for the month of September in Salisbury, followed by October at the Octagon Theatre in Bolton.

The play-within-a-play plot orbits around Bertie Wooster (an engaging and deliciously over-the-top Luke Barton), who decides to put on a show relating his experiences at country manor Totleigh Towers. He enlists the help of his valet Jeeves and Seppings, the butler of Bertie’s aunt.

As well as portraying himself, Jeeves indefatigably plays silver collector and magistrate Sir Watkyn Bassett, Sir Bassett’s soppy daughter Madeline, newt lover Gussie Fink-Nottle and Stiffy Byng, conniving ward and niece of Sir Bassett. Patrick Warner inhabits all these roles with gusto. He’s particularly side-splitting as Fink-Nottle, with a speech impediment where he struggles to pronounce his R’s. And he brings the house down in a vigorous performance in the second act where he pretends to be the irascible Bassett and Byng at the same time.

Meanwhile, Alistair Cope’s Seppings isn’t idle either. He plays himself, while also picking up the roles of Bertie’s Aunt Dahlia – it’s hilarious seeing bearded Seppings in a plaid suit and ginormous pink bow – baddie and aspiring dictator Roderick Spode, Constable Oates, Butterfield, Basset’s genial butler; and an antique shop owner.

There’s no point trying to explain the plot, as the plot really doesn’t matter. It does involve, however, Aunt Dahlia trying to get her hands on a silver cow creamer, Bertie avoiding marriage to Madeline, Fink-Nottle longing to be married to Madeline, Spode being generally evil, Wooster getting into various Wooster-ish scrapes and clever Jeeves saving him.

The play-within-a-play structure breaks down the fourth wall, to the delight of the audience, several of whom look like they’d be very much at home at Blandings on a fulltime basis. Wooster kicks off by saying, “I thought we said 7.30 for 8,” which immediately gets the whole auditorium on side.

Jeeves then explains that the props, screens, wooden bookcases and marquetry flooring “are called scenery, Sir, suitable representations to locations”. 

Such meta references to how everything operates on stage combines well with the low-tech props and slapstick stunts. Wooster’s visit to a Turkish bath is conveyed by someone spraying him with water from a plastic bottle, and a journey in his two-seater car encompasses a Cotswold poster and various sound effects from a cow bell, bird caller and triangle on a drinks trolley.

Wodehouse’s spirit is imbued in the piece, with wonderful phrases such as “the sort of eye that could open an oyster at 60 paces” and “the news hit me like one, who picking daisies on a railway, catches the 4.15 in the back”.

All three actors are incredibly energetic in this farce of idiotic innocence, aided by skilled direction from Marieke Audsley, who makes the impeccable comedy timing appear effortless.

A well-planned set and outrageous costumes by Olivia du Monceau add to the insouciant atmosphere of the evening, Jane Lallijee’s lighting is excellent and sound design from Matt Eaton simply sublime.

Frankly, everyone behind the scenes deserves a mention for keeping this lively show zipping along. Costume supervisor Marina Diamantidi, wardrobe manager Teri Buxton and dresser Katie Gape should be applauded for the multiplicity of quick-fire costume changes; and props supervisor Jennifer Hunter for keeping track of everything.

The glorious thing about this production is that everything’s rosy and chucklesome, a glorious escape from reality. When Wooster asks Jeeves in the closing moments: “Have we got to do all of this tomorrow, Sir?” Jeeves’s reply is, “I’m afraid so, Sir”. I’m afraid you have to. For the sanity of the nation, what-ho.

Jeeves & Wooster in Perfect Nonsense runs at Salisbury Playhouse until September 23

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

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