“It’s a bold and brassy play that challenges convention, an idea eagerly and rather lovingly picked up by this slick and charming production”
Hear that a play is a Comedy of Manners and you will probably think of the waspish satires of the Reformation, or Oscar Wilde or Noël Coward classics, ripe with artificial plots and witty social commentary.
It is less likely that your mind will race to a work with a distinctly contemporary twist by one of the greatest crime writers of the Golden Age which features a character who may well be based on the writer herself.
The intriguing “Love All” by Dorothy L. Sayers was not a commercial success when it first opened in 1940 with its theme of choosing career or family and the sacrifices women are expected to make and has barely been seen on stage in 80 years.
It’s not hard to see why Jermyn Street Theatre thought it worth reviving the piece with its strong female characters and its tendency to be dismissive of romance in its current Temptation Season. What begins as a familiar and droll drawing room comedy, blossoms into a fun and feisty (one might even say feminist had Sayers herself not so disliked the term) period comedy that never once seems stale or dated.
It’s a bold and brassy play that challenges convention, an idea eagerly and rather lovingly picked up by this slick and charming production. In it a young actress besotted with a romance novelist runs off to Venice with him as he tries to pen his next bestseller about a repentant husband; but his wife, now a successful London playwright, refuses to divorce him. When the young actress hears of an exciting new playwright storming the stage back home, she knows she just has to be in her next hit – even though unaware of her true identity.
Unlike Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey whodunit “Gaudy Night,” in which women are merely tolerated by their male university peers, “Love All” confidently thrusts every one of its female characters into a position of commanding strength and it’s the male characters who come off the worst. The mistress notes that, “Every great man has had a woman behind him,” but the wife responds, “Every great woman has had some man or other in front of her, tripping her up.”
Emily Barber quickly lifts mistress Lydia to a level well beyond the dreamy inamorata unable to cope with her lover’s indecision. If the script itself ever allowed the character to be dreary Barber rapidly brushes it aside in a performance which relishes the fiery role of a good actress unwilling to accept the status quo.
Leah Whitaker, no stranger to the venue, is stupendous in turn as Janet (the nom de plume of Edith), the bored wife unwilling to be stifled by custom or etiquette, least of all by a patronising and colourless man. It’s a character very like Sayers’ fictional detective Harriet Vane, who in turn bore similarities to the author herself, and Whitaker ensures she is likeable and assertive without becoming bossily domineering.
The pair play off each other brilliantly as they grow to understand each other and realise their own happiness is far more important than life with languid chauvinist Godfrey (an assured performance from Alan Cox as the narrow-minded, callous dinosaur who fails to recognise the abilities and humanity of those around him) as they prowl around like lionesses stalking their unfortunate prey.
Karen Ascoe is wonderful in two roles: Judith, the friend in Venice, with the most dazzling array of facial expressions and pauses which speak volumes, and then Stella, the no-nonsense secretary in London.
Bethan Cullinane’s Mary is a careful study of loyalty and devotion, steering through layers of awkwardness and it’s a relief the play avoids what appears to be a predictable ending for a character who has her own strength.
Daniel Burke as actor Michael and Jim Findley as Henry fall into the category here of men who fare badly at the hands of a writer wanting to explore the liberation of women in professional and domestic life, but they do well to ensure their parts are three-dimensional and enjoyable.
The set is an extraordinary work of art by Louie Whitemore, transforming almost miraculously between Acts One and Two in such a small space from a Venetian apartment complete with giant Canaletto on the wall to a London drawing room used by Janet as her office – as a voiceover tells us during the interval, switching from the Grand Canal of Venice to the Grand Junction Canal in London.
For Sayers’ fans there’s even a play poster on the wall for Janet’s hit “Mare’s Nest” with the actors’ names all being characters from her novels or real life relationships. Not that there are many quiet moments to play that Who’s Who? Game but it’s a clever design nod.
“Love All” represents a sad but triumphant farewell to director Tom Littler who, as Artistic Director of Jermyn Street Theatre, has turned this hidden gem in Piccadilly into something sparkling, a powerhouse venue to be taken seriously. For his final (18th) production here he has created something to remember and savour before heading off to the Orange Tree in Richmond in October.
Defying all expectations of clichéd creakiness, Jermyn Street Theatre delivers a sparky revival of this surprisingly overlooked play in a manner as uncompromising as its writer, adding a welcome touch of Piccadilly panache.
Dancing Brick presents a stage adaptation of the legendary film by Jacques Tati. An unlikely undertaking at first thought with the film’s notoriety for excessive detail, a myriad of characters, and almost no plot nor dialogue. And yet Co-Directors Valentina Ceschi and Thomas Eccleshare, with a cast of five (including Ceschi who doubles as an actor too), have created an evening’s triumph of mime and movement.
There is little plot – various people arrive in Paris at the airport, visit the Pour la Maison Paris Expo, stay in a hotel and go to a restaurant before returning to the airport. And there is little spoken dialogue – only occasional words are heard, some in French, some in English.
To start things off, Tati’s great comedic invention, Monsieur Hulot (Enoch Lwanga) enters through the audience. Dressed in his recognisable raincoat and hat, carrying an umbrella (Set & Costume Designer Michael Vale), Lwanga’s languid movements and sad reflective expression set the mood. He gamely blows up a balloon and then lets it down again.
Hulot enters the opening scene in the arrivals lounge (“Arrivee”) of a French airport. Dozens of characters come and go, arriving and departing via an escalator, criss-crossing the stage – a different hat, jacket, suitcase signifying a change in character. There are two nuns, two opposing volleyball teams, holiday makers, a beat combo, paparazzi… It is difficult to believe that this is a cast of just five actors and we shall see many of these characters again before the end of the evening. The humour within the scene is gentle rather than pratfall slapstick and the cast show off their consistently excellent mime skills. Their movement is accompanied by a background of foyer muzak, setting a light comedic tone, and a rhythm for the antics to follow.
One character stands out ahead of the crowd. Barbara (Yuyu Rau) catches the eye of Monsieur Hulot and there begins a burgeoning romance. Together they share a beautiful fantasy dance scene seemingly, and surreally, outside of their adjacent hotel rooms.
The highlight of the evening is an extended scene set in a newly opening restaurant. With non-stop action, the ensemble’s comic timing is impeccable. Characters come and go, a few running gags are followed – a missing cat, a fracas about balloons, an increasingly drunk waiter – the mayhem occasionally breaking out into quirky dance routines. Central to the activity and holding the scene together is the Maitre D’ (Abigail Dooley) who is excellently portrayed with superb characterization.
Two songs are introduced. The first by Chilly Gonzales & Pierre Grillet is beautifully sung live by Valentina Ceschi. The second by Martha Wainwright accompanies the final scene between Hulot and Barbara as they spend time in the park. The atmosphere for the first time is less zany than what has gone before, more melancholic. We realise that Barbara will soon leave and Hulot – the gentle clown – will once again be alone.
As the actors take their well-earned bows, they are joined in a curtain call by the stage management team who undoubtedly have done their bit in the wings to make happen the huge number of costume and prop changes.
Dancing Brick have created a delightful entertainment of gentle comedy maintained by the skill and indefatigable energy of this small ensemble.
