EASY VIRTUE
Cambridge Arts Theatre
★★★★
“packed with killer one liners and devastating retorts”
Sir Trevor Nunn’s anticipated revival of ‘Easy Virtue’ – one of Noël Coward’s early, rarely staged plays – lands in his old stamping ground. Written in 1924 and shocking in its day, this finely judged production still hits hard, exposing the price women pay for living on their own terms.
John – the sole heir to an aristocratic fortune – triggers a reckoning when he brings home a wildly unsuitable wife. But frank and fearless Larita knows her worth and won’t be cowed by his unbending family. As tensions rise, only one side will come out on top.
‘Easy Virtue’ has all the razor sharp wit you expect from Coward – only with a far sharper edge. It scandalised original audiences: Larita’s past touches almost every 1920s taboo, forcing contemporary audiences to confront the double standards they’d rather ignore. Yet it still feels ahead of its time; even now, it’s a thrill to watch a heroine resolutely refuse to conform. The script is packed with killer one liners and devastating retorts; Larita delivers some blisteringly articulate speeches, which are satisfying if a touch contrived. Still, a few beats land awkwardly in 2026. Larita ends up minimising John’s responsibility for their failing marriage while maximising her own, which jars with her otherwise forward thinking nature. Meanwhile John is shielded from scandal and handed a tidy solution by Larita herself, which Sarah also seems to support – though perhaps as an intentional indictment of male privilege.
Sir Trevor Nunn’s landmark production makes Coward’s cynical wit and emotional precision really sparkle. Recasting Larita as English rather than American sidesteps the culture clash trope, sharpening the clash of ideals and making the Whittakers’ gaslighting feel even more toxic. Every character is humanised, especially Larita whose poised wit gives way to silent moments of collapse, underlining her emotional intelligence and the trap she’s in. Sarah echoes Larita’s modernity, fiercely calling out John’s neglect and resisting his advances – though this makes their later reconciliation a little jarring. The Colonel’s final wave is a beautifully understated tribute from this faithful ally. And placing the interval right after Larita and John’s explosive Act 2 argument smartly spotlights this turning point and splits the evening into two clean halves.
The brilliant cast delivers standout work across the board. Alice Orr Ewing’s Larita is resolutely poised and deeply sympathetic, pairing razor wit with hidden depths. Greta Scacchi nails Mrs Whittaker’s narcissistic obliviousness, delivering hysterics with immaculate comic timing and pitch perfect restraint. Lisa Ambalavanar’s fresh, funny, fierce Sarah proves herself worthy of Larita’s friendship as a genuine “girl’s girl”. Joseph Potter charts John’s headlong rush into first love before snapping back to reality with uncomfortable accuracy. Michael Praed gives the Colonel a poignantly worn down grace – a man long resigned yet capable of respectful tenderness. Imogen Elliott’s Marion captures a young woman sliding inevitably into her mother’s mould, conditioned to toe the family line. Grace Hogg Robinson gives Hilda a charming, volatile innocence, veering from idolising Larita to bristling at her. Jamie Wilkes brings a deft mix of aristocratic stiffness and bold humour to Charles, letting the formal façade slip.
Simon Higlett’s set channels 1920s aristocracy: an opulent, pillar lined room complete with all the trappings. Like the Whittakers, it remains steadfast throughout, the only change coming from the symbolically clearing sky in the vast French windows. Johanna Town’s lighting follows suit, steady until the finale, where blues, purples and festive lamps mark the climax. Higlett’s costumes revel in 1920s glamour with Larita’s gala look stealing the show in a riot of sequins, pearls and rubies, topped with a magnificent feather fan. Anna Wood’s sound design is subtle and unobtrusive: no mics, just soft music and distant applause. Only the ending falters, the music swelling too soon and drowning Larita’s final lines.
Nunn’s ‘Easy Virtue’ reminds us that a woman’s independence is still the ultimate provocation. Don’t miss this powerful production of a rare Coward gem.
EASY VIRTUE
Cambridge Arts Theatre
Reviewed on 25th February 2026
by Hannah Bothelton
Photography by Richard Hubert Smith
