THE CABINET MINISTER at the Menier Chocolate Factory

★★★★

“a lavish excursion into genteel decadence, handsomely mounted and delivered with flair.”

The Twombleys’ London townhouse could pass as a railway tearoom such is the scale of arrivals and departures in Nancy Carroll’s perky interpretation of Arthur Wing Pinero’s family farce.

Designer Janet Bird’s sumptuous Victorian set works wonders on the Menier’s compact stage. She creates more marvels – and thankfully more space – in Act Two’s re-creation of Drumdurris Castle, a transformation that won interval applause.

Costumes, too, are charming and elegant, unlike the inner workings of the strife-torn Twombleys who are facing a blizzard of debts and bills. Head of the household Sir Julian, the Cabinet Minister of the title, is also on the verge of resignation and disgrace following accusations of “accepting favours” in the bear pit of Westminster. No change there then.

Although the play’s promise is of political satire, it is matters of heart and purse that occupy a giddy procession of plots and subplots. The motive is money and marriage, the latter invariably facilitating the former.

Consequently, Nicholas Rowe, as Sir Julian, appears somewhat lost amid the sugar-rush garrulousness of the very modern ladies working hard to make ends – and couples – meet.

More dynamic and focused is his wife, former farmgirl Kitty Twombley, who is forever in a whirl, heading off financial calamity and protecting her brood with nefarious schemes. The talented Nancy Carroll, who also adapted the play, ensures her dazzling Kitty-with-claws is the multi-faceted fulcrum of this dizzying merry-go-round.

“It is fun and it is funny”

In an ensemble cast without notable flaws, special mention must go to Dillie Kean’s decrepit Lady Macphail. Her phlegmy Scottish brogue amusingly evokes the misty mountains, majestic pines and haunting pipes of her homeland. These sentimental interludes are in comedic contrast to the gnomic utterances of her awkward son Sir Colin (Matthew Woodyatt) who, commendably and in contrast to the general fevered tone, “refuses to fill the silence with bluster”.

Because much of the play’s frantic delight is to be found in baroque circumlocutions, leavened with sly quips, vegetable gags and double entendres constructed to land comfortably on the modern ear without entirely losing the spirit of the 1890 original. It is fun and it is funny.

Elsewhere Sara Crowe’s stately matchmaker Dora indulges in “practical interference” while Phoebe Fildes and Laurence Ubong Williams bring a touch of skulduggery and sharp practice as the blackmailing Lacklustre siblings, chancers on the make.

Director Paul Foster keeps the action tight, the lines crisp and the pacing modern, although he is forever combatting the grating anachronisms of class and entitlement (presumably the reason behind the addition of an unnecessary coda).

The 12-strong cast seem to delight in each other’s excellent work and there’s an anarchic energy which, although occasionally threatening to overwhelm the piece, ultimately finds a resolution to match its promise.

The Cabinet Minister is a lavish excursion into genteel decadence, handsomely mounted and delivered with flair.