★★★★

“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.

LEAVES OF GLASS at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing.”

Memories contain errors. Memory is highly malleable; therefore, often unreliable. It can be altered by emotional state from the very second it becomes a memory. Or many years later. Yet most of us like to think our own recollections are infallible, even when we know we might be twisting it. That’s just survival, according to Philip Ridley who explores these themes in his 2007 play “Leaves of Glass”. The middle episode of his ‘Brothers Trilogy’, it was preceded by ‘Mercury Fur’ and followed by ‘Piranha Heights’.

“Leaves of Glass” centres around two brothers, Steven (Ned Costello) and Barry (Joseph Potter). Five years apart in age, but on the surface, they couldn’t be further apart from each other. Steven runs a successful graffiti removal business while Barry, despite being a bit of a dogsbody in the firm, is a struggling artist. Steven appears to have his head screwed on, whereas Barry’s is lost in drink and hallucinations. Their respective memories of their father, whom they lost at a young age, are on different tracks. Yet there are similarities that bond them. But like similar poles of a magnet, they repel each other. Their mother Liz (Kacey Ainsworth) tentatively holds them together, despite her affections wavering between the two as wildly as her own recollections. The only solid presence is Steven’s pregnant wife Debbie (Katie Eldred) who is aware of the fragility of the family, but her tolerance doesn’t stretch to assuring nothing gets broken.

The intensity of the play comes not just from the spoken word, but the silence that surrounds a traumatic incident from the brothers’ childhood that neither seems willing to talk about. When the silence snaps, the effect is shocking. The pieces come together but nothing fits, as the final battle of memories is like a duel to the death.

“Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance”

The intensity of the play also undoubtedly comes from the performances. Costello and Potter both capture the inherent danger in Ridley’s script and in their characters. Costello in particular, like a brooding prisoner who never leaves the stage. Neither can escape their version of the truth – a truth that we can only keep guessing about. Eldred’s Debbie, the outsider, is more grounded but not quite strong enough to dodge the fallout from the brothers’ mind games. Ainsworth is a mix of concern and complicity as the mother who inflates her own ability to cope. ‘I’ve buried two parents and a husband’ she continually reminds us, ‘I think I’m capable of carrying some tea and biscuits’. The little hints of domesticity are a thin gauze over the deep cracks that run through this family.

Ridley’s signature is splashed all over the piece, although less shocking, and perhaps more thoughtful, than some of his other work. Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing. Some scenes are short, like pieces of broken glass. Other scenes start when they are already up and running. They end unresolved. It is discomforting and reflects the unravelling of the minds of these four protagonists. The actors come into the scenes from different angles – as jagged as the eponymous leaves of glass. Alex Lewer’s lighting is just as evocative, swinging from harshness to near darkness like a horror film’s bare light bulb; while Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance.

It is difficult to tell the difference between a lie and a truth misremembered. This family is built on both – a pretty unstable foundation to begin with. It is not always easy viewing to witness, but the craftmanship of the acting and the writing force us not to look away. Memory may be fragile, but “Leaves of Glass” will be difficult to forget.

Tag Archives: Joseph Potter

EASY VIRTUE

★★★★

Cambridge Arts Theatre

EASY VIRTUE

Cambridge Arts Theatre

★★★★

“packed with killer one liners and devastating retorts”

EASY VIRTUE

Cambridge Arts Theatre

Reviewed on 25th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Richard Hubert Smith

EASY VIRTUE

EASY VIRTUE

EASY VIRTUE

🎭 A TOP SHOW IN JANUARY 2024 🎭

LEAVES OF GLASS

★★★★

Park Theatre

LEAVES OF GLASS at the Park Theatre

★★★★

“Max Harrison’s staging is beautifully faithful and sympathetic to the writing.”

“Sam Glossop’s underscore splits the play’s segments like splinters of sound that throw us off balance”