Tag Archives: St Paul’s Church

STIFF UPPER LIP, JEEVES

★★★★

St. Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

STIFF UPPER LIP, JEEVES

St. Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

★★★★

“A sunny, high-spirited, and thoroughly absorbing evening”

What fun! Stiff Upper Lip, Jeeves is just the ticket for an evening of charming escapism and energetic frolics.

Performed by Alfresco Actors in the garden of St Paul’s, the Actors’ Church, this production makes wonderful use of its surroundings. The stage furniture is so minimal as to be a blank canvas. The company’s four actors are left to conjure the pandemonium of Bertie Wooster’s world out of a churchyard and their own ingenuity. They project over the hum of Covent Garden without ever letting the outside world derail proceedings.

P.G. Wodehouse was one of the great comic writers of the twentieth century, and this is an adaptation of his 1963 novel of the same name. His stories revolve around the amiable but gormless Bertie Wooster who has a smoothly competent valet, Jeeves. The comedy runs on wordplay, misunderstanding, eccentric characters, and the gap between Bertie’s chaotic attempts to solve problems and Jeeves’ serene ability to sort them out. The play involves an imperilled engagement, a formidable prospective father-in-law and a friend in need of a favour. The country house setting is another ‘character’, with social rules meaning one wrong word can ruin a young blighter’s life prospects.

Oliver Stockley adapts and directs. He pulls the material cheerfully into the present. Modern touches in the songs, dances, accents and sly asides litter the text. The audience laps it all up, from a parody of Hamlet to some frankly deranged choreography. The performers’ delight in the frothy piece is infectious.

Everything from the light comedy repertoire is here: slapstick, cancan dancing, verbal fizz and impeccable timing. Jonathan Deakin’s songs are most awfully clever. ‘Song of the King’ is a stand-out. The cast doubles as the band, giving the evening the loose, convivial swing of a garden party that has got slightly out of hand.

Shaun Mendum’s Bertie is a joy. His facial expressions alone are worth the price of admission. His physicality, wringing a whole range of emotion from one rubbery face, sits somewhere between Mr Bean and Inspector Clouseau. His willingness to get down and dirty during the tirade in the play-within-a-play deserves particular kudos.

Scott Slocombe provides the perfect counterpoint. His Jeeves is calm, grounded and utterly unflappable, as well as entirely lovable. Slocombe turns in a fine comic contrast as Madeline’s father. Lowenna Morgelyn moves gleefully and with real agility between generation and sex in her given roles.

Not everything lands. The pacing is slow to start, gaining dynamism only around the one-third mark. With four actors covering a houseful of characters and the costumes and props so pared back, it is sometimes hard to work out which of several characters an actor is portraying. Chioma Uma solves the problem brilliantly. Her inventive accents and mannerisms differentiate her three roles of Emerald, Stinker and Plank without any need for a costume change.

What makes the evening so enchanting is the actors’ sheer enthusiasm. They embrace the silliness without apology and invite the audience to do the same. For two hours, you forget the sensible world beyond the railings and immerse yourself in glorious absurdity.

A sunny, high-spirited, and thoroughly absorbing evening of outdoor theatre. Come prepared for music, physical comedy, linguistic mischief and plenty of Wodehouse-inspired mayhem. Leave your good judgment at the church gates.

 



STIFF UPPER LIP, JEEVES

St. Paul’s Church, Covent Garden

Reviewed on 18th August 2026

by Elizabeth Botsford

Photography by Cosmic Xposure


 

 

 

 

STIFF UPPER LIP

STIFF UPPER LIP

STIFF UPPER LIP

TWELFTH NIGHT

★★

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

TWELFTH NIGHT

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

★★

“The physicality is wonderful, yet there is a creative laziness that obstructs the romanticism, and the magic”

There are worse places to be, during this current heat wave, than sitting on a garden bench under the trees in the gardens of St Paul’s Church, tucked away behind the cafes and shops of Covent Garden. Known affectionately as the Actor’s Church, there are memorials to stage and screen legends, including Charlie Chaplin, Vivien Leigh and Boris Karloff. The home of candlelight concerts and theatrical performances, its Portico façade is also the backdrop for the renowned street performances that attract crowds from around the globe. The churchyard can only be reached via the recessed, inconspicuous gates on the other side. A van selling cool drinks is parked close to the steps, while theatre goers slowly find their seats. The sun has dipped behind the skyline, but the day’s heat still rests on the grass, and the church bells strike seven, heralding Nonsense Theatre’s take on Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night”.

Their entrance is a touch subdued, diffident even, in contrast to their promotional pitch which promises a mix of Monty Python, Robin Hood, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Princess Bride and a Knight’s Tale. Not just a blend of influences but, in their own words, the ‘lovechild’ of this orgy of absurdity. A grand claim. There is a fine line between nonsense and lack of meaning, however, and this company err towards the latter. Too many references evoke a lack of thought rather than any cohesive decision making. They are on a mini tour of country gardens, halls and castle grounds, but the luxury of the peaceful, English countryside hasn’t prepared them for the bustle of the metropolis. With no amplification, they struggle to be heard above the buskers in the piazza and the street sounds. With only a couple of exceptions, the eight-strong cast appear to find no need to adapt to the acoustics, nor – as it happens – to make particular use of the surroundings on offer. The show has the air of a group of friends pitching up in somebody’s garden to throw ideas around.

Niamh Handley-Vaughan directs (she also plays Maria) but there are all the hallmarks of a collaborative effort. Albeit one with little time, or budget, to consolidate the melting pot of ingredients. Too many cooks is a phrase that comes to mind. We are shipwrecked on the ancient and dream-like kingdom of Illyria, where the natives sing Irish sea shanties as well as modern pop songs. Olivia (Jericho Taylor) is dressed like Guinevere but elsewhere there is little to suggest medievalism – unless you count the clacking of coconut shells to conjure a horse’s gait. Malvolio is Malvolia (Chloe Orrock, who doubles as Antonio… renamed Antonia) but, although the gender is also switched, Tobi (sic) Belch (Kitty Mason) is still a ‘sir’. Blind casting is stretched to the limit when it comes to the twins; Viola and Sebastian. A brave decision to subvert the notion of physical resemblance, which could enhance the comedy of errors wrought by mistaken identity, yet it fails to buoy up our suspension of disbelief.

Despite the occasional gender-flips, the subtleties of Shakespeare’s homoeroticism fall flat. But then again, so do many of his lines. The bizarre soundtrack barely reaches the front row of the benched seating, played by various cast members like teenagers tentatively strumming in their bedroom. Projection appears to be an alien concept to this troupe. Although Orrock’s Malvolia stands out, injecting some much-needed midsummer madness into the evening. But even so, the comedy is a touch contrived.

It’s a long night. By interval the church clock is striking nine. The shadows are stretching across the lawn as dusk dims nature’s lights. This could become a magical moment, but aside from the church’s own festoons, the company plough on without rhyme, reason or lighting design. There is plenty of energy, and also plenty of audience members who reward the performers’ enthusiasm with genuine affection. The physicality is wonderful, yet there is a creative laziness that obstructs the romanticism, and the magic. And, yes, it could be shortened. We should be left wanting more by being offered less. But ultimately, we were left hoping that the curtain call precedes the ten o’clock chiming of the church bells. It does, but only just.

 



TWELFTH NIGHT

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

Reviewed on 9th July 2026

by Jonathan Evans


 

 

 

 

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT