Love's Labour's Lost

by William Shakespeare

seen in the gardens of Braboeuf Manor, Guildford on 25 July 2026

The Guildford Shakespeare Company and the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond have created joint open-air productions of both Love's Labour's Lost and Much Ado About Nothing for their summer seasons (quite usual for the GSC, but particularly apt for the Orange Tree, the auditorium for which is undergoing major renovations this summer). Tom Littler from the Orange Tree directs a cast of ten in the two plays, and he has devised ways to link them so that they appear to deal with the same characters before and after the Second World War. This is achieved by a few textual adjustments, but principally by assigning character names from each play to four couples and some assorted others. Thus the plays are linked more explicitly than in a similar exercise presented by the Royal Shakespeare Company eleven years ago (the RSC placed the plays on either side of the First World War and disposed the members of the cast differently).

In Love's Labour's Lost the four young male courtiers of the original are perfectly plausible as 1930's Oxbridge undergraduates (or perhaps they have recently graduated), their aspirations for living hopelessly out of touch with the world of real relationships and awkwardly insistent feelings. The visiting ladies soon scupper their idealistic fantasy of a three year retreat from feminine company, but the social comedy remains untouched almost until the end by the weightier matters of the real world. Even the lesser characters, decidedly from lower social strata, are ostensibly free from want or anxiety.

As in Much Ado (seen last week) James Sheldon gives a tremendously assured performance as Berowne/Benedick, a vital asset as these two characters (here presented as essentially the same person) must be convincing and charismatic for the plays to succeed as entertainment. The supporting cast manages the elaborate wordplay of Love's Labour's Lost with great panache, and often at dazzling speed, allowing us to be impressed by their mastery of the text rather than bamboozled by the now unfamiliar rhetorical wizardry.

The brittle make-believe world of the play is famously shattered in its concluding moments by the arrival of an unavoidably serious message for the Princess: the death of her father. The desperate and perhaps forlorn attempts of the young couples to retrieve something from this interruption by promises to revive their interest in one another after a suitable period of mourning, reflection and seeing to their new responsibilities is handled with due sobriety, and we the audience have some inkling that these four pairs of young people will have a "second chance" in the later Much Ado About Nothing.

The play ends with contrasting Spring and Winter songs concerning respectively the cuckoo and the owl. The text does not assign the songs to characters previously named; in this production Costard (here, an innkeeper) takes the lyrics for spring and Holofernes those for winter. At first they recited them, which had the curious effect of reminding me of reciting poetry in primary school classes, before they were repeated in song. I have seen productions in which the tunes for the two parts were utterly different, reflecting their different seasons, but here the same tune was used throughout. The overall effect was surprisingly poignant: the world of easy love-play was certainly giving way to something more serious.

Much Ado about Nothing

by William Shakespeare

seen in the gardens of Braboeuf Manor, Guildford on 18 July 2026

The Guildford Shakespeare Company and the Orange Tree Theatre in Richmond have created joint open-air productions of both Love's Labour's Lost and Much Ado About Nothing for their summer seasons (quite usual for the GSC, but particularly apt for the Orange Tree, the auditorium for which is undergoing major renovations this summer). Tom Littler from the Orange Tree directs a cast of ten in the two plays, and he has devised ways to link them so that they appear to deal with the same characters before and after the Second World War. This is achieved by a few textual adjustments, but principally by assigning character names from each play to four couples and some assorted others. Thus the plays are linked more explicitly than in a similar exercise presented by the Royal Shakespeare Company eleven years ago (the RSC placed the plays on either side of the First World War and disposed the members of the cast differently).

By chance I have seen the "second" play first, and have thus watched the soldiers returning from the war, variously affected by its violence: Benedick Berowne suffers nightmares, while the affable Longeuville has become the treacherous John. But the linkings are a minor matter; the principal pleasure is to be gained from the excellence of the production of a fine play. Beatrice (Phoebe Pryce) and Benedick (James Sheldon) remain the dazzling sparring couple perfectly believable in the heady days of victory in the mid-1940s, while the plot to denigrate Hero (Joëlle Brabant) and humiliate Claudio (Chirag Benedict Lobo) unfolds around them in a milieu where mistrust could very easily develop due to the years-long parting of sweethearts. The comic village constabulary with the pompous Dogberry (Matt Pinches, doubling also as the villainous John) in charge are suitably re-imagined as members of the local home guard in a nod to Dad's Army.

In a corner of the extensive gardens of the former Guildford College of Law the setting was imagined to be a rural village pub festooned with victory bunting but apparently not much used during the war years. Great trees provided a magnificent backdrop and a vital sounding board, and also much needed shade for the actors in a matinee performance (the audience was less fortunate in this respect). Once again the GSC has provided a really enjoyable al fresco production of a Shakespeare play.

45 Years

adapted by Hannah Patterson from Andrew Haigh's film

seen at the Minerva Theatre, Chichester on 4 July 2026

Prasanna Puwanarajah directs Gabriel Byrne as Geoff, Geraldine James as Kate and Gillian Bevan as Lena in Hannah Patterson's adaptation of the film 45 Years which was written and directed by Andrew Haigh and released in 2015 (Tom Courtenay and Charlotte Rampling played the couple while Geraldine James played Lena).

Geoff and Kate are about to celebrate their forty-fifth wedding anniversary, their ruby wedding celebrations having been cancelled due to Geoff's ill-health at the time. Theirs seems to be a marriage of long contentment and companionship, but a letter sent to Geoff throws an unexpected light on his past. He had told Kate of the girlfriend he had had before they met, and that she had died in a climbing accident when they were holidaying in the Alps, but there were evidently things that he had not said, which Kate now finds very painful to consider.

Over the course of the few days between the arrival of the letter and the celebratory party Kate must deal with catering arrangements and the well-meaning chatter of her friend Lena, all the while trying to come to terms with her new awareness of her husband's past, and her lack of certainty about what he might or might not have inadvertently or deliberately told her. In the meantime Geoff too has been knocked off balance by the news in the letter, and he struggles with his natural reticence, and perhaps his failing memory, to realise the pain he has caused.

The play is set solely in various rooms in their house with only the most minimal indication of which room the couple are in (set designed by James Cotterill); there is a clever indication of when Kate is in the loft. Indications that the house may be a bit rundown with age and their long residence perhaps mirror the fragility of Kate's and Geoff's relationship - there are persistent leaks from the rain outside, and a troublesome ballcock which Geoff eventually repairs. Only right at the end are we in the hall where the long-planned party takes place.

Conversation is mostly measured and muted, and the pattern of very short scenes of dialogue punctured by blackouts, very reminiscent of fades or scene-cuttings in film, is at first rather disconcerting, but the overall effect is to emphasise how much goes unspoken in apparently innocuous dialogue, and how fatally difficult it becomes to articulate important things after a lifetime of not doing so. Outbursts of temper never lead to longwinded or tearful confessions. The cumulative effect of all this reticence is etched on Kate's face as she dances with Geoff in the village hall - it is utterly unclear what she will do next, while Geoff appears to think that he has made things right by publicly declaring his love for his wife.

Geraldine James and Gabriel Byrne handle this low-key approach with great skill, though there is a slight danger that at times they speak too quietly. One soon realises how verbose many dramas are on stage and screen in comparison to this stripped back but still very revealing dialogue, which, in this stage version, is perfectly matched by the austere visual style.

Black Comedy

by Peter Shaffer

seen at the Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond on 2 July 2026

Caroline Steinbeis directs Joe Bannister as Brindsley Miller, Leah Haile as his fiancée Carol Melkett, Jason Barnett as her father Colonel Melkett, Julia Hills as Brindsley's neighbour Miss Furnival, Simon Manyonda as his other neighbour Harold Gorringe, Patricia Allison as his former girlfriend Clea, Chris Chilton as Schuppanzigh (an employee of the London Electricity Board) and Javier Marzan as Georg Bamberger, a wealthy recluse, in Peter Shaffer's one-act farce Black Comedy.

The action takes place on an evening of chaos (naturally): Brindsley and Carol prepare to dazzle her father and Baumgartner who are about to visit Brindsley's down-at-heel flat. To do this they have surreptitiously "borrowed" impressive items - furniture and knickknacks - from Gorringe's flat in his absence. Suddenly the entire building suffers a blackout during which unexpected visitors turn up and complicate the situation in the ridiculous way in which farces usually operate.

The dazzling visual technique by which all this is managed for the audience's benefit is that the opening scene in which there is electric light is played in total darkness, while the scenes in blackout are played with full stage lighting so we can see all the characters blindly feeling their way about the room. Striking a match or clicking on a cigarette lighter reduces the lighting to a subdued glow. This witty convention allows for any number of tremendous sight gags as characters try to find one another, hand out drinks, or in Brindsley's case try to move furniture into and out of the room. The arrival of a new character can be "concealed" until he or she chooses to speak, providing yet another avenue for laughs.

The physical comedy is rendered even more remarkable as the play is here performed in the round, so the gags have to be convincing from multiple angles; the small acting space means that drinks are occasionally passed in error to members the audience, and some are directly addressed by characters who mis-place where other people are in the room.

The cast and creative team (set and costume designer.Simon Daw, lighting designer Elliott Griggs and physical comedy consultant John Nicholson among others) have done the play proud, and have revealed the astonishing variety of Peter Shaffer's talent - he wrote this play within months of the epic The Royal Hunt of the Sun. Yet though this seems far removed from the high seriousness of his full-length dramas there remains beneath the surface a strong undercurrent of uncertainty and betrayal; Brindsley is tying himself in knots and unwittingly causing damage to himself as well as those around him as he persists in seeing himself only as a victim of circumstances. However, the strongest impression is of immense theatrical fun.

The Marquise

by Noël Coward

seen at the Yvonne Arnaud Theatre Guildford on 27 June 2026

Philip Wilson directs Juliet Aubrey as the Marquise Eloise de Kestournel, Simon Shepherd as Raoul de Vriaac and Tristan Gemmill as Esteban el Duco de Santaguano ("saint guano" - really?) in Noël Coward's 1927 play The Marquise. Though originally set in 1735, and hence a social comedy about the French aristocracy of the ancient regime, this production from the Theatre Royal Windsor has updated the action by two centuries (with permission from the Coward estate) to reflect the upper-class social world of the 1930s.

In an elaborate Art Deco reception room in the country house of Raoul de Vriaac (a wonderful set designed by Colin Falconer), the engagement is announced between his daughter Adrienne (Eva O'Hara) and Miguel (Barnaby Tobias), the son of Raoul's close friend Esteban. The two older men spar off each other while the engaged couple excuse themselves to go onto the terrace; when they return they are eventually left alone, at which point they confess to each other that neither of them really wants to marry. It's the classic comedy situation of the bright youngsters setting themselves against parental pressure, but reversed in that they are hoping to avoid a marriage their respective fathers have set their hearts on.

Into this awkward situation the Marquise arrives, full of joie de vivre and mischief. She is an old flame of Raoul's (from before his marriage: he is now widowed) and her first question to the alarmed Raoul is "How is my child?". Another comic trope has arrived with enormous aplomb as the Marquise insinuates herself into the household and, on meeting Adrienne, she immediately proposes to help her.

Coward is obviously having wicked fun skewering pretension and the conventions of comedy plotting - there is a knowing butler and a sanctimonious chaplain to deal with as well. The Marquise is shamelessly manipulative and fabulously worldly-wise (there's a lovely joke that the furniture of the very à la mode setting is uncomfortable and far too dusty), and the stage seems set for a series of plots and counter-plots, since Jacques Rijar (Martin Carroll), the object of Adrienne's affections and the secretary of her father, has been sacked by the outraged Raoul when their secret has been revealed, and the hapless young man seems determined to flee "with honour".

But (to me and my companions at least) the bombshell that is dropped at the opening of the second half is completely unexpected and very funny: the havoc the Marquise can cause spreads ever wider, and even leads to the two old friends embarking on a preposterous duel, until all is resolved more or less to everyone's satisfaction.

The repartee was excellently handled, and the formalities of pastiche 18th-century courtly dialogue seemed absolutely to suit the brittle milieu of the 1930s, with only a few necessary adjustments to account for technological progress (the Marquise travels in a Bugatti rather than a coach - but it still breaks down conveniently). It was an unexpected pleasure to come across a little-known Coward play and to discover that it is as witty as his better-known works, with the usual undercurrent of seriousness and even a nagging uncertainty as to how to set one's moral compass in a changing world.

Cyrano de Bergerac

by Edmond Rostand

seen at the Noël Coward Theatre on 22 June 2026

Simon Evans directs Adrian Lester in the title role in a new version of Rostand's famous 1897 play Cyrano de Bergerac, an RSC production transferred from Stratford to the West End. The text has been adapted by Evans and Debris Stevenson. Susannah Fielding plays Roxanne, a childhood friend of Cyrano's with whom he is secretly in love, and Levi Brown plays Christian de Neuvillette, an untutored young soldier smitten by her, who asks Cyrano for help in wooing her.

The play has enormous energy due to the extrovert character of Cyrano, who defends his honour - his panache - on the slightest provocation, and sometimes seems to encourage unwary newcomers to annoy him. The opening scenes contain a dazzling example of his style in vanquishing a "foe". Intertwined with this exuberance is the love story in which Cyrano pours out his heart in the service of Christian's wooing, so that Roxane falls for the young soldier, who is sufficiently naive not to recognise his false position until fatefully late in the day.

The play (being French) was written in rhymed alexandrines, a form almost impossible to maintain convincingly in modern English. Part of the charm of this adaptation its its clever reconfiguring of the language, in which the sophisticated Cyrano and the often ditzy Roxanne often talk in rhyme, and the ridiculous Comte de Guiche (Scott Handy) spouts stilted platitudes in clunking verse, while others do not. Christian in particular speaks in a demotic Brummie accent that perfectly recasts his provincial origins for a modern British audience. The programme notes provide some interesting insights into how Evans and Stevenson went about adapting the play, taking some fascinating liberties with their material.

The theatricality of the piece is emphasised by frequent asides to the audience, and indeed there are zestful elements of pantomime in the behaviour of Cyrano's "gang" in the opening sunnier scenes. These provide a suitable contrast to the more serious developments as the men go off to war with its merciless consequences, while the final scene reaches a melancholy resolution. 

Adrian Lester's superb mastery of language and his physical bravado carry the play, all the while subtly allowing the character's fateful insecurity to flicker through the facade. All the flash and excitement creates a lifetime of missed opportunities for honesty, which leads Roxane to an explosion of anger fully justified by her friend's deceptions. 

It's a great revival, tempering the incipient sentimentality of the play's Romantic sheen with down-to-earth  stagecraft to great effect, using an utter;y different approach from the last version I saw six years ago.

Equus

by Peter Shaffer

seen at the Menier Chocolate Factory on 20 June 2026

Lindsay Posner directs Toby Stephens as the psychiatrist Martin Dysart and Noah Valentine as the 17-year-old Alan Strang who has been referred to him after blinding six horses in the stables where he was working at weekends, in a revival of Peter Shaffer's 1973 play Equus. Emma Cunniffe and Colin Mace play Alan's parents Dora and Frank, Amanda Abbington plays Heather Saloman the referring magistrate, and Bella Aubin plays Jill Mason, Alan's co-worker at the stables.

The horses, traditionally portrayed with eerie head-dresses and metal hooves, are here represented by six black-trousered bare-footed dancers, their torsos smeared with black body paint and their movements expertly choreographed by James Cousins to indicate equine presence. Yet Ed Mitchell as Nugget, the horse that attracts Alan's closest attention, invests a homoerotic frisson to their encounters, allowing us to appreciate more strongly the heady mixture of physical delight and religious fervour in Alan's private world of devotion, matched by his wild incantations and eventually uninhibited re-enactments of his catastrophe.

What struck me most forcibly at the beginning of this revival, in contrast to earlier versions that I have seen, is how significant Dysart's crisis of confidence in his professional and personal life is to the structure of the play. This was largely due to the interpretation offered by Toby Stephens, impassioned and increasingly desperate as he wrestles with his doubts and occasionally succumbs to Alan's wily manipulations. Though the play begins as if narrated by Dysart in retrospect, by the end it is hard to know whether his despairing acknowledgement that he may have destroyed the boy's spiritual life by his therapy work is addressed directly to the sleeping Alan, or is just the culmination of his recollected narrative.

In all this Toby Stephens, giving a superb performance, is matched by an equally assured and powerful performance by Noah Valentine, veering from the nervy twitching and restlessness of the newly convicted teenager, to the excitement of the young boy's first encounter with a horse (recollected in an early therapy session) and then reaching an impassioned climax as he re-enacts the rites of his worship of "Equus" as embodied in the adored horse Nugget. At the same time, once Alan unbends enough to engage with Dysart, he soon learns to play the psychiatrist's games and has no compunction in exploiting his position to needle and infuriate the supposed adult in the room. It's a brilliantly nuanced performance by the young actor. 

The conclusion to the first half of the play is an ecstatic evocation of the boy's fervour which seems impossible to match in the second act, but, amazingly, the final session in which Alan finally acknowledges what he has done (he had apparently remained silent during the court case that led to his referral) explodes in even more power as the full extent of his tortured confusion between sexual awakening and ritualised reverence for his equine god leads to the blinding. This is all enacted with fearless passion in which the distress of the horses is entangled with the frenzy of the boy in a blur of flashing lights and throbbing hoofbeats (lighting by Paul Pyant and sound by Adam Cork).

The intensity of the play is further enhanced by the intimacy of the theatre, much smaller than the other theatres in which I have seen productions. The celebrated 2007 revival with Daniel Radcliffe as Alan was in a conventional West End auditorium, inherently more distancing for all but the closest members of the audience, and, fine though it was, it suffered inevitably from its celebrity-related baggage, and perhaps a too-cerebral interpretation of Dysart by Richard Griffiths. The revival I saw in the Yvonne Arnaud theatre seven years ago (also very well done) was nowhere near as intense an experience as watching it in the small space offered by the Menier. (See also my review of 9th May 2019).

It's intriguing that Shaffer returned again and again to the framing device of a story recollected: the page boy Martin as a grizzled older man telling the story of the conquest of Peru in The Royal Hunt of the Sun; Dysart narrating a case history which shattered his life in Equus; the aged Salieri recalling the crushing impact of Mozart on his career in Amadeus. And he is also really interested in the dynamic of the irruption of a younger man of enigmatic quality in the life of an older man who is otherwise world-weary: the young god-king Atahualpa confronting the aged Pizarro; a deeply troubled teenager confounding a professional expert; a musical genius out-stripping a humdrum composer. In this production of Equus we see the confrontation at its most raw, and it is both a wonderful and a disturbing theatrical experience, enhanced here by two excellent leads, an assured supporting cast, and evocative choreography and staging.