Widowers' Houses

by Bernard Shaw

seen at the Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond on 24 January 2015

This was the first performed play by Bernard Shaw, in 1892. It blends social comedy with intense criticism of the exploitation of poor tenants by slum landlords, but, as is often the case with Shaw, it does not attempt a dramatic resolution of the problems discussed. It is the first of three so-called 'Plays Unpleasant', designed to provoke rather than soothe an audience.

As the Orange Tree theatre is in the round there is no possibility of a realistic set. The floor space  for the first two acts is a giant 19th century twenty pound note. In the first act the tea tables of the German hotel are placed on this; in the second act it is Sartorius's study furniture. In the third act (after the interval) the 'note' is stripped off to reveal the Bloomsbury and St George's section of William Booth's famous 'Poverty Map' of London; Blanche Sartorius's drawing room furniture is placed on this extremely relevant social document.

The production is somewhat broad-brushed and declamatory. This may be a consequence of Shaw's preaching style, already evident in this first stage work and never completely absent from his plays, but even so the actors spoke at times too loudly for the space they were in, giving the impression that they did not trust to any subtlety to achieve the desired effects. It is possible that this impression is intensified on the upper level of the theatre; but on the other hand I saw a few audience members at the stage level look taken aback by the fierceness of some of the outbursts.

Having said that, the Shavian blend of comedy and criticism often fizzed with tension. Harry Trench (an excellent Alex Waldmann) came across as naive, wayward and suitably both chastened and trapped to discover the extent of his unwitting involvement in the rentier's predicament. His increasingly fraught relationship with Blanche (Rebecca Collingwood), who appears at first to be a typical Victorian ingenue, but who reveals a startling steeliness of purpose when crossed, is delightfully done. His friend Cokane (Stefan Adegbola) appears to be self-assured, but rapidly reveals himself as odiously sycophantic; the bons mots that flow so freely in Oscar Wilde's plays are here seen to mask a shallow and rather unpleasant personality. Patrick Drury gives a suave and at times chilling account of Sartorius (Blanche's father), the self-made man who spouts justifications for his rapaciousness that still sound all too plausible and all too common. Simon Gregor's Lickcheese is perhaps the least believable character here, as he moves from grovelling servility to angry defiance to vulgar flashiness, more to allow Shaw to score points than to convince us of a real person's trajectory. 

Underneath the surface comedy and glitter there is a stern rebuke of capitalist exploitation. This still has its barb today with the combination of ever-escalating house prices and the encouragement of buying to let, which has left too many people with no opportunity to secure decent housing (whether owned or rented) for themselves. There is still an unpleasant sting in the tail when Trench joins the speculators.