Present Laughter

by Noel Coward

seen at the Old Vic on 31 July 2019

Matthew Warchus directs Andrew Scott as Garry Essendine with Indira Varma as his estranged wife Liz and Sophie Thompson as his personal assistant Monica, with others supporting, in this revival (designed by Rob Howell) of Noel Coward's skewering comedy about theatrical celebrity first seen in the 1940s.

The set, in bright pastels, looks like a demented cross between a swank flat (where it is supposed to be) and an art deco cinema or theatre foyer, emphasising the fact that Garry Essendine lives on his celebrity status. Five entrances allow for a truly farcical set-up as people emerge from or are hidden in various rooms of the flat, or arrive at its front door, as the plot requires; but, typical of Coward, it is all very knowing, and one character complains (over the telephone) of being in a French farce. This calling the audience's attention to the mechanics of what they are witnessing is  high-risk strategy, but Noel Coward, at the peak of his powers, can pull it off, providing the cast rises to the occasion. This cast does, in splendid form.

Everything depends on Garry Essendine - he is, as he never tires of complaining (while revelling in the fact) at the centre of his own world, with all the other characters in one way or another dependent on him, with varying degrees of frustrated emotion or financial need. And the character is immensely theatrical - flamboyant, self-dramatising, masking a fragile vulnerability under a carapace of scintillating eloquence. Thus, not only does the plot depend on him, but the production depends on the actor taking the part. Here Andre Scott displays an absolute mastery of the role, delivering the wildly overblown speeches with consummate panache, but managing a few crucial moments when the mask slips with unerring skill. It's a wonderful performance to watch.

Around him the others circulate in exasperation, devotion or resigned acceptance; there are subtle vignettes such as the amused competence of the valet Fred (Joshua Hill), and the weird celebrity devotion of aspiring playwright Roland Maule (Luke Thallon). In a move that would have been impossible in Coward's own lifetime, the only seduction actually seen on stage occurs between Garry and a man, rather than a woman. It makes perfect sense even though it could not have been presented 70 years ago.

After all the high-jinks and put downs, the betrayals and recriminations presented almost entirely for the high entertainment value of a sophisticated comedy, there is a moment of quiet pain and rueful acceptance of compromise - is even the cool-hearted Liz entirely free of the spell? - and the play ends on a remarkably poignant note, once again perfectly judged in this fine production.