Review – The Constant Wife, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 1st July 2025

Are we seeing a resurgence in the influence of Somerset Maugham? After Theatre Royal Bath’s blissful revival of The Circle last year, now comes Laura Wade’s invigorating version of The Constant Wife, his 1926 sparkler about infidelity and how to handle it. Give me a revival of the 1976 musical Liza of Lambeth next and I’ll be very happy. Maugham’s original play tells the story of the relationship between John, a Harley Street doctor married to Constance, and Marie-Louise, a spoilt and vacuous pretty little thing, married to Mortimer. Both Constance’s mother and sister are fully aware of the affair and differ as to whether she should be told about it. But Constance has known about it all along and has been biding her time to work it to her best advantage.

ConstanceWhere Maugham tells the story as a simple, linear narrative, Laura Wade’s deft re-ordering puts the affair out in the open right from the start and then goes back in time so that we can see how Constance discovered the affair a year earlier. There’s nothing Laura Wade likes more than to play with time as she did very effectively in both The Watsons and Home I’m Darling – and The Constant Wife is no exception. Both HID and TCW feature a strong central female backed by a purposefully resilient mother, but where Judy in HID revels in the lifestyle of a meek 50s housewife, much to her mother’s consternation, Constance embodies feminism by knowing precisely what she wants and how to get it, while her mother is the type who feels that if a man plays away from home it’s entirely the woman’s fault. One of the best lines of the play is when Constance tells her mother why she always knew that Bernard wasn’t the man for her: “he was a trifle too much inclined to lie down on the floor and let me walk over him”. It’s a line that gives you an instant insight into her character.

John and Marie-LouiseThey say that knowledge is power; by concealing the fact that she knew about the affair, Constance starts to create a new financially independent life for herself hidden in plain sight. If this were an episode of The Traitors it would be like winning a shield and not telling anyone. However, neither Maugham’s Constance nor Wade’s updated version ever puts a foot out of character, retaining her dignity and total faithfulness to her class and her status. Indeed, the whole production’s adherence to its original 1920s setting and atmosphere is one of its greatest virtues; the occasional – and extremely funny – double entendre notwithstanding.

CastMy only quibble here is that Jamie Cullum’s jazz-oriented incidental music, whilst doubtless of the age, feels a little out of balance with the rest of the production. There’s no sense of the Jazz Age in the text or the characterisations – Marie-Louise could easily have been portrayed as a flapper but she decidedly isn’t – so the music didn’t work for me. That aside, the other creative aspects are excellent. Ryan Day’s subtle lighting suggests the world outside the Harley Street drawing room, Anna Fleischle and Cat Fuller’s costumes reflect the characterisations perfectly; even the fabrics and objets d’art that Martha sells in her shop are spot-on – that “lovely” lamp is hideous by the way, but that’s all part of the fun.

Bernard and JohnAs well as reshaping the sequences of the plotline, Laura Wade’s script takes all the best Maugham scenes and many of his brilliant killer lines and smartly updates the scenario with the removal of an unnecessary character (Barbara), enhancement of the character of Bentley, the butler, and some lovely meta moments, currently very en vogue. I particularly liked the whole notion of the play that Constance and Bernard are going to see and how sometimes you need a refresher after the interval. Tamara Harvey’s direction is clear and delightfully lacking in gimmickry, although there were a few scenes where our view from Row F of the Ground (stalls) was blocked – four actors positioned in a diagonal line across the stage so that only the nearest could be seen; I know from ecstatic laughter around me that we missed some obvious gems of physical comedy, which is a shame.

Constance and Mrs CulverThe cast are uniformly superb, each giving terrific performances. Raj Bajaj is brilliant as Bernard, perpetually uncomfortable with himself and on the brink of exploding with love for Constance. Amy Morgan brings out all the comedy of sibling exasperation as sister Martha, and Luke Norris as John gives an intelligent portrayal of a husband caught out but not prepared to take all the blame. Emma McDonald’s Marie-Louise wheedles her way out of an awkward situation beautifully, cleverly showing us how unclever her character really is.

ConstanceKate Burton is pitch-perfect as Mrs Culver, Constance’s mother, delivering her fantastic lines with knowing authority and impish fun; and there’s great support from Daniel Millar’s perplexed and easily fooled Mortimer and Mark Meadows as the super-reliable Bentley. But it is Rose Leslie who takes centre stage throughout with a thoroughly believable, smart and witty portrayal of Constance, handling all her inner circle with various degrees of manipulativeness, apart from her only truly honest relationship, with Bentley, Bentleywhere she can completely be herself.

An excellent production of a timeless play, brought smartly to life by a neat adaptation. Don’t underestimate Maugham – he’s better than you think he is.

 

Production photos by Johan Persson

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Travesties, Menier Chocolate Factory, 23rd October 2016

The first time I saw a Tom Stoppard play was in 1976 on a school expedition to London to see Dirty Linen at the Arts Theatre. I sat next to Andy (you’ll know him as A. N.) Wilson; now a highly regarded author, columnist and social commentator, then a mere English teacher just about to get his first book published. Mr Wilson and Mr Ritchie (our other English teacher on this jaunt) were huge fans of Stoppard and were itching to see this new play, and not unreasonably thought their A level English students would appreciate the experience too. It was a success. A few months later they took us to see the National Theatre revival of Stoppard’s Jumpers too, which I thought was absolutely ace.

Two years before all this, Stoppard wrote Travesties. I reckon that if I’d seen a production of Travesties at the same time, I wouldn’t have had a Scooby – it would have sailed way over my head, in the direction of the second star on the right, straight on till morning. I did get the playtext for Christmas that year; and I think it reads a little more easily out of the book than it actually appears on stage, because you have the time to take in Stoppard’s verbal fireworks and re-read them to understand them better. But watching Patrick Marber’s excellent revival at the Menier made me realise what a difficult play it really is.

All these early Stoppard works relied heavily on his brilliant wordplay and sense of nonsense. He loved to depict stories from a weird angle – like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on stage when they should be off (and vice versa) or The Real Inspector Hound, seen from the view of the theatre critic who accidentally gets involved in the show. Every Good Boy Deserves Favour even needs a full orchestra to perform it. R&G and Hound also have the common theme of containing a play within a play; and Travesties too has some of the same elements, wrapping Henry Carr’s recollections of his youth in with an amateur production of The Importance of Being Earnest.

It must have been something of a gift for Stoppard to discover that Lenin, Joyce and Dadaist movement founder Tristan Tzara were all living in Zürich in 1917. So was little known consular official Henry Carr, who – to pass the time of day, presumably – joined an acting troupe called The English Players, whose business manager was the (ironically not very English) James Joyce. The play is set in the present (i.e. 1974) with an elderly Carr (he actually died in 1962 but who’s counting) reminiscing about his past and the extraordinary minds with whom he shared his Zürich days. But what is the purpose of the play, I asked myself, during the interval, and afterwards? There must be something more to it than just an exercise for Stoppard to show off his considerable verbal dexterity, or an example of how you can mash up a new play and an old play and not see the join. Apart from little glimpses into individual folly – like Joyce’s inability to match a jacket and trouser, or Tzara’s foppish use of a monocle when he had perfect eyesight – I couldn’t really identify the driving force behind this play.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. In fact, as productions go, I can’t imagine how you would play this better than the way it’s currently packing them in at the Menier. Tim Hatley’s design involves the remnants and loose pages of seemingly thousands of books, scattered to invoke both a busy library and a Dadaist approach to literature. Hidden false panels create opportunities for those outside to look in, library steps enable the action to take place on several levels in an otherwise confined space. There are also a few outrageously incongruent and surreal sequences when the whole thing turns song-and-dance like in The Ruling Class or something by Joan Littlewood. Personally, I find that kind of surreal breakout a tad tedious; what worked in the 60s and 70s doesn’t necessarily always work today.

But if ever there were perfect casting it must come in the form of Tom Hollander as Henry Carr. On his first entrance, you can’t help but be impressed at how Mr Hollander can bend himself down double to create the most elderly looking wretch imaginable as Carr Snr. With Dickensian dressing gown and warbly voice in place, he takes us through one of Stoppard’s longest and frankly self-indulgent prologue speeches as he introduces us to the glitterati of 1917 Zürich. And then, when he flips into Carr Jnr, he becomes a slightly pompous Everyman character; keen to take a good place in society, revelling in the fame and notoriety of his contemporaries, pretending to be more involved in their political and artistic movements than he really is, and willing to play Algernon if the trousers are right. He’s hardly ever off the stage and it’s a thoroughly demanding and terrific performance.

The rest of the cast give Mr Hollander excellent support – for me the best was Clare Foster as Cecily. We’ve seen her a couple of times, most recently as a stunning Sarah Brown in Chichester’s Guys and Dolls, and here once again she is outstanding. With her clear-cut voice and amazingly expressive face she can cheerfully deride and humiliate anyone who’s noisy in the library; and her hilarious set pieces with Amy Morgan’s Gwendolen are just remarkable. Freddie Fox was also very good as the faux-refined and show-offy Tzara, with a nice sense of comic timing and a good stage presence; and Peter McDonald made the best of the laconic opportunities Stoppard provides to make fun of Joyce’s irascible eccentricities.

It’s like a most intricate serving of super deluxe candy floss. Utterly delicious to look at, and incredibly sweet to consume, but once it’s gone, it’s gone. Does it inform the human condition? No. Is it an opportunity for Stoppard to look erudite and swish? Yes. Is it entertaining? Yes, providing you can survive its occasional longueurs.