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 – The Buddha of Suburbia, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 30th April 2024

“Buddha of Suburbia?” I hear you ask. “Wasn’t that the TV series in the 1990s that was full of sex? Disgusting, I tell you.” I didn’t see the programme, so I can’t vouch for its content, and nor – unlike most of the rest of the world – have I read Hanif Kureishi’s best-selling book. But I have seen Emma Rice’s production of the RSC/Wise Children co-production of Rice and Kureishi’s own stage adaptation, on at the Swan Theatre until 1st June, and believe me, it’s the best thing since sliced chapatis.

Disco timeKarim greets the audience and welcomes us back into the England of May 1979. Ah yes, I remember it well… the winter of discontent, National Front members roaming the streets, and the upcoming electoral victory of a grocer’s daughter from Grantham. Happy days. If that wasn’t nostalgic enough, we then go back to 1976, to visit the domestic bliss of 17-year-old Karim’s homelife; his yoga-loving father Haroon, his dowdy mum Margaret, his cheeky auntie Jeeta, his grumpy uncle Anwar, his bestie Jamila, and the love of his life, Charlie.

ProtestOver the next three hours or so, we witness Karim’s journey to adulthood, through sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll; or, rather, fabulous trashy 70s disco which is even better. Relationships, his first acting job, and what the young people of today call adulting – it’s all there. It reminded me a little of the picaresque escapades of Nicholas Nickleby – only without the sex. It isn’t a journey without its problems; mind you, who’s is? For a young man who appears to think a lot, Karim makes a few reckless decisions, leaving others hurt in his wake. But he achieves an enviable personal sense of being at ease with everything that life can chuck at him; lucky lad.

SetIt’s very rarely that every single aspect of a production comes together so stonkingly well. The script is affectionate, insightful, bouncing with comic observations and stunning use of language. Rachana Jadhav’s intricate, compact and yet hugely versatile set manages to convey living rooms, bedrooms, gardens, shops… you name it, it conveys it. Vicki Mortimer’s outstanding costume design picks up all the delightful eccentricities of the 1970s: flares, gaudy colours, cowboy jackets, tunics, and above all, the primary coloured Jockey Y-Fronts that were all the rage. The show is accompanied by a superbly chosen range of music of the era, and choreographer Etta Murfitt has gone to town recreating those marvellously silly dance routines we used to do back in the day. Even elements such as Kev McCurdy’s fight direction and the superbly convincing range of accents are top-notch, as Changez might say.

MatthewEmma Rice’s direction brings out so many superb individual performances and the show is peppered with hilarious and telling moments that say so much about a character or a situation with fleeting wordless eloquence; such as the casual flicking out of belly-button fluff or the subtlest of knowing glances. There’s also the most inventive use of fruit ever seen on a stage; be warned!

KarimEvery single member of the cast pulls a brilliant performance out of their respective hats. It all starts and ends with Dee Ahluwalia’s captivating Karim, a character who instantly wins you over with his honesty, approachability and charisma, and provides an unbreakable link with us over the whole three hours. It’s an astonishing central performance that’s a major step on the way to making him a star.

YogaAnkur Bahl is also fantastic as his father Haroon, essentially a weak and conceited people-pleaser who spends more time attending to his own needs than anyone else’s; he’s an excellent yogi too! He makes a terrific contrast with Bettrys Jones’ brilliant vision of dowdiness, Margaret, a mass of unkempt hair and suppressed artistic talent. Ms Jones is also excellent as Eleanor, with whom Karim has his first proper relationship; she’s on her own journey that does not necessarily include him.

ChangezNatasha Jayetileke gives a strong performance as the unruly free spirit that is Jamila, beautifully ill-matched with Raj Bajaj’s innocent-abroad Changez whom her family have chosen for her to marry. Mr Bajaj provides some of the best laughs but also some truly moving moments as he accepts he’s never going to get everything he wants. Rina Fatania delivers stunning performances in all her roles – Auntie Jeetathe irrepressible Auntie Jeeta, the deliciously lascivious Marlene and the politically correct actor Tracey. Ewan Wardrop gives a sensational performance as the pompous and pretentious director Matthew Pyke – with possibly the best line in the show, addressed to an audience member.

Charlie and KarimLucy Thackeray shines as Haroon’s sophisticated second love interest Eva, and Simon Rivers portrays Anwar’s cantankerous and spoilt inner child to perfection. And Tommy Belshaw takes your breath away as he conveys Charlie’s rise as a super-confident and charismaticEnsemble young man, followed by his subsequent fall as a dashed and destroyed dependent, wasting away before our eyes.

JamilaNot one weak spot in the production; and not one thing I wish they’d done differently. Emma Rice always makes you think and surprises you with unexpected tweaks and quirks, but here she has truly excelled herself. Incredible characterisations, superb performances, brilliant direction; a production to relish.

 

 

Production photos by Steve Tanner

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Empress, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th July 2023

Tanika Gupta’s The Empress first arrived at the Royal Shakespeare Company ten years ago directed by Emma Rice, but here we have a brand new production, now with Pooja Ghai steering the directorial helm. It’s also the first show at the Swan Theatre under the new leadership team of Daniel Evans, Tamara Harvey and Catherine Mallyon. Welcome all!

RaniThe Empress traces the varying fortunes of a handful of characters who emigrated to Britain from India in 1887. 16 year old Rani Das is an ayah – that’s a children’s nursemaid – to a well-to-do English family. Another is a young man named Abdul Karim; there’s also the politician Dadabhai Naoroji, and a wannabe lawyer named M. K. Gandhi (yes, that Gandhi). They all travel on the same ship – and one of the lascars (sailors) on board, named Hari, notices young Rani and pretty much falls in love with her on the spot. On arrival in England, Rani is instantly dismissed by her employers – no employment protection in those days – thus becoming homeless. However, Hari takes her to a boarding house (or should that be bawdy) run by the rough-exterior but kind-hearted Lascar Sally. But this environment is no place for Rani and she quickly absents herself – Hari tries to find her but with no success.

Karim, Victoria, SarahMeanwhile Karim has surfaced as a new young waiter for none other than Her Majesty Queen Victoria. The play then follows the adventures of Rani and Karim; for her the only way is down until she can start climbing back up, and for him the only way is up until the establishment start getting their revenge on him. If you’re familiar with the film Victoria and Abdul then you’re well acquainted with the story of their unusual friendship, and how she elevated him to being her munshi (teacher) – and to be honest, the film gives you much more detail and insight into their relationship than you’ll find in The Empress.

VictoriaHowever, what’s very entertaining is the way that Victoria is reinvented in this play as a rather mischievous person with a keener sense of humour than you might otherwise imagine. It’s that characterisation that makes the Victoria/Karim thread of the story more interesting than the Rani/Hari aspect. One ought to respond emotionally to Rani’s plight and share in her despairs and later joys – but, strangely, somehow, one doesn’t. I found her story in the first act, where she veers from disaster to disaster, oddly cold and unemotional, passive and detached. Her story becomes more interesting in the second act when she starts making a life for herself, re-introduced to Naoroji, building a place for herself in the world. There is a happy ending for Rani – but I confess I found it rather far-fetched.

On board shipBlending fact and fiction, there is a strong narrative here – in fact two separate strong narratives – but they’re crowded out by the production’s obsessive use of music. Background music appears almost everywhere. Yes, it’s beautifully played under the direction of Hinal Pattani, but it has the effect of mollycoddling the hard-hitting aspects of the story with an overwhelming wave of slushy sentimentality. The scene, for example, where Rani is deciding whether her future lies with the man of her dreams or forging her own political career is muted by this blanket of superfluous romantic music – it’s as though the conversation took place in a hotel lift in Mumbai.

Abdul KarimThe Empress is a slightly odd blend of straight drama, interrupted by a few musical numbers – I accept it’s just possible that an early version of Bless Em All could have been sung by sailors at the time but it just feels anachronistic – and a spot of dance fantasy too. Most of the time these musical moments feel very out of place. However, there is a scene towards the end, where Karim promises to bring India to Victoria as she could never get there herself; and it reminded me of one of those strange – but also strangely effective – dream ballet sequences in the likes of South Pacific and Oklahoma. Bharatanatyam dance – beautifully executed by Tanya Katyal, exotic sweetmeats, lavish silks, all the sights and sounds of India are visited upon Victoria who laps it up like an excited child. A vivid dream shortly before her death? Some kind of medically induced hallucination? Or just a stage device for a bit of music and movement? I’m not sure – but, bizarrely, it works.

StagingOtherwise, the production looks good; simple, unobtrusive but authentic stage design from Rosa Maggiora and excellent costumes reflecting both the British and the Indian traditions at play. And the show benefits from having uniformly first-rate performances all round. Alexandra Gilbreath stands out as the surprisingly impish Queen Victoria, her grumpy frown (when used) belying her usually hidden inner charm. You really feel the anger and resentment when the officials, led by her unseen son Bertie, demand that she retracts the privileges she has granted to Karim – stressed and annoyed, she even mixes up her own pronouns of “we/our” and reverts to “I/my” in a very nice touch of 19th century misgendering. Francesca Faridany makes for a good sparring partner in the form of her lady in waiting, Lady Sarah, protecting Victoria from the inappropriate advances of her munshi and frequently getting into trouble for it.

NaorojiRaj Bajaj cuts a commanding and dignified figure as Karim and subtly shows us how he started to lord it over more minor characters as his fortunes rose – for example by politely patronising the artist whom Victoria has engaged to paint his portrait. Tanya Katyal is also excellent as Rani, a wide-eyed innocent youth who develops into a self-assured and perceptive woman. Aaron Gill gives a good performance as the rather reckless Hari, Avita Jay is a delightfully feisty Firoza and Simon Rivers is a strong, benign presence as the first British Indian MP Naoroji. There’s also excellent support from Nicola Stephenson as Lascar Sally, Miriam Grace Edwards as Georgina, Sarah Moyle in a number of roles including Rani’s unkind employer, and Oliver Hembrough as the lascivious Lord John Oakham.

HariRather like India herself, The Empress is a melting pot of narrative, style and imagination. Sometimes the story suffers from excess sentiment, sometimes it’s powerful and telling. But even when it’s at its weakest, it’s still rescued by excellent performances. Enjoyable, but somehow you feel it could just be a bit better than it is.  The Empress continues in rep at the Swan Theatre until 18 November 2023, and also plays at London’s Lyric Hammersmith between 4 – 28 October.

Production photos by Ellie Kurttz

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – Tartuffe, RSC Royal Shakespeare Company, Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 18th September 2018

Here’s a recipe for an innovative night at the theatre: first take your Molière, one of the all-time comic geniuses. He knew precisely how to structure a comedy, create larger than life but recognisable characters and put them into a ghastly but hilarious situation where they have to sink or swim. Then take two modern masters of comedy, the writers Anil Gupta and Richard Pinto, responsible for such landmark TV programmes like Goodness Gracious Me and The Kumars at Number 42, not to mention Citizen Khan (I won’t mention Citizen Khan because it’s awful). Blend delicately and what do you get? A Tartuffe for the 21st century, set within a British Pakistani Muslim family in Birmingham. The big question is, does that soufflé rise to the occasion of translating 17th century lampooning of religious hypocrisy successfully to the here and now?

Asif KhanMon Dieu, you cannot believe how beautifully the one fits into the other! Molière’s Tartuffe (a sufficiently piercing satire to warrant the King censoring it) is a religious directeur de conscience; a kind of domestic guru who wangles his way into a well-to-do family, and convinces the Master of the Household, Orgon, that his are the words of the angels, on a direct line from God. Therefore he must be obeyed, even if that means turning a blind eye to his having it away with the lady of the household, marrying their unwilling daughter and virtually stealing the house and business from under their nose. Observing and commenting on the madness is Dorine, the maid who is the confidante of all and sundry and is more intelligent than the rest of them put together. Only when the unwitting idiot of a Master finally gets the ocular proof that his noble houseguest is a roué and a vagabond does he finally tumble to his own vain stupidity. But Tartuffe has something else up his sleeve, and tries to get Orgon arrested for possession of incriminating letters.

Michelle BonnardMessrs Gupta and Pinto have transported Orgon and his family to Small Heath, where they have become the Pervaiz family; he a wealthy businessman, on to his glamorous second wife Amira, living with his vacuous son Damee, progressively-educated daughter Mariam and his old mother Dadimaa (who is straight out of The Kumars – Meera Syal should sue). Imran Pervaiz has been transfixed by one Tahir Taufiq Arsuf (Tartuffe), whom he has brought into his house, given him as much food and drink as he wants, allowed him take control of the fabulous Home Cinema system and has become thoroughly brainwashed by his charisma. He insists that Tartuffe marries Mariam despite her already being engaged to the drippy but well-meaning Waqaas; in a misplaced religious fervour he liberates his own mind and spirit by giving all his worldly possessions to Tartuffe so that he can use it for charitable purposes (err, I don’t think so.) When Pervaiz is eventually satisfied that Tartuffe is a sham, he too realises that an incriminating document is no longer where it should be… but has Tartuffe stolen it for blackmail purposes?

Simon Nagra and Asif KhanCliché time, but Molière’s timeless creation fits into this modern setting like a hand in a glove. The idea of a charismatic zealot, whether it be religious or political, a true celebrity who takes the usual brain settings of an otherwise sensible person, and puts them through the wash, is as relevant today as it was in the 17th century. Trump, Putin, Kim on the international stage; Farage, Rees-Mogg, Corbyn on the domestic. Plus ça change, as they say. It’s no surprise that at one stage Pervaiz puts his head in his hands and wishes he hadn’t voted Leave.

Salman Akhtar and Simon NagraGupta and Pinto litter the script with countless modern references which both delight and illuminate. During two-and-a-half hours, they cover (in no particular order) female emancipation, familial tensions between generations, politics, Windrush, marital trust, faith, sexual harassment, illegal immigration, Brexit, religious hypocrisy, Islamist fundamentalism, and much more. It’s never offensive, and, certainly, it never pokes fun at Islam; its target is simply the relationship between the manipulative trickster and the idiot who believes him. Never has the phrase “a fool and his money are soon parted” been more appropriate.

Raj BajajThis adaptation gets its point across by using terrifically humorous characters and a sparky, al dente text. There are a few passages where, in more than a nod to its original writer, the speech diverts into rhyming alexandrine couplets; there’s even a passing reference to Shakespeare and some other contemporary garçon (and I think we know who that is.) I liked the very clever use of accents to help create the characters; the Brummie voices of Damee, Khalil and Usman all help to suggest that they’re (sorry to say it, Midlanders) a bit thick; whereas Mariam’s Brummie accent strangely makes her sound more intelligent – but then she is always talking about protecting the interests of women in the sub-Saharan continent and complaining about heteronormative patriarchy.

Simon NagraBretta Gerecke’s design is a nice contrast between the plush surroundings of the Pervaiz family home and stark modernistic lighting tubes that fall into place to demarcate the indoors from outdoors. Iqbal Khan’s production brings in quite a few musical moments, some of which work better than others. Raj Bajaj’s Damee clearly sees himself as some kind of rap star and he is given a couple of chances to show off his style; even more proficient is the excellent (if you like that sort of thing) beatboxing from Riad Richie as Tartuffe’s assistant, Usman. The play begins with a very loud onslaught of musical mush coming through the headphones of Darina, the Bosnian cleaner; Black Sabbath, she confides in the audience, she’s a fan. Not entirely sure I am; it’s a bit of a brutal start. Sarah Sayeed’s traditional Punjabi music has been composed to reflect particular characters in particular moods; although these leitmotifs may work on paper, I found much of the incidental music throughout the play really distracting, and frequently too loud so that it drowns out the dialogue, which is exasperating as you know you’re missing out on gems but you just can’t hear them.

Riad Richie and Asif KhanMolière knows to keep his audience waiting and it’s a full fifty minutes before we meet our eponymous anti-hero. Asif Khan (who was superb in the Royal and Derngate’s A Passage to India last January) gives us a very larger-than-life portrayal of a man appearing to be conservative and clean but in fact a mere conman. He’s dressed in the most formal Muslim clerical clothing: traditional beard as low as you dare, and a pure white abaya robe to reflect the purity of his heart (as he would like you to think). He adopts a very lilting tone of speech, as though he were part speaking, part intoning the Qu’ran. This makes him sound like a truly holy man; which only makes the sham feel worse when you see how he’s manipulating everyone around him.

Zainab HasanThe whole cast put in tremendous performances. Simon Nagra is great as Imran Pervaiz; there’s an element of Omid Djalili in his delivery, but it’s none the worse for that. His wonderment at Tartuffe’s general gloriousness is a delightfully comic turn, and it makes a painful contrast with his fury at his family’s determination to cross him, insisting his daughter marry the wretch and banishing his son from the family home. Sasha Behar makes for a glamorous and fiery Amira, well able to take care of herself, and she brings out all the comic potential from the scene where she’s trying to trap Tartuffe so that her husband can see the deceit for himself. Raj Bajaj is excellent as the well-intentioned but essentially useless son Damee, either grinning inanely at life or trying to solve problems by fisticuffs; and Zainab Hasan is superb as daughter Mariam, proudly independent but fully knowing that she should obey her father, even though he is condemning her to a life of misery.

James ClydeAmong the supporting cast there are some great performances from James Clyde, as family friend Khalil, wont to pontificate ad nauseam much to everyone’s exhaustion, and from Salman Akhtar as the hapless Waqaas, firing up with anger at the prospect of losing his Mariam but essentially unable to fight his way out of a paper bag. And the whole show is held together by a star performance from Michelle Bonnard as Darina, keeping up lengthy conversations with the audience (even hoovering under their seats after the interval), taking the mickey out of her employer’s bromance, seeing right through Tartuffe’s pretence, and generally getting away with murder – but also looking after their interests, as is seen in the very last second of the play.

Amina ZiaAn immensely refreshing night out at the theatre – and you’re in awe of how neatly Molière’s original fits so neatly into the totally different environment. Hats off to everyone involved for a tremendous achievement. Tartuffe remains in rep at the Swan Theatre until 23rd February. Don’t miss it!

Production photos by Topher McGrillis