Safely ensconced in the back of a cab on our way home from attending Private Lives at Belvoir (til 11 Nov in the Upstairs Theatre), my partner made an interesting comment:
"I really enjoyed that, but I can tell why some of the reviews said that if you were a traditionalist you probably wouldn't like it."
I was intrigued.
Private Lives, written by one of England's most revered playwrights, Noel Coward, is set in a hotel in 1930, where two couples - Elyot and Sybil and Amanda and Victor - are enjoying the first night of their second honeymoons. Enjoying, that is, until Elyot and Amanda, who were married some five years before and have since divorced, discover that their honeymoons are to be spent in adjoining hotel rooms. Despite assuring their current spouses otherwise, sparks ignite between Elyot and Amanda and they run away together to Paris, leaving their partners to team up to find out just what went wrong. The synopsis alone gives rise to a smile, and yes, this is very much a farcical comedy which thrives as much on witty dialogue as it does slapstick.
And yes, it is true that Belvoir's Artistic Director, Ralph Myers' Upstairs directorial debut is very much in keeping with the Theatre's boundary-pushing style. The three-acter has been condensed to just one, a 90 minute onslaught of dialogue and door slamming. Instead of toffee-English accents, the actors are encouraged to use their natural voices, and the lavish furnishings that typically dress a play set in France in the 1930s are replaced with a stark, white, near-naked set. And the musical choices are eclectic and travel between the decades without blinking. But do these artistic choices make the production unlikeable?
Overall, I have to agree with the majority of reviewers who have concluded that the production is a good one. It is as entertaining a night out as one would expect from a comedy at 'the little theatre that could'. But it does have a few flaws that prevent it from truly attaining the heights that I, and others, have come to expect from Belvoir...
First, lets address the absence of accent. "With this sacrilegious move he's revealed that Private Lives is a delightful, clever play and, in order to amuse and entertain a 21st century audience, it has no need of sepia-tinted reverence for things past... The humour and wit don't need on comic plummy accents to generate laughter - it's actually humorous and witty anyway." So says Diana Simmonds in Stage Noise (26 September 2012). I could not agree more. True, there are one or two odd words that jar the ear and distract the audience for a minute or two while they ponder how much the English language has changed ('I love the world to be gay' anyone?), but on the whole, the use of natural voice allows the text to shine.
So too does the extremely talented and very watchable Toby Schmitz, who's take on the usually pompous, sarcastic Elyot is assured and cool. Described by Simmonds as "tall, urbane, and good looking", Schmitz steals the show, and rightfully so. Schmitz delivers his punchlines quickly and cleanly, much like a 50's (M)ad-man, who drinks for amusement and never quite seems to be totally present (as if he - the character - would much rather be elsewhere). The only question mark over his performance relates to the issue of violence - it is a little hard to believe that someone so charming could be violent towards women.
Schmitz is matched admirably by Zahra Newman, who plays Amanda, the ex-wife who is oft overshadowed by her ex-husband. But Newman's take on the part is best summed up by Lloyd Bradford Syke as "a modern woman: strong; strident; self-assured; go-getting; assertively sexy" (see Syke's well-written review for Crikey on 1 October).
Unfortunately I cannot agree with Simmonds and Syke on their assessment of the other two main characters, Sybil, played by Eloise Mignon, and Victor, given to us by Toby Truslove. While both Simmonds and Syke give props to these two Belvoir regulars for their 'gifted' and 'skilled' performances (Syke even goes so far as to say Truslove "has set a whole new comic high-water mark"), I felt underwhelmed. I'm afraid I didn't truly believe Mignon's naive, girl-in-love Sybil, and felt perhaps the performance was a little one-dimensional. And while Truslove gave plenty of dimension to Victor, bringing his usual laid-back, hands-in-pocket, downtrodden-love-fool style to the role, it was the wrong fit for the play. A more awkward, stuffy, too-nice and too-uptight interpretation would have given the character play more balance.
And speaking of off-balance, while he is known for his design cred, Myers lets his Director-self down with his set design. This play calls for a number of doors, driving the action throughout. But just because the doors are the most important part of the set doesn't mean the rest should be thrown-out completely. Myers has gone with a single flat, white wall at the rear of the stage which houses the two afore mentioned doors, and a third entry/exit - a lift. The floor is the kind of awful stone-look lino that you seen in hospital corridors. By using the minimal approach, Myers has addressed the change of location from hotel to Paris apartment that is normally managed through an intermission or long blackout. But it just doesn't work with the action and dialogue.
"The absence of set creates some distracting problems for the actors to solve: where to put the cocktail glasses? What to do with the mattress?" says Jason Blake on Eight Nights a Week. The mattress he mentions is used playfully in the 'second act' by Elyot and Amanda as they rekindle their romance. It is dragged onto the centre of the floor in front of the elevator (which of course is in the apartment scene because the set hasn't changed). At the climatic end of the scene (apologies for spoilers) the elevator opens to reveal Sybil and Victor, who stare incredulously at Elyot and Amanda, rolling around the floor in throws of violence. Well, that's what's supposed to happen. The night we saw the show the problematic mattress was pushed too close to the elevator doors which caused an amateur-like set malfunction leaving one half of the lift open and forcing a slightly ruffled Truslove to await an unscheduled blackout.
The other key problem with the set (and the small number of props that are used) is that they do nothing to help the audience determine the era in which the action is now set. It could be 2012, but who listens to records in 2012? It could be the 1930s, what with the dialogue and references to telegrams and trunks, but then how does one explain the use of Phil Collins in the soundtrack (a moment which I will not go on to explain because it is by far and away the funniest moment of the entire show)?
Alice Babidge's costume designs don't help either. They're actually well suited to the characters and their situations, but other than placing them sometime in the late 20th Century don't do enough to truly 'date' the action.
Simmonds sums up the issue best when she says...
"The thinking behind all this is deeply unfortunate and if the cast and direction were any less than sparkling, could have led to disaster. As it is, the packed Sunday afternoon preview audience (I'm overseas for the opening) absolutely adored it and so did I - but I did passionately hate the set and the bicycle."
I couldn't agree more. An enjoyable evening, marked by a fantastic performance by Schmitz, in a production which showcases a great playwright. But I did hate the set! I guess I'm just traditional that way.
