Noël & Gertie @ Mayflower Studios, Southampton
On yet another shameful day for Southampton, of bullying protesting self-appointed ‘patriots’ or haters and their flags outside a hotel, where the asylum seekers trying to live there are almost imprisoned behind a protective barrier, having no choice about where they’re placed or how long they’re placed there for, when flags are spitefully weaponised and aggressively attached to exclude not include, and I want to hang my head in shame at this display of ‘Englishness’…all you can do is add a lot of Noël Coward to life…
Following in the wake of Downton Abbey: The Grand Finale’s Coward outing, this play which thinks its a musical or musical with aspirations to be a play, focuses on the public stagey and, equally stagey, private lives of Noël Coward and Gertrude Lawrence. Framed through the songs and works of Coward, we get exerts from ‘Blithe Spirit’, ‘Brief Encounter’, ‘Private Lives’ and more. There’s elegance and sophistication, blasé snark and wit and a very rude verse to the end of ‘Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington’.
Mixing together the Jazz Age and musical hall, big sparkly American focused musicals and a certain kind of bohemian Englishness, modernity and tradition, there’s both passion and melancholy, jokes and veiled insults, with social shock value just for social shock values sake. Most of Coward’s plays are about people trying to be free and live freely, unconventionally, even if this means divorce, scandal or arguments. Gary Tushaw and Rebecca Trehearn are impeccably suave and sophisticated as Noël Coward and Gertrude “Gertie” Alexandra (Alice) Dagmar Lawrence-Klasen.
Meeting as stagey youth actors, Coward and Lawrence become instant lifelong friends, despite clashes of class, gender, family life and world outlook. Lawrence becomes associated with Coward, inspiring him and playing the characters he creates thrillingly. At the same time there are the frustrations between the friends: Lawrence is an unknown quantity on stage, a profligate spender, unlucky in love, a divorcee and soon a bankrupt. Yet both of them are struggling to be the people they want to be — publicly and privately.
Separated by stagey tours and oceans during World War Two, Coward and Lawrence keep meaning to meet up again — but they have time. Melding Brief Encounter, we get a tear-jerking denouement with lashing of sophisticated dressing gowns, and Lawrence and Coward’s own words, tunes and maybe even their dance steps.
They dance, sing, snark, pull a face, tease and adore each other — all whilst being terribly elegant and nimbly climbing up and down pianos stools. For much of this ‘entertainment’ is delivered from atop opposing pianos, ably played by Joey Hickman and Michaela Murphy. The positioning of the pianos can clutter the stage at times, which has a catwalk of a stage within a stage, sweeping Astaire-Rogers side staircases, an Art Deco surround and a gramophone, a hat stand and some chairs. And space to dance!
Most of all, this is about artistic friendship, of platonic love and appreciation, with the funny knowing of old friends, acting out how Lawrence will react. And the loss of that friendship, when suddenly isn’t there any more. At the moment, I think the first half of this Sheridan Morley penned work is stronger than the second, being full of delightful bon mots and dance routines. The second half is Brief Encounter dominated, more focused on Coward and Lawrence through the lens of Coward, hinting at the loss to come. Though are some lovely costumes, Lawrence still remains very delicate during her dance routine dressed as Berlington Bertie on the make type (heels and all), which is a bit strange. If there’s time for a shoe (indeed whole costume transformation) for Brief Encounter, surely some slip on spats or patent loafers could be provided. It’s meant to give us Judy Garland in Easter Parade, but instead never convinces as Lawrence capers very elegantly female in her Piccadilly suit and top hat. Though Rebecca Trehearn’s hand and arm movements are dainty and exquisite to look at.
We get all the details of Lawrence’s personal life, but not Coward’s — although both were having professional careers and private lives. This skews things a bit. But you also have to go with it, as we’re seeing Lawrence’s life as literal art, her everyday life being performances (with herself as star, camerawoman, director and producer) and Coward trying to make it, whilst hiding from the Law and public shaming.
Yet, as flags were snarled at the hotel asylum the government had told its dwellers to seek and remain in, Coward and Lawrence make the world better!
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