There are some actors who walk on stage and immediately make you understand why everyone else in the play is prepared to put up with them. Tracy-Ann Oberman is one of them.
As Geri Essendine in this bold new production of Noël Coward's Present Laughter, at Theatre Royal Bath until Saturday, September 5, Oberman succeeds wonderfully in playing a woman who is vain, selfish, demanding, adored and infuriating, yet somehow makes us want to spend the evening in her company.
Coward's 1939 comedy has been given a considerable makeover. The obvious change is that Garry Essendine has become Geri, but director Lindsay Posner and Oberman have gone further, transplanting the action to New York in 1977 and the glittering world of Studio 54.
It is a clever decision. The original's world of theatrical celebrity, sexual intrigue and desperate attention-seeking sits surprisingly comfortably beneath the mirrored disco ball. The period may have changed, but human nature certainly hasn't. The gender switch also gives the familiar comedy some intriguing new dimensions. This Present Laughter certainly doesn't feel like a museum piece.
Geri is a hugely successful actress preparing to leave for an overseas tour. Unfortunately, her private life is considerably more complicated than her professional one. Admirers arrive, lovers make demands, old relationships refuse to stay old and those around her struggle to keep her extraordinary life functioning. Then everything begins to unravel.
This is where Present Laughter really comes alive. Coward's dialogue may look effortless on the page, but it demands precision. Every pause, interruption, raised eyebrow and perfectly timed entrance matters. The comedy depends upon actors appearing spontaneous while delivering dialogue with almost musical timing.
This production understands that. There is a wonderful sense of momentum as Geri's carefully controlled world becomes progressively less controllable. Characters arrive at precisely the wrong moment, revelations pile up and intelligent adults behave spectacularly badly.
Oberman is at the centre of it all. Her Geri isn't simply a female version of Coward's original. Instead, the gender switch allows us to consider what happens when a woman occupies the privileged, narcissistic territory traditionally given to a male theatrical star.
The result is fascinating. Geri can be imperious one moment and vulnerable the next. She recognises the absurdity of everyone around her while remaining almost blind to her own contribution to the chaos. That contradiction makes her funny. More importantly, it makes her human.
It also gives Coward's observations a surprisingly contemporary edge. Watching a successful woman display the same entitlement traditionally associated with the male star inevitably makes us reconsider our assumptions about ageing, sexuality, ambition and celebrity.
James Dreyfus makes an excellent foil as Monty, while Adrian Lukis brings charm and authority to Len. The supporting company keep the increasingly frantic machinery turning with impressive precision.
Lindsay Posner's direction maintains the pace without allowing the production to become frantic for its own sake. There is room for the wit to land, for the characters to breathe and for occasional glimpses beneath the comedy.
At its heart is someone who has spent a lifetime being adored and is beginning to discover that adoration isn't necessarily the same as love. Geri needs the people around her, even while complaining about them, while they need her for affection, opportunity or simply the reflected glamour of celebrity.
Peter McKintosh's design provides the necessary glamour, while Richard Howell's lighting and Adam Cork's sound and composition create a world in which the party seems permanently underway. It looks stylish, expensive and appropriately larger than life.
Yet the biggest achievement belongs to Oberman. She understands that the trick with Geri isn't to make us like her. It is to make us fascinated by her.
There are moments when the modernising instincts feel slightly more obvious than necessary, and the pace occasionally threatens to run away with itself. These are minor reservations, however, in a production that has found a fresh reason to revive a play that could easily have become a period curiosity.
Instead, this Present Laughter feels alive: glamorous without being superficial, contemporary without being preachy and, above all, extremely funny.
Share