The Gate Theatre
The spectre of Charles Condomine's first wife quite literally haunts his second marriage in Noel Coward's witty and stylish comedy of mannerlessness. For what could be poorer form than to haunt one's former husband, especially when one wasn't the most faithful of wives while alive?
As a spoof, Condomine and his (human) wife Ruth invite Madame Arkadi round for a bit of a sΘance. Mystery writer Charles is looking for fodder for a new novel, and Ruth, along with Dr and Mrs. Bradman, are perhaps keen to spice up what can be their rather dull nights in Kent. They get more than they've bargained for, as they successfully conjure up Elvira to the tune of Always, to the chagrin of Ruth.
Despite the surprisingly sinister turn that events ultimately take, Coward's acerbic martini-and-cigarette repartee proves itself equal to any threatening heaviness of mood, and immediately sweeps us away in renewed mayhem.
This is quite obviously the Gate at its best: a handsome, well costumed cast inhabiting a gorgeous set and handling the barbed, innuendo-laden dialogue with ease, if with perhaps too much briskness.
Under Alan Stanford's vigorous direction, one too many lines are garbled in the need for speed. Yet physical fluidity makes up for any verbal stumbling, as each actor creates strong gestural cues for their characters: Fiona O'Shaughnessy leaps about the stage as lightly as a sprite, while Sinead Murphy's maid is slavishly dogged. Susan Fitzgerald's loopy Madame Arkadi was a real crowd pleaser, with Justine Mitchell and Risteard Cooper as the haunted Condomines playing the perfect brittle and waggish Coward couple. Bruno Schwegl's set perfectly accompanies the light-hearted proceedings, and is full of little tricks and twists that make the haunting enjoyable and surprisingly believable. Blithe Spirit is good, clean fun - as substantial as a cucumber sandwich, but with that bit more bite.
