I don’t think there’s a collective noun for ‘luvvie’. A stageful? An affectation? A flounce? The overt theatricality of the Bliss family in Coward’s Hay Fever, performed as part of Brasenose Arts Week, begs the question. Fading actress Judith, novelist husband David and their two bored children Sorel and Simon deliberately cultivate domestic drama, indulging in each other’s intrigues and using their guests as props in the family’s extended artifices. It is a play that neatly ticks the boxes of the thirties farce – whimsical witticisms, intricately tangled relationships, long strands of pearls and the 10.15 back to London – whilst also subtly parodying them.
In the deliberate melodrama of their every action, the characters become the conscious creators of the own Cowardian farce. Unbeknownst to the others, each member of the family has invited down a guest for the weekend – for Sorel, Richard, a sober diplomat; for Simon, the aging temptress Myra; for David, gawky flapper Jackie; for Judith, Sandy, a besotted young fan. But amongst much convoluted partner swapping, their guests are not so much love interests as victims. All affection is revealed to be affectation and even the audience struggles to decipher between pretence and reality. But as the Bliss’s games are revealed to us, we too take savage delight in the ghastliness of their theatricality and Coward’s arch satire of suburban bohemia.
Gags are slick and perfectly timed, with the pauses between Coward’s sparkling lines often as excruciatingly funny as the words themselves. Emily Lassman’s matriarchal Judith is a triumph, a hilarious meeting of ‘Leading Lady’ and ‘Lady of the Manor’ and a cut-glass delivery of thespian histrionics. But acknowledgement should go to each of the impressively strong female members of the cast – Sorel (Clare Pleydell-Bouverie)’s mixture of brattishness and sophistication; the languourous cynicism of Tori Mckenna’s Myra; Phoebe Griffith’s jaded French accent as the maid. Melissa Thorne was particularly good as Jackie, the flapper invited to be ‘studied’ by David, cultivating an innane, bambi-in-the-headlights grin that perfectly establishes her character’s dazed gaucheness.
Performed in a marquee in the grounds, with a croquet pitch to one side and a Pimms vendor to the other, the outdoor situation ties in almost unnervingly well with the play’s country house setting. Since the afternoon was a gloomy one it was a pity the lighting rig wasn’t made use of, but set and costume are both pitched just right – ‘period’ enough to anchor the characters in context without becoming too elaborate for a small and relatively cramped stage.
Though the beginning of the third act struggles slightly after the intensity of the second, the farce ultimately manages to maintain its freshness and Brasenose’s production is polished, superbly funny and easily rewarding. Bliss-ful hilarity in a summery setting.
