A little light satire isn’t everyone’s thing; neither is 19th Century Russian comedy. Still fewer would claim to be a fan of the Russian writer Nikolai Gogol. Yet on exiting Sunday’s press preview for The Government Inspector I experienced a bizarre renewal of interest in all three. It seems this year’s garden shows had better step up their game, as the Univ Players’ delightful production has already set a high standard.

Gogol’s play is essentially a comedy of errors in which the impoverished aristocrat Khlestakov is mistaken for a dreaded government inspector. The inspector, whose imminent arrival strikes fear into the hearts of the Mayor and his apathetic townspeople, has been sent there to rid the town of corruption. But when Khlestakov realises the extent to which he can exploit this predicament to pay off his debts, and pocket a bit of cash, a characteristically Russian farce ensues.

Refreshingly funny, The Government Inspector is light and whimsical – more gently amusing than laugh-out-loud entertaining. Nevertheless, I thoroughly enjoyed the frothiness Jack Peters has procured from Gogol’s script – the original production of the play was only put on at the personal intervention of Tsar Nicholas I, so mocking was the satirical strain. Of course, we don’t live in Tsarist Russia and the political implications of Gogol’s comedy will probably fly silently over most of our heads. But even I know corruption is bad and therefore I was, and I’m sure you’ll be, receptive enough to interpret the play’s moral.

James Skinner, playing the foppish Khlestakov with more than a dash of Boris Johnson, is effortlessly funny as the man who serendipitously finds refuge in this corrupt town. Felix Legge gives a winning performance as the crooked Mayor; he might be the quasi-villain of this piece but it’s quite hard not to root for his particular brand of misplaced cunning. Whilst the rest of the Univ Players do a lovely job of representing the caricatures of village life – this after all is a satire with little concern for verisimilitude – there are one or two weak links in what is an almost great ensemble. Also noteworthy is Rosaline Elbay as the Mayor’s wife who gives a pitch-perfect performance as the spouse of a bourgeois official.

Of the garden show previews I’ve seen this term The Government Inspector is the one most suited to the genteel setting of the Oxford college garden. A little light satire isn’t everyone’s thing – but the way Univ Players do it, it certainly should be.

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3214%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3218%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3215%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3216%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3217%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3205%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3212%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3206%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3213%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3209%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3211%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3208%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3207%%[/mm-hide-text]

[mm-hide-text]%%IMG_ORIGINAL%%3210%%[/mm-hide-text]

Two girls, one wall, (and thankfully the resemblance to a certain YouTube clip possibly invoked by such a description ends there). 

This new writing by Tim Keily is his exploration of the forging of relationships. Whilst Mona’s in the middle of a breakup, Bea’s embroiled in an affair. As the two next door neighbours live side by side, they begin to sense and affect one another. In a simple, symmetrical pair of rooms, separated by an invisible wall, a stark atmosphere is evocatively created. Watching this play there is the potential for an audience to feel as self-aware as the exposed minds of the characters and when Bea’s mobile rang several people sheepishly silenced their own- certainly a testament to the effect theatre can have.

In this play, the more well-established fourth wall takes a relative backseat, while the imaginary bedroom wall takes centre stage (both literally, and, well, not…). This exists as a conceptual barrier rather than a literal representation, giving the actors the opportunity to convey its existence more creatively than if there was a real barrier. Unfortunately this opportunity seems to have been missed in the extracts shown, with Mona (Georgia Waters) and Bea (Olivia Madin), both of whom give very watchable performances in other respects, doing little more physically than ‘connecting’ with a painfully wavering and often repeated palm-to-palm gesture in order to locate each other. 

Imaginary paint and plaster aside, Waters and Madin create a startling contrast between their characters. Mona’s psyche is as cluttered as her room, her movements feverish and tense; Bea is ever-composed, simultaneously languid and wiry, with a confidence which becomes slightly sinister within the context of the landscape of exposed thought. The play opens with a duologue composed of disjointed phrases, well timed in order to produce occasional phrasal links between the two sides of the wall. The separation of their dialogue furthers an impression of the remoteness of their connection; Mona’s subsequent shrieks of “No understand! Yes?” in pigeon English serve as a testament to the impossibility of true communication.

These extracts served to showcase the germination of a set of great ideas. There is an overall impression of the potential to propel the two women towards something fascinating and disturbing, and I very much look forward to finding out what.