In a play which on the surface is a light confection of assumed and mistaken identities, Wilde has planted small petards under the certainties and complacency of middle and upper class England.  These are strewn with such profusion that before we can take stock of the effect of one, another has gone off to distract our attention. In script form they are, pro rata, fairly evenly distributed throughout the cast, with even Lane, the manservant, getting in on the fun. The voice of Wilde is everywhere to be found.

In this Original Theatre Company production, director, Alastair Whatley, has gone to some lengths to put some differentiating flesh on the Wildean bones and steered his cast into some interesting character choices.  Full to the brim with improbable conceits, conceited, immoderate in dress to the point of flamboyance, in Thomas Howes’, Algy, I was reminded of Mr Toad – exuberant and expansive in his green suit.  Mr Howes has an accommodating ear for the precision of Wilde’s epigrams, which are delivered at speed and are, therefore, weightless, blown away on the lightest breeze like sea foam. The effect is cumulative and seductive.

The object of his affections, Cecily, is played by Louise Coulthard, who has come up with a character in which the spirit of an eight year old and that of a twenty-two year old appear to be fighting it out for dominance – the younger one generally winning. Squawky and self-conceited, full of squeaks of disapprobation, hers is not a Cecily you will have seen before.  Whilst I am not one to insist that any character in any play be played in such and such a manner, I did find myself wondering quite what Algernon had found so irresistible in such an entertaining yet outlandish a creature.

Algy’s chum/brother, Jack Worthing (Peter Sandys-Clarke) by way of contrast, is given an air of semi-permanent, businesslike exasperation.  In contrast to her hapless quarry, Gwendolen, seems positively bumptious. Indeed the women in the play form the core around which the men fret and caper; a vision of the future perhaps.

Lady Bracknell (Gwen Taylor) cruising through the Home Counties under full canvas, complete with topsail in the form of millinery extravagance, is the beating heart of propriety, the ultimate dispenser of ‘soft power’.  She gives the line about the loss of parents as if it were as much a statement of fact as haughty reproach and the Beecher’s Brook of ‘that word’ she jumps with amused surprise.

Miss Prism (Susan Penhaligon) is revealed as a secret toper, which perhaps suggests a reason for her youthful forgetfulness in confusing the bassinet with the handbag, though whether cause or effect is another matter.  Her little weakness also allows her to be as amusingly forward as she is with the accommodating Dr Chasuble (Geoff Aymer).

This has everything a touring production should have: a classic script and fine performances to bring it to life.   ★★★☆☆    Graham Wyles   28^th February 2018