2005
Noises Off
By Michael Frayn
Dunstan Playhouse
Until 19 November, 2005
Murray Bramwell
Where would theatre be without the three door farce? In the century beginning with Feydeau and continuing to the Seventies and Eighties romps by Ray Cooney and Brian Rix, the antics of philandering husbands have been cut off at the ankles by the comedy of karma, circumstance and intersecting third parties. The titles tell it all – Run For Your Wife, Not Now Darling, Out of Order and Wife Begins at Forty. And the form was still in its West End heyday when, in 1982, Michael Frayn raised the stakes to seven doors with his classic send-up, Noises Off.
Noises Off are those off-stage sound effects designed to lend authenticity to the drama, but in Frayn’s play they refer to the barely suppressed calamities, collisions and emotional meltdowns of a troupe of actors rehearsing and touring Nothing On, a titillating tale of knickers and naughtiness intended for the audiences of Ashton-under-Lyne and Stockton-on-Tees. The curtain rises on a classic country house décor – with Tudor trimmings, a curving staircase, polished balustrade, bay windows and enough doors to lose a cast of nine.
Act One proceeds until interrupted by the stentorian tones of the director seated among us in the stalls. From there Frayn’s play ingeniously explores the ill-fated performance from the front, the back, the sides and finally -weeks on and in hysterical disrepair- we see to what the opening scenes have hilariously descended.
State’s artistic director, Adam Cook has returned to the helm for the final show of the year and Noises Off is a lively, diverting tribute to the theatre itself. Frayn’s gaggle of actors are familiar types and archetypes. Dotty Otley (amusingly played by Bridget Walters) has money in the show but is having trouble with props – does she take the sardines and leave the newspaper, or put down the phone and…? Selsdon Mowbray ( a droll turn from Dennis Olsen ) is having trouble with cues and has a liking for the scotch that has everyone on edge. Belinda (nicely managed by Caroline Mignone) is The Rock while Frederick (Geoff Revell in fine form) is especially brittle since his wife has up and left. Marco Chiappi is pivotal as Lloyd, the frazzled director who adds to own grief by serenading both the wide-eyed leading blonde, Brooke (Annie Maynard) and the stage manager, Poppy ( played with beagle-like devotion by Michaela Cantwell). Brett Hicks-Maitland also does well as Tim, the besieged stagehand.
Michael Habib is terrific as Garry Lejeuen, the leading man – hogging the scenes, blitheringly inarticulate and given to wielding an axe in moments of recrimination. Habib relishes the vanity of the character and gives us every kind of comic business from silly voices to silly walks – his staircase descents a running gag that, of course, only improves with repetition.
Generously lit by Gavan Swift, Graham Maclean’s set is fastidiously detailed and equally functional when reversed for the backstage scenes, Kathryn Sproul’s costumes capture not only the period of the play but the sub-Noel Coward motifs that the Cooney farces secretly yearn for. Frayn’s play is virtuosic in its plotting, and in the mirror-like structure between acts one and two. And, in making such demands on the agility and timing of his actors he can laugh at his characters and also celebrate their commitment to making the illusion work – even when the doors stick, the sardines are on the sofa and the blonde in the suspender belt is in the wrong cupboard for the next cue.
Adam Cook and his players have finished the year on a festive note with a display of dexterity and delight. It is perhaps a pity that the season does not stretch closer to the Christmas break, it is an ideal night for a works outing.
“Seven doors of slamming fun” The Adelaide Review, No.281, November 11, 2005, p.19.