IS THIS fluffy 1926 farce worth reviving? Dominic Dromgoole, who is soon to swap his artistic directorship of the Oxford Stage Company for another at Shakespeare’s Globe, evidently thinks so.
His charming production of Rookery Nook doesn’t entirely persuade you that Ben Travers’s comedy is a work of any substantial artistic merit. But it does embrace the play’s elegance, sauce and sweet silliness, so that the curtain has fallen before the fidgety dissatisfaction induced by its inconsequentiality really sets in. The increasingly frenzied action unfolds in a smart country house which, as designed by Jessica Curtis, resembles a glossy black and red Chinese lacquer jewellery box — the perfect setting for events that follow one another like a flapper’s slithering string of pearls.
Here, newlywed man about town Gerald Popkiss awaits the arrival of his young bride, while fending off the ministrations of his domineering sister-in-law Gertrude and her dopey, downtrodden spouse. When a nymph-like figure clad in nothing but pink silk pyjamas appears, pleading for sanctuary from her enraged German stepfather Putz, Gerald finds his recent vows receding rapidly from his memory. But he has competition from his bachelor cousin, Clive — and there will be hell to pay if the psychotic Putz or — worse — Gertrude finds out what he’s up to. There’s a heightened quality to the performances that is entirely appropriate to the material and is delightfully theatrical.
Jane Murphy as the errant damsel in distress is lovely, minxy and delicately manipulative while, as Gerald, Benjamin Davies has a wide-eyed, ruddy-cheeked, schoolboyish quality that contrasts nicely with the more urbane charms of William Mannering’s Clive. Equally good are Fiona Battisby as Gertrude, whose shiny helmet of black hair looks as tight as her pinched voice sounds, and Susan Porrett as the interfering housekeeper Mrs Leverett, her disapproving face like a burst brown-paper bag. The racial stereotyping of Putz, even given a spirited rendition by John Dougall, is tiresomely crude; though Dougall also delivers two other fine cameos, as a lascivious local admiral and as Gertrude’s infirm mother, who careers around on a walking frame, fox fur swinging wildly.
The production is an uncomplicated pleasure, and Dromgoole orchestrates it with panache. It’s perfect for those in search of exquisitely executed lightweight entertainment; others might wonder whether that’s quite enough.