A Choice of Coward brings together four of the most popular plays by the renowned English comedy writer Noel Coward, split over two discs. The series, which was composed of televised plays, was originally broadcast in 1964 as part of the ITV Play of the Week series. These productions were made a few decades after the plays were written, but are specially introduced by Coward himself. Sadly, the aging playwright comes across as pompous and dismissive of the changing zeitgeist of British theatre, and doesn’t so much introduce his plays as use three minutes of screen time as a soap box to defend his choice of writing mostly farce, and to pour derision on the “humourless” plays of the 1960s. Thus, the introductions aren’t terribly endearing; and Coward speaks much better through his work.
Present Laughter was, as Coward himself admits, written as a star vehicle where all the characters are subservient to the central role. Thankfully, the main part of middle-aged actor Garry Essendine is tremendous fun, and the farce is full of genuine laughs and great lines. The presence of Peter Wyngarde in the lead role instantly confirms an urbane and captivating central performance. Wyngarde, who went on to considerable success as the suave Jason King, is perfect as Essendine, filling him with self-importance, sophisticated wit and a tendency towards melodrama. Amongst sub-plots of extra-marital affairs, Garry is visited by admirers including young women and a playwright from Uckfield by the name of Roland whose work Garry has rashly promised to read. Cue a supporting role for a very young James Bolam, who makes the fanatical and obsessive Roland suitably lively and deranged. The excellent performances make Present Laughter a palpable hit, and the insubstantial farce plot is played out with pace and conviction, making the show an enjoyable treat.
Blithe Spirit is a play about a successful novelist, Charles Condomine, who invites a wizened old medium, Madame Arcati, to his house to hold a séance as part of his research for a novel. It all goes wrong when the incompetent medium accidentally brings Charles’s late first wife back from the spirit world, and a farce of hauntings is unleashed. In this production, Madame Arcati is played by legendary Carry On actress Hattie Jacques, who was no stranger to light comedy farce. Condomine is played by Griffith Jones, who appeared in just about every single cult British television show in the 1960s. The simple effects of poltergeist activity are adequately achieved for television, and it is another competent production.
The Vortex, which was Coward’s first big success on stage, contains some surprisingly weighty subject matter, such as cocaine addiction amongst the upper classes, repressed homosexuality, and the sexual licentiousness of the main character’s mother. Margaret Johnston and Nicholas Pennell are excellent as mother and son, and the light comedy evaporates completely during the emotionally charged showdown at the end, where the two leads are spellbinding. Design for Living, which stars the excellent Daniel Massey in a supporting role as a complete cad; and Monty Python’s Carol Cleveland in a small role, is familiar Coward territory and treated faithfully by this production. It’s set in the artist’s haven of Paris, and in the ramshackle apartment of a painter, who is visited by a succession of playwrights and art dealers, and deals particularly with the three-way relationship between the three leads.
It must be admitted that theatre seldom works entirely satisfactorily on screen, and that by far the best way to enjoy a play is to see it staged. However, television in the 1960s bore a much closer relationship to theatrical tradition than it did to the current field of reference – cinema; and as such these plays almost certainly wouldn’t be anywhere near as enjoyable if made for television now. The simplicity of the camerawork allows the action to stay on the characters, and the plot is revealed through dialogue rather than action. One downside is that the actors would have had far less time to prepare and rehearse in the pressures of the studio, with the productions shot more or less as live television. Whilst the tremendous actors involved do excellent jobs, their performances probably aren’t quite as sharp and honed on screen as a long run in a theatre would have allowed. Nevertheless, whilst these films were shot on tape, in black and white and in the studio, the presence of some of the best British character actors of all time and the quality of the writing ensures that revisiting these television treasures is a worthwhile pursuit.
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