‘Hay Fever’ review
‘The creative team knocked it out of the park; a statement which I think can justly be applied to the entirety of Hay Fever at large.’
Noel Coward’s writing is notoriously wonderful in its wit, pace and unique turns of phrase. It would be very easy to simply trust the text to do most of the work. The cast and crew of Hay Fever have no interest in that, and it makes for a truly vibrant show.
The acting is top draw across the board. Cara Crofts is very impressive as the maid, Clara (no relation). Her French accent slips at times but is largely very authentic, and adds to her wonderfully naturalistic charm, floating around the set as if she’s known it for years.
Ben Oliver is eerily convincing as the acerbic father, David Bliss, not patriarchal or domineering but nevertheless a presence; eminently watchable in his more quietly flamboyant physical and tonal characterisation, and moreover, so believable when he moans about the of writing his book. It’s so vivid, you can almost smell the study he’s just come from. Alannah O’Hare is hysterical, and like her stage husband, manages to capture nuances within her characterisation in a way that makes the whole thing feel so much more colourful. Her passive aggression is equal parts charming and aggrieving, and her melodramatic disposition never grows tiresome. She commands the stage.
Martha Buttle is positively electric throughout as Sorrell, the silver-tongued Bliss daughter. She brings a particular authenticity to her portrayal and masters, in particular, the physicality of sharp-camp old money; never loosening her tight-held, steely focus. Her stage brother, Samuel Bentley, is, as ever, effortlessly funny as the Orsinic son Simon, though his romantic insecurity never dampens his métier: sardonic little asides. (Note: I have never used “metier” in actual conversation, it’s just that Noel Coward plays always make me talk like this). Sometimes the young Bliss duo’s reactions feel a little laboured as they work to keep up with their parents, but these exaggerated moments of flamboyance don’t stretch their characterisation too thin. Particularly in their duologues their brilliant stage presence and comic timing really shine.
Bentley drips infatuation (of the frivolous sort) in the scenes with Maariya Khalid, who plays Myra, the charismatic guest most able to match the Blisses. Khalid’s characterisation is more subtle than her co-stars but just as effective for it, and her emotional arcs, volatile as they are, are always very sympathetic regardless of whether they should be.
Liv Fancourt makes the most of every line she has, garnering a laugh in each neurotic pause, nervous chitter and poignant observation. Oscar Dunfield Prayero (born to be in a Noel Coward play for name alone), as the anxious, straight-laced Richard, looks constantly terrified throughout. It’s perfect.
Cillian Knowles is a standout as Sandy Tyrell, imbuing his character with a damp naivety. Even when not speaking he impresses greatly, perpetually expressive from troubled gaze to vacant, satisfied smile. From the moment he enters, his contrasting normalcy dilutes the Bliss’ ostentatious hegemony, without ever feeling manufactured. This in part, must be attributed to the directorial team of Abby Greenhalgh, and assistants Harriet Miller and Louis Rutman. It’s not the kind of play where direction is obvious but that’s because everything flows so naturally and instinctively; an outcome attributable to the cast's excellent chemistry, but primarily to the directing. There are moments of notably visionary blocking; nevertheless, David and Myra’s awkward flirtatious routine is a particular highlight.
The set is, as the Bliss clan would likely put it, positively stunning: a kind of nuevo-converted greenhouse, decorated delicately with mahogany tables, archaeological artefacts and flora abound. This is complemented by the inspired use of decking - a similarly decorative balcony - suggesting a mansion without overstuffing the space and restricting the action. Zara Hossain, the show's set designer, deserves much commendation. The lighting design by PMs Alex McAlmont and Evie Collins is also very much a part of the set, drowning the whole thing in a sea-green gradient which adds vibrancy to the scene.
I cannot finish this review without a nod to the costumes. They’re absolutely perfect; every character’s personality is summarised by their clothing without it swallowing them. Particular highlights include Sorell’s absurdly long chain of pearls which swing like a pendulum whenever she’s irate (so most of the second half) and Judith’s silk dress, which resembles a skinned peacock. The creative team knocked it out of the park; a statement which I think can justly be applied to the entirety of Hay Fever at large.
By Raish Holloway.