Fallen Angels Revisited a Century On

Fallen Angels | Menier Chocolate Factory until 7th February

In its final two days of Fallen Angels at the Menier Chocolate Factory, Janie Dee and Alexandra Gilbreath sparkle in a centenary revival that fizzes with wit and period charm. A light, laugh-soaked tribute to desire and memory.

The play was first seen in London in April 1925 at what was then the Globe Theatre. Noël Coward’s second full-length comedy after The Vortex, it arrived right in the middle of the Roaring Twenties. Its frank suggestion that two married women might once have shared a passionate affair (albeit pre-marital), and might even enjoy talking about it, was enough to make the Lord Chamberlain’s Office uneasy. Not only was there frank discussion of marriage, but also the way the women get progressively drunk over the evening, which at one performance had an audience member shouting out in protest.

It has been revived now and again over the years, with the last London production some 25 years ago starring Felicity Kendall and Frances de la Tour, who, rumour has it, fell out spectacularly during the run. This centenary season, while intriguing, feels a little antiquated, as it clearly does not have the same impact now.

This production is skilfully directed by Christopher Luscombe, a master of the well-choreographed curtain call, but even he cannot fully disguise the thinness of the source material.

Janie Dee as Julia Sterroll and Alexandra Gilbreath as her best friend Jane Banbury are luminous, funny, increasingly intoxicated and then suffering the consequences the morning after. They carry the evening with a sure rhythm and chemistry, and even when the play feels flimsy, they work hard to keep things afloat.

One of the joys of the Menier, which I refer to as “the little theatre that could”, is how it configures itself differently for each production. Here, the audience is on two sides in a V, and in an era when sets are increasingly abstract and stylised, it is a delight to see a good old-fashioned set that is period-accurate, with costumes and props likewise.

Around Dee and Gilbreath, Christopher Hollis and Richard Teverson as the bewildered husbands offer sturdy support. I was a little uncertain that we were seeing Waiting for Maurice, but he does eventually appear after the interval in the suitably suave form of Graham Vick.

However, it is Sarah Twomey’s relentlessly well-rounded maid, Saunders, who steals every scene she is in. She can dance, she knows Russians, she knows French. She can play the piano, knows everything about food, and knows a great deal more than her masters or mistresses. Coward wrote fabulous parts for maids and, although he has a reputation for being very upper-class, that was carefully constructed. He came from working-class roots, which may help explain this.

The play was quite scandalous at its premiere and, of course, it is now robbed of any such impact. What remains is a very light soufflé, which I did not feel rose particularly to the necessary heights.

If you are a Noël Coward completist, this final-two-day run offers a rare chance to catch a seldom-performed play, as I fear it may be another 25 years before we see it on stage again.

Noël Coward’s enduring influence on British theatre is explored in detail by the Noel Coward Trust, which preserves his work and legacy.

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