J B Priestley is most well-known these days for his mighty moral fable, An Inspector Calls. Yet such GCSE syllabus recognition ignores the rest of a sizeable body of work that was previously much celebrated, including this comedy, written in 1938 but set 30 years earlier. It takes a deceptively light-hearted look at some weighty issues and what a rare and delightful tonic it is, in these sobering times, to sit in a “serious” theatre and hear warm gales of laughter echoing around.
Any show that starts with a Gracie Fields song – “The Biggest Aspidistra in the World”, in this case – gets extra marks from me and earthy elderly maid Mrs Northrop (Janice Connolly, full of mischief) encourages us to join her in singing the refrain. An enormous pot plant, taller than the wall of this elegant sitting room, is a gentle hint that we might not be expected to take what follows entirely at face value.
Three respectable Yorkshire couples – the men of which are pillars of the local community – have gathered to celebrate their silver wedding anniversaries. Pride and pomposity abound – until the shock revelation that the young vicar who officiated at their ceremonies was not officially authorised, meaning they are not legally married. The ramifications of this, in a social structure that values respectability above all else, are immense, as, more quietly, are the emotional implications. If they are not now contractually obliged to stick to their spouses, will they choose to do so?
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Director Tim Sheader offers a rollicking festive production that positions fun firmly front and centre. After the pivotal reveal, Beyonce’s “Single Ladies” is the music that wittily accompanies the three women’s next entrance. Maria Helliwell (Siobhan Finneran, making a welcome return to the theatre after many years on television) is slightly aloof, a former factory girl made good; Clara Soppitt (Samantha Spiro) reserves a glorious sneer of vinegary disdain for her perpetually henpecked husband Herbert (Jim Howick).
Best of all is Sophie Thompson as the timid Annie Parker, a weary wife who gradually finds her voice and speaks her mind to her overbearing stuffed shirt of a spouse, Albert (Marc Wootton). “I know me own mind,” says he, imperiously. “Sometimes I wish you’d keep a bit of it to yourself,” she replies.
An increasingly sozzled photographer from the Yorkshire Post (Ron Cook, joyous) is also at large, as egos are pricked, social standings given a good shaking and home truths told as the inebriation level rises. I haven’t laughed so much at a play in a long time. What a glorious way to wrap up the theatrical year.
To 7 February (020 3282 3808, donmarwarehouse.com)
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