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My memories of Jeeves and Wooster hark back to seeing Ian Carmichael and Denis Price on television in the 1960s, long before the roles were taken more definitely by
Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry. The useful programme notes to Roger Beaumont's production of Perfect Nonsense pointed to the lack of success of earlier stage
dramatisations of Wodehouse's novels and short stories, so the Goodall brothers were possibly taking a gamble when they adapted The Code of the Woosters
for the stage some three years ago.
But it really worked. I've rarely had such a fun time at the Bridewell Theatre as I did when watching three superbly talented actors give their all in a totally
madcap production. Therein lies my problem as a reviewer - how to fill a review with superlatives without boring the reader; if you saw the production you'll no
doubt agree with me - if you missed it no words of mine can properly convey the skill and artistry of the cast and production team.
Of course, David and Robert Goodall could have written a straightforward dramatisation with a large cast and complicated set changes. No doubt with a view to
cost-cutting and future productions they opted for a sort of "play within a play" concept which worked a treat. From the start when the audience encountered
Theo Leonard's Bertie Wooster, ensconced in his armchair as we entered the auditorium, we became participants in the play - the fourth wall effectively ceased to
exist. Not to labour the point too much, but merely as explanation for those who missed the play, Wooster illustrates the events of the last few days with the
assistance of William Baltyn's Jeeves and Aunt Dahlia's butler Seppings as played by Michael Bettell. The play calls for superb versatility as the latter two
characters assume the roles not merely of themselves but also of everyone else who crops up in the ludicrous tale of the precious silver cow creamer.
Theo Leonard was somewhat younger than the usual portrayal of Wooster, but his excellent performance made up for his lack of years. He certainly appeared more
Bullingdon Club than Drones Club. Nevertheless, his gauche stance and wide-eyed facial expressions were a joy to watch. William Baltyn was the consummate Jeeves,
forever calm in the middle of any storm raging and always ready with a simple solution to a seemingly impossible situation. Only he could have discovered Spode's
guilty secret as a covert designer of ladies' lingerie and thereby foiled his dastardly plotting.
And so we were drawn from the start into the hilarious world of Wodehouse mayhem as Bertie attempted to extricate himself from a series of more and more
wonderful mishaps, and Jeeves effectively stage managed the entire proceedings, while playing not only himself but also the fierce Sir Watkin Bassett of
Totleigh Towers, purchaser of the aforementioned much-desired cow creamer, the delightful Madeline Bassett, beautifully portrayed as a net curtain and a
lampshade, the chronically myopic Gussie Fink-Nottle and the hilariously hoydenish Stiffy Byng. The height of ingenuity was reached when Sir Watkin and
Stiffy had to hold a conversation with Jeeves managing to wear two half costumes at the same time.
Seppings meanwhile assumed the other multifarious roles starting with a superb portrayal of Bertie's dragonish Aunt Dahlia in a delightful powder blue number.
His tour de force, however, was definitely the ghastly giant Roderick Spode, leader of the black shorts, of course a thinly-disguised parody of Oswald Mosley.
Mr Bettell made up for his lack of inches by ingenious means including a chair on wheels where he could (literally) slip into character by putting his arms into
Spode's suit jacket. The comic invention throughout was a pleasure to behold and the theatricality really worked for me. Was I watching Messrs Baltyn, Bettell
and Leonard or was I watching Jeeves, Seppings and Wooster, or indeed was I watching the various inhabitants of Totleigh Towers - frankly I didn't care.
As always Roger Beaumont's set (and I've seen a few) worked remarkably well, seemingly expanding from the Wooster residence to the antique silver shop and
thence via a brilliantly staged car journey to the drawing room and bedroom at Totleigh Towers. The reversible flats were simple but very effective, even
to the extent of having a bed which served as a disguised entrance and exit from Bertie's bedroom. The bath scene at the start of the second act was
possibly a bit unnecessary (although I fondly imagined the overworked backstage crew carrying buckets of water from the kitchen during the interval -
as it turned out they didn't) but it only added to the overall jollity of the whole piece.
Congratulations to all involved.
Photography by Robert Piwko
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