PRESENT LAUGHTER
PRESENT LAUGHTER, New Theatre, 11 November-13 December 2025. Photography by Chris Lundie
In 1939, the outbreak of WW2 canceled the first production of Present Laughter before opening night. It was another two years before it reached the stage with its star and author, Noel Coward, and went on to tour around the UK, cheering audiences out of wartime gloom. This production, directed by Louise Fischer, is destined to do the same in 2025: make us forget for a few hours how shitful the wider world is right now.
Like so many Coward plays, Present Laughter is deceptively light and fluffy, while the foundations are solid rock. It has much to say, most of it comical, and was, as Coward famously noted, “written with the sensible object of providing me with a bravura part.” It’s a masterclass in elegant restraint and wicked lines, and is a joy for anyone hungry for language and laughter.
In short, Garry Essendine (Peter Eyers) is a fabled thespian whose life is all comfort, privilege, fawning acolytes, and drooling fans. He is preparing – actually, his ex-wife and manager, Liz (Molly Haddon), is preparing – to set sail for a tour of Africa. Meanwhile, sorting leading ladies and the muddlemuck of his various paramours, would-be paramours, proffered scripts, and luncheon engagements makes it all too exhausting. And this despite the solicitous presence of loyal butler Fred (Oliver Harcourt-Ham), elderly housekeeper Mrs Hamilton (Liz Grindley), and powerhouse secretary Monica (Emily Weare). All in all, Garry’s life is the kind of unbearable maelstrom one might find in a cocktail shaker.
On top of that, Garry has to deal, first thing in the morning, with the unexpected presence in the guest room of young and rapacious Daphne Stillington (Larissa Turton), the arrival soon after of would-be playwright, and recent resident of Uckfield, Roland Maule (Luke Visentin), as well as unseemly shenanigans between other members of the Essendine “family”.
In the 2019 UK National Theatre production of the play, a gender swap of characters was made that did what Coward was unable to do in 1939: Joanna Lyppiatt, friend and wife of producer Henry, became Joe, and a homosexual relationship was set up. In this instance, director Fischer has turned the tables with Henry becoming Hettie (Michaela Noonan) and, with Joanna played by Lib Campbell, barely an eyelid is blinked. It simply seems logical and Sydney. Not quite so much for producer Morris Dixon (Reuben Solomon), however, but as apoplexy is as everyday as over-acting in this milieu, it too seems the norm.
Set designer Tom Bannerman and lighting designer Michael Schell combine to make Garry’s luxe London flat both a living space and where a constant stream of farcical comings and goings, hiding places, ringing doorbells, and telephones appear quite reasonable. Similarly, the period(ish) costumes from Deborah Mulhall and Helen Kohlhagen are nicely right for each character, particularly Garry’s wardrobe of silk dressing gowns that lushly complement his Brylcreemed do and make the recurring motif of Garry’s affair with a mirror a droll delight.
Peter Eyers is a revelation as Garry/Noel. He anchors the production and is always centre-stage, as the urbane narcissist and twinkly mischief-maker. Eyers is ably backed up by a company that barely has time to draw breath between entrances and exits. Liz Grindley doubles as the patrician Lady Saltburn and makes it clear why all dip curtseys or bow in her direction. Molly Haddon and Emily Weare are as seriously comic as Coward demands, while Luke Visentin’s limpet-like presence is insanely irritating – in the best way.
There’s no program credit for an accent coach, but Larissa Turton, in particular, handles Upper Class Brit with ear-bleeding authenticity, while the company as a whole has also mastered the snip-snip clipped vocalese of early 20th century Empire with hilarious accuracy. All in all, despite inevitable opening night jitters and uneven pace, this sparkling Present Laughter is a gift, and a reminder that 90-minutes-no-interval is not the be-all and end-all of a great night out. Recommended without reservation.
