I'm not sure what it is about late 19th century English theatre that its most frivolous works, the plays of Oscar Wilde and the operettas of Gilbert and Sullivan, are what's most frequently revisited - but certainly, they're constantly being rediscovered and re-explored. Between last year's run at Smiths alternative and the Sydney Theatre Company doing a season next year, Earnest is an evergreen, brisk comedy of egos, love, money, and deception, always welcome (and, for the enterprising theatre company, possessing both name recognition and the benefits of being out-of-copyright).
The Hub's end-of-year production plays delightfully with Wilde's text, relocating the action to a somewhat-then-somewhat-now cabaret where modern songs get Post-Modern-Jokebox-style remixes into cabaret standards, sung largely by two not--in-Wilde performers, The Downlows (Louiza Blomfield and Dave Collins), though with assistance from some of the more musically-inclined other performers in the show. Utilising the cabaret setting to the fullest with the audience scattered around at tables (and occasionally moved on from act-to-act to allow the performers to occupy a new area) it's great to feel immersed in the nonsense as the young attempt to get attached and stay together in the face of a terrifying Aunt, confused identities and the lack of a particularly-vibrations-yielding-Christian-name.
This is an absolutely top-level cast fully game for anything - whether it be Joel Horwood as the slightly-more-self-important-dandy John Worthing, a particularly impish Steph Roberts as Algernon, a gloriously hairy-legged Shae Kelly as an eccentrically sharp-witted Gwendolyn, a bubbly-and-goofy Holly Ross as more-cunning-than-she-appears Cecily, an ever-distractible Victoria Dixon as Miss Prism, a soft-spoken-but-loud-feeling Janie Lawson as Canon Chasuble, a force-of-nature-and-her-own-self-satisfaction Lainie Hart as the utter pinnacle of Lady Bracknells and an impishly scene-stealing Blue Hyslop as Merrilane (a merger of two separate-but-kinda-similar Butler characters in Wilde's original).
With such a minimal set, a lot of the effect is produced by sharp lighting by Nathan Sciberras and, in particular, some gorgeously fashionable outfits from Fiona Leach (Lady Bracknell's coat, in particular, gives me coat-envy of the kind I haven't felt since the Good-Coat version of Pride and Prejudice in the 2000s), which manage to combine modernity, a nod to victorian values, and some indication of the non-binary nature of this production.
Hilarious, ridiculous, and performed at full pitch and skill, this is a delight for any audience, whether familiar with Wilde or not. Recommended for anybody with even the slightest sense of humour or style. And for everyone else too.
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