Before there was AI, or White Lotus, or Seinfeld, there was Noel Coward—jazz era songwriter, playwright, man about town—the master of adult comedy. Oh, not adult comedy as in sex, drugs, and filthy language, but sophisticated, almost restlessly highbrow adult comedy. Think Albert Camus channeled by Cary Grant.
Loaded with flamboyant laughs, Noel Coward’s 1930 cocktail of sophisticated wit and exaggerated luxury still packs a lively punch. Especially in the hands of Santa Cruz Shakespeare director Laura Gordon, who sparked her actors into vivacious and ultimately revelatory performances. Opening night’s audience played voyeurs into the private lives of a world-weary divorced couple, newly married to two naive others. Noticeably dated in its over-the-top disdain for the “little people,” loaded with the once-ubiquitous foreplay of cigarettes and cocktails, this theatrical romp is wisely set in its historical period.
Private Lives opens with each of the new couples, Amanda (Paige Lindsey White) with recent bridegroom Victor (Chris Cherin), and Elyot (Charles Pasternak) with his new bride Sibyl (Charlotte Boyce Munson), stepping out onto the balconies of their French Riviera honeymoon hotel.
Handsome and jaded, Elyot has seen it all before, but his much younger wife is the picture of gushing enthusiasm. After begging him to kiss her again and again, Sibyl begins to probe Elyot about his former wife, Amanda. “One can’t stay happy,” he warns the starry-eyed bride. You can see where this will go! They exit to get ready for dinner and immediately the other door opens and Amanda, with her fussy tradgroom Victor, steps out onto the balcony.
Coward cleverly has their conversation mirror that of the first couple, the new husband asking Amanda abouther former husband. She is weary and flippant about it all, describing her previous marriage to Elyot as like “two violent acids bubbling about in a nasty little matrimonial bottle.” Of course they have a spat and he stalks off to the bar.
The inevitable occurs. The two former partners discover each other out on the terrace laden with cocktails, and after much smoldering eye contact, their once tempestuous love bursts back into flame. “I’ve never loved anyone else for an instant,” Elyot proclaims, and the freshly smitten former spouses make plans to ditch the new ones and run off to Paris. The honeymoon is over.
The second section of the play opens in the Art Deco opulence of Amanda’s Parisian pied-à-terre, where the reunited former spouses kiss, make love, dance, sing, smoke, bicker, and sling insults back and forth. Thanks to the unerring eye of Scenic Designer Thomas Bigley, the second half also reveals a stage elegantly appointed with all the chichi of Art Deco extravagance.
The actors have obvious fun frolicking and fighting amidst luxurious velour couches in shades of coral, teal, and ochre. Gordon embroils her actors in physical comedy as much as in Coward’s mordant dialogue. The heart of this play is an exposé of the inevitable underbelly of love, especially of an impetuous overwrought love.
After wallowing in “this ludicrous overbearing love of ours,” Amanda and Elyot begin to tire even of their own happiness. Name-calling leads to a few shockingly well-placed slaps.
The lines are tossed off with such glamor, such a light breezy touch that we almost don’t realize how much emotional freight they carry. The desire to be simply cozy together, to sit at the piano and sing, to lie on the couch and listen to a favorite song. To simply be, gasp, normal! It is the whiplash dynamics between madcap indulgence and psychological neediness that drive the scenario.
White’s Amanda shows flashes of an unexpected vulnerability. A smart balancing of vitriol and wistfulness that deepens her characterization. In the third act, the cast-off Victor and Sibyl suddenly show up at the Paris love nest, insisting on discussing divorce terms. Tables start to turn, the end mirroring the beginning, as a different pair of lovers erupt in acid-tongued bickering.
The four principals are experts in stage movement and emotive dynamics. The sublime Charlotte Boyce Munson’s Sibyl is a crisp creation, all tradwife jealousy and peevishness. Equally wonderful is Chris Cherin, fumbling with spectacles and his well-tailored double-breasted suit, convincing us that he is completely out of his league with Amanda.
Stunningly clothed, and loaded with glamor, Paige Lindsey White offers both the subtle introspection as well as the luxurious façade of her central character. Dancing, kissing, smoking, and wrestling with Charles Pasternak, she is stunning. A bit more acid in her delivery might have reinforced her character’s emotional contradictions, but why quibble with brilliance?
Matching every other character’s insults, taunts, and demands with complete mastery, Charles Pasternak’s Elyot is William Powell, Buster Keaton, with a touch of Jude Law thrown in. Pasternak preens with hilarious self-absorption, sniping, smarming, and smoking his way through Elyot’s glib mood swings. His timing is superb. “Let’s be superficial and enjoy it all,” he urges the others, while stuffing his mouth with brioche pastry. A small gem of comic poetry.
Perhaps the true star of this production is visual. The smashing Art Deco set by Thomas Bigley. The costumes designed by Austin Blake Conlee, the elegance of backless gowns, tailored suits with matching hats and shoes, tuxedos, and smoking jackets. I’ve never seen such gorgeousness on this stage.
Energized by Noel Coward music and song from Luke Shepherd, and soaked in urbane wordplay, Private Lives is an amuse-bouche from a master of sophisticated mischief. Ironic, highbrow British accents from four of our best-known repertory actors—delicious. Such stylish entertainment demands your immediate attention. Must see!
Private Lives, by Noel Coward, directed by Laura Gordon. Playing through October 4 at the DeLaveaga Grove. santacruzshakespeare.org
