Any English Literature student at the University of York would surely gasp with horror to hear that I willingly chose to see Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s 1777 comedy The School for Scandal, what with its infamy as one of the most hated compulsory first year texts. What can I say? Maybe, like the play’s cunning Lady Sneerwell, I just love controversy. Or maybe I feel a little of what the original audience felt: that this comedy has so much heart and wit that it merits laughing so loudly a passer-by believes the Drury Lane Theatre is colapsing. In other words, I entered York Theatre Royal hopeful and left, unfortunately, a theatre more stable and sturdy than ever.
The School for Scandal is essentially one long round of the childhood game ‘Telephone’ - Sir Peter Teazle ( Joseph Marcell) tries to con- nect with his young new wife Lady Teazle (Lydea Perkins) as the two become increasingly ensnared in a high society with a gossip obsession. Meanwhile, Teazle’s old friend Sir Oliver (Tony Timberlake) uses various ridiculous disguises in an attempt to wade through the scandal and superficiality of his two nephews Charles (Garmon Rhys) and Joseph (Alex Phelps) in order to decide whose true good character will warrant his inheritance. Couples and friendships are tested and strengthened (often in the time it takes to spread a rumour) in a tale of converging sub plots, constant multi-roling and general merriment.
The cast was undoubtedly the strongest part of this production, with Perkins’ Lady Teazle a particular standout. Previously I have struggled to connect with the central conflict between the Teazles as I simply couldn’t bring myself to root for them, but when Lady Teazle is played with an effortless charm and brass the couple act as a firm anchor for the play’s dramatics.
Another audience favourite was Sir Oliver / Crabtree played by Tony Timberlake, who lit up both of his vastly different roles with ease. The lightning speed script seemed to elasticise when read by him, whereas from others it sometimes felt like a competition to emphasise as many words in a sentence as quickly as possible. Ultimately, however, I blame this more on Seán Aydon’s uninspired direction – I doubt Sheridan’s text would have maintained its popularity for almost 250 years if it had to be rushed to be enjoyed.
And this is where the problems begin. My overwhelming feeling with this show was a question of why? Firstly, why this play, now? The programme – which, notably, is creative and innovative, evoking the spirit of Bridgerton’s gossip-master Lady Whistledown – describe the motivations behind the revival as recognising that “people were in need of a laugh”, but this intention falls flat when the laughter is muted.
Simply put, this production is directionless. For one, while Tilted Wig Productions say they are bringing the comedy into the 21st century they actually leave it lost and unmoored in the 1950s, which gives the oxymoronic feeling of trying to take a safe risk.
I should note that both the set and costume design, overseen by Sarah Beaton, were vibrant and handsome. The jewel-toned costumes have a charming attention to detail, and the minimal set design of a salmon curtain, chequered tile floor and 50s style pastel telephones provides a nice backdrop – nice, but ultimately impractical. What is minimal here starts to feel barren; in a play that is seldom active, the creative team rarely strives to alleviate the audience’s restlessness. The most successful scenes were the ones in which the audience were given a bone – even merely the inclusion of a wine bottle and glasses raised spirits as at least, finally, there was something to engage with. Even a couple of chairs would have broken up the endless monotony of walk here, speak, walk there, speak, walk here…
And finally, while I merit the attempt to connect with a modern audience, I can’t help but think the original setting worked for a reason. High wigs, corsets, pantaloons – not only would these have solved the issue of a lack of visual interest, but they also would have helped to really cement the picture of the ridiculousness of antiquated high society that this production was missing.
Ultimately, despite its best efforts, Tilted Wig Productions’ The School for Scandal isn’t anything to write home (or to any gossip magazines) about. Gosh, I hope I don’t cause a scandal!
