In many ways London is a young and decadent place. You don’t usually see anyone over the age of 50 in central London. Not on the tube, not in the streets, and not in the gastro pubs. And particularly not on a Friday night near Christmas when the city is rammed with office workers out on the lash.
But if you’re trying to escape the party circuit, have lost your grandparents, or are simply wondering where all the oldies are hiding, then head down to the National Theatre for the latest Noel Coward play. The Lyttelton Theatre is awash with throaty laughter, cough drops, and grey hair.
This should not be construed as a bad thing. Age brings wisdom, so they say, and if you’ve seen Present Laughter you’d have to agree: rather than wandering the streets looking for a post-party kebab or curry, those in the know are tucked up in their cosy seat at the National, with their interval drink and sandwich sensibly pre-ordered.
Two worlds collided as I rushed past the unofficial skateboard park under Royal Festival Hall. A boy on a BMX bike doing tricks outside the National’s front door heard the persistent bell urging the audience to assume their seats, and wondered aloud “does that mean some theatre is on, or something?”.
In early productions of Present Laughter, Noel Coward himself played the lead in this play – a nice twist, since this is thought to be the most autobiographical of his many works.
In the National’s version, Alex Jennings makes a very debonair Garry Essendine: dashing and suave, as he lounges around the set of his own opulent apartment, entertaining various young women, as his faithful personal staff look on. The supporting cast is strong, and the script flawlessly funny in true Noel Coward style.
It’s a comedy that verges on farce. The self-centred Essendine, an actor, is trapped in a tug of war between two young women, his ex-wife, and a besotted aspiring writer. As Essendine prepares to go to Africa on tour they all throw themselves at him, in their own eccentric ways.
Present Laughter originally premiered in early World War Two, and documents the end of a certain privileged – and frivolous – way of life. Perhaps the play’s era explains its popularity with a nostalgic older generation, rather than a younger crowd. But there’s nothing dated about Coward’s script. Beyond the period costume many themes ring true: celebrity culture, growing up and growing old.
The audience certainly lapped it up, laughing uproariously in all the right places, thanks to the skill of the writer and the comic timing of the actors.
So if you want to have a night off the pre-Christmas parties, and learn from the wise choices of the older generation, head down to London’s South Bank.
Present Laughter runs at the National Theatre until 9 January 2008.
