the gayest of Coward’s three masterpieces, which is probably why it never gets a decent production. There is one gay character in it (Roland Maule) and then there is the problem of Garry Essendine, the lead, an ageing actor — written for Coward (and which he played in ‘the 40s’, when he was in ‘his 40s’). Also there is the fact that the entire sensibility of the play is gay; which, in this case, means it’s quite honest about love, sex and human relationships in general -- and if played as it should be played, straight people might be unsettled. A couple of years ago there was a production at the Shaw Festival starring an actor (who shall remain nameless, for the following reason) who was known to be gay. He played the role effeminately. This inspired the Globe reviewer J. Kelly Nestruck to write a withering deconstruction of Noel Coward, saying that because Coward was gay he was unqualified to write a play about straight relationships; the problem with Present Laughter being that the heterosexual romantic relationship between Joanna and Garry was not 'well observed,' because the gay Noel Coward knew nothing about such goings-on. That’s what happens when you play Garry Essendine too gay. The alternative is what happens in this BBC production starring Donald Sinden — you play Garry too straight — and it’s not unlike playing Hamlet straight — because straight, to us, means stoic. Hamlet, of course, is a mess, as is Garry Essendine, ranting at one moment and wet with tears the next. So if the actor is resolute throughout -- the result is tedious. Donald Sinden is no Penelope Keith. I don’t know who Sinden is (though I have heard his name) and though he’s handsome enough and the right age he just doesn’t throw himself into Garry’s histrionics -- in fact he actually tends to throw them away. I did see one amazing Garry: Kevin Kline. The secret to playing Garry Essendine is the secret to playing Judith in Hay Fever, the actor must believe their own histrionics; the character is unable to separate fantasy from reality. This, as I hinted in the previous blog, is the essence of what makes us human. A pig knows the difference between a truffle and his nose, whereas humans might fool themselves into thinking a nose is a truffle and vice versa (though God knows why). Shakespeare captured the essence of this in the character of Bottom (he is so named because he is so deep) who during his presentation of Pyramus and Thisbee is afraid the audience might take his death for real. It is a concern, as we are all certifiably nuts. Now the reason Donald Sinden and all the other 'Garries' and 'Hamlets' don’t play up their melodramatics is because being emotional means being effeminate, because it's not just about getting angry (men are allowed to do that) but being vulnerable -- crying -- and being sad, lonely, abandoning oneself to a trivial emotion (ergo, being ‘gay’) — which Garry must do, but Donald Sinden never does. What this production does have-- to make up for this -- is Julian Fellowes as Roland Maule. Roland Maule is a young playwright who idolises Garry, oh let’s not mince words, he is in love with him (Garry at one point muses -- ‘I hope you don’t want to marry me!”). Yes, that’s right, I said Julian Fellowes (of Downton Abbey fame). I had no idea he was such a good actor; after viewing this performance it's hard to believe he's not gay. In 1981 when this was filmed he was only 30. He is magnificent as Roland Maule and receives applause on his first exit (this BBC production was a film of a live play). Roland Maule is too often played as silly, and very unfunny — it was done that way in The Shaw Festival production I saw ( it really was execrable) — which means you just dismiss him from the moment he appears. But Maule and Garry talk about Chekhov several times, and Maule is meant to be a Chekhovian character — tragic and all too human, but irascibly funny. Fellowes looks longingly at Garry and almost cries at one point, and when he says “I thought I’d successfully sublimated you” I could completely identify — the number of young men I tried to ‘sublimate’ — especially back when I was in the closet — are too numerous to mention. These days Maule would be a non-binary, woke victim -- shyly sporting nail polish, proud of his pronouns, but otherwise fading into the woodwork with pitiable inconsequentialness -- despite his blue hair. Pretentious losers like these are now having a heyday. But the reason audiences and critics avoid this play -- and directors direct it badly -- goes much deeper than the problematic sexualities of two of the leading characters. The play is an homage to Coward’s inner circle — that is the actors, designers, and producers that were his friends and amours. Coward had a closely knit group of ‘professional friends’ who he loved very much and who loved him back. Many of them were lesbians (as Monica would be in this play, but instead she is in love with Garry). Coward was at the nexus of a British clique of arty lesbians, in fact Blithe Spirit was inspired by a weekend visit to the lesbian novelist Raclyffe Hall, who resided in Dover — and who was fond of trying to reach her ex-lover (with the help of her present one) in the spirit world. In Present Laughter, Coward successfully recreates his own menage in orbit around a central planet — Garry. They fall in and out of bed with each other, yet nevertheless continue to love each other deeply (in Present Laughter Garry sleeps with an actress, Coward in real life was, for a long time, having an affair with his manager, Jack Wilson). And this is the problem. Coward is married to Liz, Henry is married to Joanna — but they are all having sex with other people, and — though the characters now and then get in a hypocritical snit about it — Coward makes it clear that ultimately no one seems to mind, that though lust and obsession are brief -- and marriage long -- real human affection triumphs over all of these passing fancies. It is uncomfortable for people to see a play which is honest about the facts of life. This is why J. Kelly pretended that Coward didn’t know what he was talking about. Straight people must pretend that monogamy is the answer; I pity them -- always have -- but Coward knew better, that monogamy always loses — and love always wins.
