IT is some comfort to many that a playwright of genius can turn out an ill constructed melodrama of glib romanticism. Such is this dramatic contrivance by Oscar Wilde which, glistening with epigrams for the most part without context, probably constructed to turn Victorian morals shockingly arse over tip, has subsequently become so politically correct in its resolution as to be described as having contemporary relevance to today's society.
The issue with which it deals has been relevant to all societies, but it remains a poor play and Ben Barnes's new production of it, faithful to both the text and the theatrical constructs of its period, does little to invest it with dramatic life. It concentrates on the melodrama of Mrs Arbuthnot, her illegitimate son and his father, but its major dramatic denouement - "Stop Gerald. He is your father!" - has all the dramatic subtlety of "Dead! Dead! and never called me mother!" and, along with some other similarly awkwardly placed lines, drew the laughter it deserved last night and undermined the director's serious intention to take the piece at the face value of its sentiment.
Catherine Byrne as the woman in question made her commitment seriously and as effectively as the construct would allow. Andrew Scott had no choice but to be as cloyingly naive as the plot demanded, and did surprisingly well. Ian McElhinney, as the socio sexual villain of the piece, remained so languidly within the slow pace of the evening as to become soporific. Claudia Carroll and Donna Dent, respectively simpering and sprightly members of Lady Hunstanton's courtly soiree, had their comic and conniving moments, as did Barry MeGovern and Barbara Brennan as the hen peeked and cock pecker.
Joe Vanek's setting, murkily lit by Tina McHugh, was as impersonal and as un placed as the play, but Joan O'Clery's costumes did their level best to give the evening a sense of period and identity.
