Hell is other people – especially if you’re married to them. Noël Coward’s characters often struggle to fit their romantic and creative ambitions into conventional shapes. This rarely seen, jaundiced marital comedy suggests that the interest started early – Coward was just 18 when he completed it at the end of the first world war, though it was first staged in 1926.
A century on, playwright Bill Rosenfield and the enterprising Troupe theatre company “reimagine” the play – streamlining the plot and florid dialogue. Two young writers, novelist Sheila and budding playwright Keld, embark on marriage, pursuing domestic bliss and artistic success. Something has to give – and, although she’s the brains of the pair, it is Sheila who relinquishes ambition to allow Keld to flourish.
Rosenfield relates the play to Ibsen (you might think of A Doll’s House), while other observers mention Strindberg’s acrid marriage plays. These sombre lodestars suggest that The Rat Trap isn’t exactly a comedy – Coward hadn’t yet developed his chrome-plated twists of phrase or predatory banter.
Lily Nichol’s Sheila begins in eye-rolling splendour. Her boho prints and flappy trousers (spiffy costumes by Libby Watson) create art deco curves between hip and shoulder. As trouble hits paradise, she shrinks, stills, stops taking up space – subdued in politely pressed pleats. It’s dismaying to watch her light dim, and Kirsty Patrick Ward’s production, which can’t lift the play’s bickering comedy, is tender with its misery.
Ewan Miller doesn’t disguise Keld’s self-regard. He may be ruffle-haired and boyish, but he also bridles and bullies and is foul to the shrewd housekeeper (an excellent Angela Sims). He’s a second-rate talent, insufferable even in abjection.
Characters around the central pair question what marriage means: Gina Bramhill’s shrewd singleton or Zoe Goriely’s minx, arriving in a cloud of scent and spite. There’s no template for love among the artists, and an unexpected ending hardly lifts the spirits.
Troupe make a staunch case for Coward’s youthful effort. “I think it will only be interesting as a play to ardent students of my work,” he said – but though he would later write more piercingly about intractable desires, he sharpened his claws in The Rat Trap.
At Park theatre, London, until 14 March
