Home is just another stage for Garry Essendine. A fading diva, he courts desire and disaster with equal flair. One nervous breakdown from firing his own reflection, he both craves and resists peace. Sharp. Mischievous. Deliciously self-serving. Noël Coward’s signature humour rings through The New Theatre’s production of Present Laughter, which turns even the most polite conversation into a duel of wit. 

In late 1930s London, on the cusp of an overseas tour, Garry’s world teems with a shifting, eclectic array of visitors- starlets, obsessed fans, a stage mother, and an eager playwright- while his secretary, manager, and estranged wife curb his ego and keep the disorder in check. The repartee pops like champagne corks, and amid the laughter, Coward’s brilliance gleams in the perfect balance of sting and humour, exposing the quirks and follies of human nature.

Coward loved word-sparring, and if he could fit in an extra word, he did. This is a very wordy play where every line often says very little, yet the absurdity and irony say a great deal. It demands exact timing and sophistication. Director Louise Fischer’s classical approach honours this, letting the dialogue drive the comedy, while every subtle quip hits exactly as intended.

Tom Bannerman’s Art Deco design magnifies Essendine’s peacocking persona in emerald green, sapphire blue, and gold, complete with throne, proscenium and billowing curtains. His London apartment is an extension of the theatre itself, each corner primed for an entrance, an exit, or a perfectly timed swoon.

Peter Eyers tackles Essendine’s pontificating with a lovely rhythmic diction and beautifully barbed retorts, capturing the effortless flamboyance that turns conversation into a spectator sport. There is a faint, fascinating hint of desperate weariness of a man terrified of silence and solitude. Behind the glittering showmanship lurks someone who doesn’t know himself without the drama. He is the drama, too addicted to his gilded cage to evolve.

The real engine of the chaos is the ensemble orbiting Essendine, each either feeding or puncturing his insatiable ego, stirring or simmering the disorder. From the not-so-innocent ingénue Daphne- “I lost my latchkey, can I stay the night?” (an earnestly convicted Larissa Turton) to Luke Visentin’s Roland Maule, the wonderfully awkward and eccentric playwright who invades the household with relentless exuberance; everyone wants a piece of Garry.

Molly Haddon, as Essendine’s not-quite-ex-wife, coolly provokes and undercuts the antics with practiced elegance. This woman could run a Hollywood studio before breakfast. Reuben Solomon’s long-suffering business manager keeps the mayhem in check with steady composure, all the while being hoodwinked left, right, and centre stage.

The role of Henry Lyppiatt has been redefined as a leveled headed business woman Hetty Lyppiatt (Michela Noonan) who is married to Joanna Lyppiat (an experienced latch key girl) This relationship is a reminder that theatre has always been ahead of its time.That said, it seemed a little out of place, as the play is firmly set in a time when same-sex marriage was a mere a fantasy. Here it’s treated like any farcical entanglement, letting the story spin without stopping to explain itself.

Lib Campbell reinvents Joanna Lyppiatt, shifting her from subtle schemer to a full-blown masterclass in out-diva-ing a diva. She pulls off the unthinkable – steals the spotlight from Garry. Always in control, always one step ahead, Joanna expertly toys with people for her own amusement, and Campbell’s whip-smart comic timing, perfect pouts, and dagger-eyed intent lands every beat.

Running the show behind the scenes includes Liz Grindley as a hilariously dottery and arthritic maid who also doubles as the imposing Lady Saltburn. Oliver Harcourt-Ham plays the sweet-natured butler with dubious double accents, while Emily Weare as secretary Monica quietly steers the ship with sardonic precision, perfectly attuned to setting up and slamming down Coward’s fabulous one-liners.

If the shenanigans and characters sound a little contrived or caricatured – they are, but remember, Coward was the first to elevate farce. His genius was to take the misunderstandings, the rapid pacing, the social absurdities, and layer them with velvet-lipped dialogue, satirical bite, and an incisive snarl at vanity.

Eighty years on, Present Laughter hasn’t aged a tick; a timeless cocktail of drollery, follies, and theatrical irony. The perfect tipple to see off 2025, The New Theatre serves it almost straight, very fizzy, and utterly irresistible.

Present Laughter plays at the New Theatre until 13 December. For details see :https://newtheatre.org.au/present-laughter/

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