Review by Simon Jenner, March 21st 2025
Doll Common stares into cellarage firelight, recalling the bearpit here her father ran before it was a theatre. For five women, it’s moot whether the pit ever made the transition: baying crowds, hired bravos smearing excrement on anyone flinging back an earl’s drunken insult, are prodding for bear dances. What they get silences them. The dancer’s Nell Gwynn. April de Angelis’ 1993 Playhouse Creatures directed by Michael Oakley is revived at the Orange Tree till April 12th. It then tours to Yvonne Arnaud Theatre, Guildford from 22 – 26 April and Theatre Royal Bath from 28 April – 3 May.
Ensemble Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Though with Playhouse Creatures the writer of A Laughing Matter and The Divine Mrs S. left a stage-door open for Jessica Swayle’s 2015 Nell Gwyn at the Globe, de Angelis always showed more interest in period theatre houses and collective struggle. In particular pressures facing women whose new-found autonomy and expression twins with their denigration as sexual objects and prostitutes. Additionally, perils of pregnancy and destitution beckon as flipside to a trip up a royal or noble backstairs, with status as a kept woman. And then as now, fight for equal pay. And whoever heard of women shareholders?
A five-hander portraying over two-hours-fifteen the lives of four famous women actors of Restoration is neatly plotted and as one – Nell Gwyn’s – fortunes rise, each of the others is challenged. There’s a homeopathic touch of O’Neill’s The Iceman Cometh, though it’s not universal loss. Anna Chancellor as Mrs Betterton (born Mary Saunderson), wife of the actor-manager, leads a flawless cast.
De Angelis explores tensions: between old guard and new, benefits (shareholding) the younger bring as a fresh idea. And those between male and female actors: men seemingly act forever; but don’t think women should. Retiring from the stage often meant 21, not 81. Gwyn though knows it’s about seizing your moment. “I always get what I want.” Careful…
Katherine Kinglsey. Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Perhaps an older de Angelis wouldn’t have indulged in the fantastic anachronisms on display: Vanbrugh’s The Provoked Wife rehearsed here wasn’t seven when Nell Gwyn retired in 1671. Or born when Elizabeth Farley (Nicole Sawyerr) did. Mrs Betterton too went on to 1694. It hardly matters: these characters make niceties redundant. Riffing over-egged Shakespeare is enormous fun, and there’s an ambush.
Gwyn (a sparkling Zoe Brough) spies a hesitant Farley full of her preacher-man father, gives her sixpence and advice to join the theatre. Brough’s appealingly fresh. determined young woman burns through Gwyn’s traditional patina. Farley then outwits Gwyn, getting in first, but Gwyn tricks her way in and with dancing, falling to improv and delivering asides, we can believe a star is born. Farley is first to the king, Gwyn supplants her without seeking to, and Farley – as in life – is faced with dilemmas leading to an excoriating scene with her peers. All awkwardness then scornful aplomb, Sawyerr’s transition from gawky to classy to Cockney whore is a journey of accent and descent.
Mrs Marshall (Katherine Kingsley), foul-mouthed like Gwyn but more angry, seeks revenge as the actresses turn witchy and enact that scene. But might the Earl of Oxford seek revenge? Kingsley’s Marshall blazes as the new single-minded professional who wants nothing but theatre. She and Gwynn aspire to be shareholders; as Marshall outlines a new identity without a name (a moment that glimpses the future), Mrs Betterton seizes her chance.
Doña Croll’s truculence betrays a hauntedness as dresser Doll Common (from Jonson’s The Alchemist, played during this period by Catherine Corey). Devoted to shooting stars but devoid of illusion, she’s exquisite recalling Mrs Betterton’s greatness.
Nicole Sawyerr. Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Ensemble Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Chancellor is Mrs Betterton: the lead enjoying bartering with her husband – who finally demands the unexpected. Or mentoring young Gwyn with gestural clock-faces. Later, Chancellor’s rapt, recalling being one with her husband: substituting for Iago or Hal when actresses were still publicly forbidden. No-one suspected. Superlative is Chancellor’s speech as a distracted Lady Macbeth. Dropping the 1660s, she delivers it with revolutionary naturalism to Doll Common: who wonders if Betterton’s acting or distracted. Chancellor’s final “I never missed a cue” is heartbreak flicked casually. As actors peel off Gwyn and Common are left in the deserted theatre; but Gwyn can’t resist an epilogue. We get two.
Fotini Dimou’s set delights in natural woods and a few props: the Orange Tree’s galleries work ideally with little décor and falling glitter. With this and Elliot Griggs’ descending faux-candelight chandeliers, it’s a Restoration wink to the Globe and the true scenery is mobile: Male Arcucci’s costume supervision includes a coup with two women attired as men, mutually attracted after a magnificent sword-fight (Alison de Burgh’s fight direction scintillates in this tiny space). It harks back to John Lyly’s gender-fluid Galatea and a moment that might have been explored. There’s elegant fluidity in such bustle with Mandy Demetriou’s movement making this space expand as actors seize a dance or wheel on a speech: it’s a remarkably uncluttered production. Max Pappenheim’s period sound (Purcell) includes crowd noises off, one resembling (unnervingly) the whoosh of a jet.
When Doll Common claims “Life’s like a storm. Don’t get in its way” one thinks of the stoicism of those in the eye of it, and their audience. A consummate revival.
Katherine Kingsley and Zoe Brough. Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Anna Chancellor. Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
Casting Director Annelie Powell CDG, Assistant Director Amelia Shelmerdine, CSM Jerry Gunn, DSM Honor Klein, ASM Claire Hill, Scenic Artist Charlotte Cross, Show Carpenter Paul Grace, Production & Technical Director Phil Bell, Production Technicians Andy Cook, Priya Virdee.
Promotional Photography Hugo Glendenning, Production and Rehearsal Photography Ellie Kurtz
Ensemble Photo Credit: Ellie Kurtz
