Carissa Dixon
John Taylor Phillips and Deborah Staples in Private Lives, 2015.
Noël Coward’s comedy Private Lives opened Saturday night at American Players Theatre under perfect conditions. At the risk of sounding like Goldilocks, it was not too hot, not too cold, but just right for this play which must have caused quite a stir back in 1930 as it deals quite bluntly with a caustic divorced couple and their still smoldering attraction for one another.
Elyot (Jim DeVita) and Amanda (Deborah Staples) were married for three tumultuous years and divorced for five. Now they are freshly remarried. Elyot to the younger Sibyl (Kelsey Brennan) who is obsessed with her husband’s ex and Amanda to Victor (John Taylor Phillips), a solid citizen who shares a similar fixation on his wife’s first marriage. The two British couples end up honeymooning at the same posh seaside hotel in Deauville and, in a contrivance that is lucky for us, their balconies are next to each other. We first encounter Elyot and Sibyl, then Amanda and Victor, and it’s clear they have both been chosen as antidotes to the poison of their first marriage. As their new spouses prepare for dinner, the divorcees discover this ludicrous proximity and separately implore their respective mates to immediately depart to Paris, to no avail. Instead, the original Mr. and Mrs. Elyot Chase sneak away together to the City of Lights.
Carissa Dixon
Jim DeVita and Deborah Staples in Private Lives, 2015.
DeVita as Elyot is undeniably funny, as is Staples. If only my own marital squabbles were as clever and glamorous. Both leads deftly employ physical flourishes that shape their characters in large and small ways (for DeVita, a grand flick of the wrist to reveal his watch when the couple decides to use a safe word and time out strategy to defuse the inevitable fights). Staples uses her entire body - her manic Charleston designed to irritate Elyot made me laugh. Her knowing cock of the head when discussing Sibyl with Victor revealed her core – cutting and charming at the same time. Elyot and Amanda are of course outrageously selfish, but their self-awareness helps make them more palatable as the protagonists.
Brennan and Phillips acquit themselves well and both have nice moments, especially the first time Brennan utters her rival’s name or when Phillips breaks his veneer of manliness to confess his undying love for his bride.
Alejo Vietti’s costumes hit the right notes, especially Amanda’s slinky bias cut gowns and Sibyl’s smart suits and dresses. Andrew Boyce’s scenic design is also pitch perfect; his tidy row of topiary as a borderline between the honeymoon suites and the busy William Morris wallpaper in Amanda’s flat in Paris add to the scenes playing out in front of and around them.
Director James Bohnen has a deft touch and when things descend into spousal violence, it is less squirm-inducing then you’d think because things are pitched broadly and slapstick-y enough to keep the audience from pondering real life domestic violence.
Coward’s writing is dazzlingly witty, but things can get a little tedious with the constant canoodling and quarreling. Performed by a lesser cast and staged by a lesser theater company it might become tiresome, but as done by APT it’s like the perfect summer beach book, frothy and fun.
