Few twentieth century figures have left as lasting and beloved legacy as Noël Coward, and more than fifty years since his death he still cuts an immediately recognisable figure. Noël and Gertie, which runs at the Leicester Curve until 11 October, gives today’s theatregoer the closest thing possible to an audience with the man himself, and with his lifelong friend and collaborator Gertrude Lawrence. For Coward fans, it’s a treat – a direct-to-audience telling of the pair’s passionate friendship, interspersed with lovingly rendered favourites from the Coward playbook and extracts from his most famous plays.
In the lead roles, both Gary Tushaw and Rebecca Trehearn deliver accomplished, confident performances, engaging with the audience with warmth and sincerity one moment and effortlessly turning up the camp the next. Tushaw wisely avoids the usual Coward clichés and instead gives us a genuine and heartfelt portrayal, particularly in the moving second act. Trehearn clearly relishes the chance to show off her impeccable comic timing and beautiful soprano voice – most of all when blended with Tushaw’s rich baritone. Trotting exuberantly through songs ranging from the camp silliness of Don’t Put Your Daughter on the Stage, Mrs Worthington to the heartbreaking loneliness of I Travel Alone, it’s clear that both actors feel a deep love and respect for the material they are working with. The nature of the show demands two superbly skilled lead actors, and this production has them.
Supporting the leads, mostly on piano but also on other instruments, vocals and occasional spoken words, are Joey Hickman and Michaela Murphy. Both are clearly multitalented performers who deserve a great deal of credit for the success of the show. Almost never leaving the stage, they keep the ship afloat with understated brilliance. Hickman deserves a special mention for his one extended spoken scene, where the dialogue from Coward’s play Still Life (on which the film Brief Encounter was based) is brilliantly used to explore the anguish and repression Coward experienced with regard to his own sexuality. It’s the show’s only real acknowledgement of this central part of Coward’s life, and it’s handled with devastating pathos by both Hickman and Tushaw.
Indeed, if there’s one criticism, it’s that the second act reveals emotional depths that, for me at least, could have stood more exploration in the show as a whole. The first half is mostly fun and frothy, dealing with the pair’s optimistic youth and rise to success, and while we hear a lot directly from Noël and Gertie, they remain somewhat thinly drawn as characters. In the second half, which inevitably covers professional decline, aging, and regrets, the mood turns somewhat more melancholic and we see more behind the well-known stage personas. The overall experience feels enriched as a result, and gives audience members who are less familiar with Coward more to engage with.
Cory Shipp’s beautifully simple art-deco set design provided a perfect backdrop, immediately transporting us back to the glamour of the era. Thom Southerland’s direction, while mostly deft, occasionally felt a little fussy – Murphy and Hickman’s pianos are moved into countless different configurations during the show, each time requiring the performers to operate the brake with their foot, which sometimes felt over-used and distracting. And while having the actors stand atop the pianos was effective visually, getting them up there gracefully was not always successfully achieved. However, these are minor quibbles in what overall is a joyful evening spent in the company of two icons of theatre’s golden age.
