Gryphon Theatre
March 21-31 | Reviewed by Kate Blackhurst

CHRISTOPHER HAMPTON’s play, Les Liaisons Dangereuses, is a marvellously witty adaptation of the eighteenth century novel by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos. It is also widely known as Dangerous Liaisons, following a hugely successful 1988 film version. Stagecraft’s presentation of this show manages to put all previous incarnations out of mind. Under the direction of Meredith Dooley, the play crackles and sparks with method and malice.

The Marquise de Merteuil (Rebecca Parker) attempts to corrupt the young Cecile de Volanges (Sophia Savage) and she persuades the notorious Vicomte de Valmont (Robert Hickey) to play her game. De Valmont, meanwhile, is determined to seduce the virtuous Madame de Tourvel (Juliet Earp) while her husband is absent. The Marquise doubts Valmont’s success with de Tourvel, and demands written proof that he has made this woman fall in love with him.

Letters are a prominent feature of the play, along with the great lengths taken to deliver them. The letters represent hard evidence as opposed to rumour and gossip, of which there is plenty in the Parisian drawing rooms. The characters are frequently seen writing in various situations – one in particular is a delightful piece of double entendre. Valmont writes a letter to the upright Madame de Tourvel on the back of the reclining courtesan Emilie; while declaring his undying affection for one, he is clearly indulging in carnal pleasures with another.

Previously lovers and now respected adversaries, The Marquise and Valmont indulge in verbal bouts of admiration and attraction. Rebecca Parker and Robert Hickey are confident actors with clear voices and their scenes work excellently as they deliver the witty barbs. This foreshadows the later duel between Valmont and Le Chevalier Danceny (Andrew Cross) Cecile’s young inexperienced suitor, who has formerly taken Valmont into his confidence. This scene questions whether the pen is indeed mightier than the sword.

Apart from this action sequence, there is very little movement in the play, which focuses our attention on the dialogue. This works perfectly with Parker who reveals her feelings through slight but expressive gestures of her eyes and mouth. She is cruel and wicked but beautiful and deliciously manipulative, like a snide Penelope Keith. Unfortunately some of the other actors in this production are less dynamic and the close, stuffy atmosphere of Gryphon theatre doesn’t help, causing several audible yawns from the audience.

Possibly due to opening night nerves, there were some mumbled and stuttered lines, but when the cast slowed down and enjoyed the script, they enriched it. Sophia Savage as Cecile appears suitably vacuous until her initiation by Valmont, at which point she adopts an equally irritating smirk. Koyla Eccleton is woefully underused as Emilie, the sensual courtesan who burns up the stage whenever she sets foot upon it, a stunning foil to the cynical machinations around her. Robert Hickey clearly enjoys playing the part of the Lothario, which he does with smooth assurance. The chilling control with which he conducts his seductions has little to do with consent and everything to do with power.

In contrast, there is little passion from Juliet Earp as Mme de Tourvel, and she struggles to portray her torment at being in love with another man, although as a pious married woman, this would, as she says, be killing her. There is also a large cast of servants and wig-dressers who add little to the performance, although Valmont’s servant, Azolan (Tim Williams) is a perfect blend of arrogance and deference; his world-weary acceptance is a triumph.

The integral costumes and set highlight the decadence of the aristocracy shortly before the French Revolution. The multi-levelled set works well, with a central platform used for moments of heightened sensitivity, from the seduction to the rejection and the duel scene. In a play full of blackmail, bribery and secrets, swathes of material screen and conceal. Whether acting as surrounds to the four-poster bed or dividing a section of stage into an antechamber, they are moved surreptitiously into place.

Sound is also used judiciously, with ticking clocks to signify tension, birds to suggest the countryside, and orchestral musical pieces to cover scene changes. The French voice-overs at the beginning and end help to establish the era.

The use of the audience as a mirror is a piece of genius. As The Marquise and Valmont stand side by side facing the audience, they declare they will win the battle of wits or die. The Marquise delivers an intensely moving speech about the role of women in society and what their education leads them to expect. Although ostensibly reflecting on her soul, she looks out at the audience, engaging them as she lets slip her mask and draws them into her world. This effective technique allows us to glimpse her true character – which is far from pretty – while forcing us to study our own conscience.

The play is book-ended with a couple of card games, in which the players hold their cards close to their chest, the women adhering to rules and manoeuvres while trying to trump their opponent. The excellent metaphors and subtle direction leave the audience thinking about the performance long after the final hand is played.