Theatre review: Privates on Parade

Peter Nichols and Dennis King’s revue-style play Privates on Parade was last in London five years ago in an entertaining, starry West End production that papered over a lot of the problematic cracks. It now gets a much more intimate 40th-anniversary revival at the Union, and while Kirk Jameson’s production has its moments, it also feels much more exposing of the ways Nichols’ social commentary has dated. During the Malayan Emergency that came soon after the Second World War, Private Steve Flowers (Samuel Curry) is transferred from intelligence to SADUSEA, the Song and Dance Unit South East Asia, which tours the area giving morale-boosting performances to the troops. They’re led by Acting Captain Terri Dennis (Simon Green,) who likes to perform as Vera Lynn, Carmen Miranda and, if he’s feeling particularly butch, Noël Coward.

Theatre review: Passion Play

Married for 25 years, Eleanor (Zoë Wanamaker) and James (Owen Teale) are in their fifties, grandparents, with both their love and mutual sexual attraction seemingly undimmed by time. When their friend dies, he leaves behind the much younger woman he left his wife for. The couple remain on friendly terms with Kate (Annabel Scholey) but her request for James' help in researching a book has an ulterior motive: Kate makes a habit of going after older married men, and he's her new target. Peter Nichols' Passion Play arrives in the West End in a revival from David Leveaux, and appears at first to be a pretty straightforwardly told story of infidelity, as James' initial dislike of Kate starts to give way to her vampish charms, until eventually he finds himself in love and obsessed. But about 20 minutes into the play it takes an unexpected stylistic turn.

Theatre review: Privates on Parade

Regular readers of this blog (both of them) will probably know not to expect too much in the way of sensible reviewing from my musings on Privates on Parade at the Noël Coward. Any poor unfortunates who've googled their way here in the hope of figuring out whether the show's worth seeing, I hope you enjoy disappointment, because here you go: The reason, of course, is that Privates on Parade is among other things notorious for how literally its title should be taken with regard to male nudity. And once it was announced that Big Favourite Round These Parts Sam Swainsbury would be in the cast, along with the not unwelcome additions of Joseph Timms and Harry Hepple, I basically spent the couple of months leading up to the show like a toddler who'd overdosed on Sunny Delight. Look, I'm just very, very sexually frustrated, OK? So the fact that, although the nudity remains, it's rather more coy than expected about flashing actual front bottoms, was a bit of a disappointment (people who saw previews tell me things were a bit more clearly on display then; maybe the West End audience clutched their pearls a bit too hard and it was toned down?)