When it premiered in 1982, Michael Frayn’s Noises Off was something of a theatrical sensation. The show offers a look behind the curtain, as we follow the first act of a bedroom farce, Nothing On, at three stages of its run – the final rehearsal, a performance a month in, and one at the end of its tour. Actors who begin full of warmth and camaraderie descend into fizzing balls of tension with acrimony and even violence breaking out. And the audience is along for the ride, as chaos reigns.
Noises Off is the kind of play that comes around more rarely then you like, for the simple reason that it’s a mightily complex piece to stage. From expertly choreographed slapstick to a two-storey revolving set, Frayn’s text doesn’t make it easy for a production. One of the brilliant features is that the middle act sees the whole stage revolve as we see the show from behind-the-scenes. This opens up what Noises Off can show us and it is notable that this production peaks here, becoming essentially a glorious silent movie. Director Lindsay Posner’s slick revival hits all the right notes as the evening builds in disorder and laughter.
Good farce requires a talented, willing ensemble, and the cast of Noises Off perform their deeds without fault, each embodying their parts well. As the more seasoned performers in Nothing On, the likes of Liza Goddard’s Dotty, Simon Coates’ Frederick, Dan Fredenburgh’s Garry and Lucy Robinson’s Belinda each have instances when they shine, from a knocked out performer slinking down the stairs face first to their collective breakdown over sardines (Nothing On boils down to sardines and doors, as we are told repeatedly). Simon Shepherd’s hubristic director is the first indicator that we may be amongst a bunch of monstrous divas. One must always worry when an authority figure stars referring to themselves as God.
My heart practically broke for the two put-upon stage managers, Nikhita Lesler’s Poppy and Daniel Ranford’s Tim, as they valiantly struggled to keep the show going. If there’s not a scene stealer (although Paul Bradley’s unreliable burglar and Lisa Ambalavanar’s rigid textual performer both come close) it’s more because Frayn’s play is the star here.
42 years in and I’m not sure there’s any great insight to Noises Off left. Personalities clashing and theatrics collapsing is often a joy to watch but it feels like Frayn’s text has been surpassed by more modern imitators. Add to this an underlying creakiness and what felt dated in the 80s in the play-within-a-play is now positively archaic. That doesn’t detract from a talented cast being put through the ringer in an amusing fashion. Sometimes this all you need to rid yourself of the midwinter blues.