Welcome to the Garrick Theatre and the revival of J.B. Priestley's WHEN WE ARE MARRIED.

Well... it's still cosy but having seen a few more Priestley plays since then I can see that underneath the gentility it still deals with his favorite subject of the passage of time.

Once the secret is out, the couples see each other with new eyes - hen-pecked and browbeaten spouses assert themselves for the first time as the 'lower orders' also let 'their betters' know exactly what they think of them.

Priestley's comedy runs like clockwork and hey if it ain't broke.... However there is little chance that it will ever be fashionable, unlike Stephen Daldrey's re-interpreting of AN INSPECTOR CALLS, as Priestley only toys with the sudden liberating possibilities for the main characters - hidden grudges are aired while the husband from one couple and the wife from another verge on the possibility of starting their old romance again - before suddenly providing an abrupt ending that restores the status quo. It is as if the idea of their starting again scares Priestley as much as his characters.

Simon Rouse and David Horovitch splutter for all their worth as the two husbands with the most to lose socially while Sam Kelly is a delight as the henpecked worm that turns - his lip-smacking delight while savouring a forbidden drink is comedy gold. Maureen Lipman is in splendid form as the domineering wife who is brought to heel but Susie Blake seemed oddly anonymous as the social-climbing wife of the alderman. The surprise of the evening was Michele Dotrice who, while resembling a guinea-pig in an Edwardian dress, reveals a killer sense of comic timing especially when deflating her husband's presumption that she would want to marry him again.

As I said, Simon Higlett's Edwardian drawing room with no surface knowingly uncovered in lace, damask or ornaments caused near pandemonium when the curtain rose and he is know doubt receiving fan-mail from the home counties by the van-load.
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