It’s a vermouth universally acknowledged that liquor and literature go hand in hand. From F. Scott Fitzgerald’s champagne-soaked soirées to Dylan Thomas’s pints-and-poetry, the written word has always flowed a little freer with a drink in hand. In fact, Ernest Hemingway famously quipped, “Write drunk, edit sober.” Plied and Prejudice takes that tradition, shakes it with Regency romance, adds a twist of mischief, and makes it a double (entendre). It’s an intoxicating evening out on the ton.
The action takes place on a traverse stage, (a long, narrow performance space with the audience sitting either side). It’s less a catwalk (though Mr Wickham does his best Zoolander impression, as he struts and smoulders down it) and more of a 100-metre track. The five performers take on 25 characters between them, and Austen was a fan of a group chat. That means that the athletic actors hurtle, slide and throw themselves down the narrow slip in order to transform themselves into the person they were just talking to. It’s an impressive, and hilarious, feat; and one that leaves the audience (and presumably the cast) in stitches. It’s a masterclass in comic agility.
The characters they conjure from a hat, a walking stick and a headless cardboard cutout are ridiculous and riveting in equal measure. Mrs Bennet (Emma Andreatta) is not only portrayed as a meddling mum, but also a weather-controlling witch. While Mr Collins (Andrew Macmillan) slithers and spits his way through the crowd like a venomous snake. It’s revolting but undeniably hysterical - which Lizzie Bennet (Brigitte Freeme) can vouch for, it made her break character several times! This isn’t a dig, it’s thrilling to watch this talented troupe contort their bodies and throw their voices in order to make each other (and us) laugh. And adds to the raw, unfiltered and playful energy of the performance overall.
Another thing that adds to the chaos is the table service taking place throughout, not that the audience consumes too many cocktails and becomes too vocal, but the fact that the waiting staff must walk down the stage, and through the action, in order to reach the parched patrons in the stalls. A server balancing an espresso martini doesn’t tend to walk between Mr. Darcy (Tim Walker) and Lizzie during the proposal scene, but it definitely adds something, and showcases the company's stellar improvisation skills fantastically. The source material may be 212 years old, but every performance is made in the moment.
The plot remains a faithful, if slightly abridged, take on Austen’s classic: Elizabeth Bennet, armed with her sharp tongue and quick mind, finds herself sparring with the aloof and brooding Mr Darcy. Misjudgments and misunderstandings rise as pompous suitors are paraded by Mrs Bennet (who i̶n̶c̶e̶s̶t̶s̶ insists the girls marry a man in finance - blonde hair, blue eyes, 6”5 - even if they are already part of the family).
It’s raucous without being sloppy and clever without being pretentious. In short, Plied and Prejudice is gin-uinely brilliant.