Wodehouse in Wonderland | Get Your Coats On

“There is a dramatic pivot in this piece delivered with such sudden, callous, earth-shatteringly precise cruelty that afterwards, for the first time ever, I find myself waiting by the stagedoor determined to shake the hand of the horribly talented actor who has just sucker punched us all in the gut.”

We enter to find ourselves in the study of one of the most celebrated writers of English since Chaucer’s pilgrims first set out to Canterbury. The seemingly uncomplicated genius of Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (1881 – 1975) conjoured into being such immortals as Jeeves and Wooster, Ukridge, Mr Mulliner, as well as some of the most popular, zeitgeisty smash hits of the interwar years. Gershwin, Porter, Kern and Novello all knew him as an equal. He was big in America at a time when America itself was getting big.

Stage left there’s a home bar. Scotch and soda, martinis and the requisite stemware. In the centre, behind the writing desk, a picture window looks out over the Suffolk County landscape – Suffolk County, Long Island, not the East of England for reasons which will become obvious as the plot thickens. A red leather chesterfield armchair completes the scene. It’s the familiar haunt of someone whose literary oeuvre and immortal reputation became established in his own lifetime in the way that an auld oak tree or a gothic catheral might seem established only after the passage of centuries.

Robert Daws completely captures the chronological vertigo of this seemingly very ordinary Englishman towards the close of an extraordinary life. Daws is one of those faces familiar off the telly from ‘Midsummer Murders’, ‘Roger Roger’, ‘Robin of Sherwood’, and of course Fry and Laurie’s masterpiece ‘Jeeves and Wooster’ series. Daws is delivering one of the finnest bits of character work to be seen this EdFringe – this is the other show that us mega Pip Utton fans MUST SEE this year.

With a glove-like fitting, Daws inhabits the persona, personality, and personal space of Wodehouse, a familiar figure yet also an ultra private individual, a charmingly befuddled auld stick in the mud who came to public notice during the roaring exuberance of the 1920s. Wodehouse scaled the highest heights of celebratory fame and success. He became a legend in his own lifetime only to suffer one of those excrutiating moments of irrefutable British tabloid unfairness to rank alongside Michael Foot’s donkey jacket or Prince Harry’s entire adult life. The folk who love to loathe Wodehouse will never let us forget his ill-advised broadcasts from internment during WWII but this was not the only dark cloud that lour’d upon our Wodehouse. There is a dramatic pivot in this piece delivered with such sudden, callous, earth-shatteringly precise cruelty that afterwards, for the first time ever, I find myself waiting by the stagedoor determined to shake the hand of the horribly talented actor who has just sucker punched us all in the gut.

Here is a masterful performance to rank alongside Christopher Lee’s Saruman and for precisely the same reason. Lee was famously the only member of the LOTR cast to have actually met Tolkein. Similar magic has rubbed off on Robert Daws who has known, worked and collaborated with some of the very greatest Wodehousians – Carmichael, Fry, Laurie, Spall, Horden, Jarvis, and Mangan. Daws received the personal blessing and benediction for this production from Sir Edward Cazalet, the son of Wodehouse’s beloved daughter Leonora. Daws is himself of course the definitive Hildebrand “Tuppy” Glossop resoncibile for some of the most joyously side splitting moments of the 90s TV series. My only criticism of this show is that there isn’t a tie-in album of the seven or so Broadway songs written by Wodehouse which Daws merrily belts out with the calm, luxurious, powerful assurance of a 1932 Lagonda 3-litre Weymann.

Come for the candid yet reverential insight into a true great of English letters. Stay for simply one of the best solo performances you’ll see at this or any Fringe. Get your a trifle too exotic Sir white mess jackets on and go see this!