Review: The Constant Wife – Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

W. Somerset Maugham’s 1926 comedy of manners, The Constant Wife, has always harboured a subversive edge beneath its glittering drawing-room veneer. In this current Royal Shakespeare Company touring production, adapted by Laura Wade and directed by Tamara Harvey, that edge has further sharpened, only to somewhat pull its final punch. Anchored by a fiercely intelligent central performance from Kara Tointon, Wade’s adaptation surgically extracts the feminist underbelly of Maugham’s text, offering a vital, modern reckoning with the transactional nature of marriage and money.

A Charming Prelude to Weaponised Silence

The production’s charm and invention are evident before the house lights even properly dim. In a pleasantly eccentric stroke, Philip Rahm’s Butler, Bentley takes the stage alone, recalling (at least to me) the inquisitive dance of Pixar’s iconic lamp. He eventually takes his seat at the piano, literally playing the show into tuneful being.

This opening flourish perfectly complements the splendour of the production. Set designer Colin Richmond has crafted a wonderfully polished and stylish affair, framing the action within a chic 1920s environment that reeks of quiet wealth. A gauzy rear wall even allows a glimpse of life beyond the living room, hinting at life beyond the walls encasing the drama.

Anchored by a fiercely intelligent central performance from Kara Tointon, Wade’s adaptation surgically extracts the feminist underbelly of Maugham’s text, offering a vital, modern reckoning with the transactional nature of marriage and money.

Within this gorgeous gilded cage, the premise unfolds with all the charm of an Oscar Wilde play, at least at first. Constance Middleton, played with magnificent composure by Tointon, appears to be the quintessential, contented post-war wife. She seems blissfully unaware that her surgeon husband, John—played with a brilliantly punchable sense of entitlement by Tim Delap—is deep into an affair with her closest friend, Marie-Louise, brought to dizzy life by Gloria Onitiri. But Maugham’s masterstroke—which Wade seizes upon and amplifies with superb theatricality—is that Constance knows exactly what is going on. Rather than succumb to the expected drawing-room hysterics or file for a ruinous divorce, she weaponises her silence. Biding her time, she secures work as an interior designer, quietly building a financial fortress to orchestrate a methodical escape from her marriage.

The Subversion of Hysteria

Tointon is a revelation in the central role, delivering a masterclass in restraint that commands the stage. With her composure so tightly bound, all the traditional theatrical melodrama is forced upon the men. Wade’s adaptation emphasises this flipping of the gendered trope, leaving Delap’s haplessly arrogant John to flail in a panic while his wife calmly architects her liberation. Delap captures the smug arrogance and subsequent crumbling of the cheating husband with hilarious, pathetic precision.

However, while Tointon anchors the piece in a beautifully nuanced realism, the supporting performances occasionally pull the tone in disparate directions. Onitiri leans so heavily into physical farce as the deceitful Marie-Louise that her performance sometimes flirts dangerously with caricature. While undeniably funny, her exaggerated despair can occasionally grind.

Pantomime Mechanics in a Sophisticated World

This tiny tonal wobble extends to other elements of the ensemble, despite their individual brilliance. Amy Vicary-Smith, playing Constance’s progressive sister Martha, is tasked with executing a breathless, pantomime-esque summary of the plot at the top of the second act. As a technical feat, it is undeniably impressive and deserving of the applause it garners. Yet, as a directorial choice, it sits awkwardly within the confines of an otherwise sophisticated comedy-drama, breaking the spell of the world Maugham and Wade have built.

**The cast of The Constant Wife – production images by Mihaela Bodlovic**

Conversely, Sara Crowe deserves immense credit as Mrs. Culver. She navigates the part perfectly, delivering the matriarch’s traditionalist wisdom with impeccable comedic timing, whilst never reducing the character to an anachronistic punchline. Harvey’s direction is equally deft when it comes to navigating the play’s timeline. A sudden shift to atmospheric blue lighting and a physical strip of wallpaper dropping away to reveal the scrawled text “One year earlier” seamlessly transports us through the history of Constance’s machinations without clunky exposition.

Scaling the Production and Sonic Moods

Visually and acoustically, the production occasionally underscores the challenges of any touring production. Richmond’s set is clearly designed with medium-sized provincial houses in mind, rather than gargantuan spaces like the Festival Theatre. It is, however, impressive to find a modern cast capable of projecting their voices more than adequately to fill such a vast auditorium. It is an admirable, old-school theatrical effort, even if these vocal gymnastics leave the ensemble prone to a touch of shouting here and there.

However, while Tointon anchors the piece in a beautifully nuanced realism, the supporting performances occasionally pull the tone in disparate directions.

The show also boasts an original and very stylish jazz score composed by Jamie Cullum. Whilst it nicely lubricates some of Wade’s dreamily choreographed transition sequences, Cullum’s compositions sometimes reach for abstracted depths not entirely in sympathy with the crisp, grounded wit of the action it bookends.

A Curiously Defanged Conclusion

Where this otherwise first-rate production flirts with disappointment, however, is in Wade’s handling of the climax. Look away now if you wish to avoid spoilers, but this warrants comment.

Throughout the evening, Constance’s journey toward financial and personal independence is a pleasure to witness. Yet, the reframing of her concluding holiday with her long-time admirer, Bernard—played with charming earnestness by Oliver Rix—as a convoluted plot to rebalance her marriage to John, rather than a radical, unapologetic exercise of her newfound autonomy, somewhat defangs proceedings.

On the other hand, a 21st-century piece of theatre altering a classic text to reduce its cynicism is something quite out of the usual.

Whether you find this deviation charming or infuriating, the RSC has nonetheless delivered an arresting, visually sumptuous, and fiercely clever night of theatre. It is a production that proves Maugham’s wit remains as biting as ever, even if it leaves this critic wishing it had sunk its teeth in just a little deeper.

Featured Image: Kara Tointon in The Constant Wife – image by Mihaela Bodlovic