Seventeen years ago in this very theatre, DJ Mike Read staged an excruciating musical about Oscar Wilde, in which the writer’s wife Constance lamented, ‘I know your circle is wide.’ Now we have another Wildean faux pas in what claims to be a world premiere by the Irish playwright.
It turns on the story of another wronged wife with the same name as Oscar’s missus. There are Wildean hallmarks, such as the acerbic dowager clutching a prominent handbag and cranking out witticisms. But many of the best lines are purloined from other works – such as the one about a cynic knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing.
Even allowing for the fact that the play is adapted by Charles Osborne from a French reconstruction of Wilde’s apparently original idea, the coarse overall tone lacks Wilde’s finesse.
Marc Urquhart’s am-dram production doesn’t help. Tessa Battisti’s sets aren’t just wobbly, at times they swing freely. Kirsty Dillon acquits herself with dignity as Constance, as does Bart Edward as her adoring beau. But James Vaughan as the first randy then seething husband is a lurid fusion of farce and melodrama. Meanwhile Tamara Hinchco’s acidic dowager is not especially cutting. If this is Wilde, I doubt he’d have wanted it remembered.