The West End’s little boutique theatre on Jermyn Street has been in the forefront of dramatic revivals, and The Voice of the Turtle is no exception.
Written by John Van Druten in 1944, this is a very funny and frank piece about theatre, war, relationships, and trust.
It’s 1943, times are changing, and people fall in love too easily. Philip Wilson’s production gives us the look and feel of rationing and transient fun with a talented trio of actors.
Sally (Imogen Elliott in a striking professional debut) lives in a New York flat she can only just afford, next door to a chic French restaurant.
Her friend and fellow actress Olive (a sparkling Skye Hallam) is expecting a soldier beau to come along, but lives are complicated, and so is romance.
Bill (a focused Nathan Ives Molba) comes across at first as a playboy type seeking fun on leave, but he quotes Milton and Shakespeare and knows Chekhov’s plays.
Later, he comes into the flat with an armful of spring flowers. It’s that kind of play, with a lot of off-stage characters adding colour at the end of a phone line or in the reporting of unseen events.
Van Druten’s script feels very modern in its attitude to sexual promiscuity while retaining an English veneer of politeness and respectability. It is something visible in his play I Am A Camera, which was the basis for the musical Cabaret.
The character of Olive (played in the 1947 film by the wisecracking Eve Arden) is the archetypal good time girl with a heart. She’s a harsh critic of herself and others when it comes to romance.
In contrast, Elliott’s Sally is naive and vulnerable, and this comes across well in her scenes with Molba. With Hallam’s Olive, she grows in strength once she has her measure. They are tigresses in the same zoo, after all.
Ruari Murchison’s set design, with Chris McDonnell’s lighting and Simon Slater’s sound, make the most of the theatre’s space. There are closets, cupboards, tables, a day bed, and a sink with running water.
We have lights, lamps, and windows to add atmosphere. Anett Black’s costumes are glamorous, colourful, utilitarian, or sophisticated as the occasion requires. Even the bedspreads catch the eye with a splash of charm.
The Voice of the Turtle refers to the song of the turtle dove, that harbinger of love, and as we watch Sally let her guard down and open her heart to more than just being a casual fling, the play revels in its sweetness.
A delightful revival.
The Voice of the Turtle continues at Jermyn Street Theatre until 20 Jul with tickets here.
****
Image credit: Steve Gregson