Nobody writes marital spats better than Noel Coward. A typical Cowardian dust-up begins with the spouses sounding friendly and respectful. Then someone slips a criticism into the cheerful banter. The victim objects, defends him or herself, and finally parries with a cutting word that’s supposed to keep things balanced. But it doesn’t: it just makes the original accuser more enraged, and the conversation quickly becomes a vituperative fencing match, with both sides angrily denouncing each other, and demonstrating that life with the other has always been impossible.
Fortunately, Coward is too canny to let matters rest there, and it’s not long before the lovers are cooing at – or at least speaking civilly to – each other once again. Are they any less in love? Not a bit. Will they tangle again? You can be sure of it. Coward’s couples are comically, disturbingly ambivalent. They care deeply and honestly, but cross them at your own peril.
And then there’s Charles Condomine, the hero, if the word may be used, of Coward’s classic Blithe Spirit, which is currently receiving a likable, intermittently successful production at American Stage. Condomine’s problem is not one but two wives, one of whom has recently returned from the dead.
This article appears in Jan 20-26, 2010.