Writer: Noël Coward
Reimagined by: Bill Rosenfield
Director: Kirsty Patrick Ward
How much should someone be expected to sacrifice for the person they love? This is the central, fiery question that plays at the heart of this evocative revival of Noël Coward’s marriage-centric dark comedy.
The comedy centres upon Keld (Ewan Miller) and Sheila (Lily Nichol), a newly married couple who dream of individual writing success. As the play unfolds, it is the tensions that form between the pair, a little too suddenly perhaps, that make the power dynamic shifts on stage compelling, particularly as Keld’s professional successes come at the expense of Sheila’s professional and personal loss of identity. It is a play which strikes an odd tone. Its opening act is full of clever wit, yet by its conclusion, the piece has become darker and more cynical, a bleak reflection on the potential for marriage to change and even ruin those in it.
One of Coward’s first works, written while in hospital at the end of World War One, The Rat Trap finally made its way to the stage in 1926 and so is celebrating its centenary with a revival that has seen the playwright’s work ‘reimagined’ by Bill Rosenfield. It is a dark comedy that, focused upon the strained marriage of two ambitious writers, aptly luxuriates in its dialogue. While it does drift dangerously into an ironic spiralling, mirroring the entrapment Sheila feels, Rosenfield’s reimagining largely lands in trimming the play’s fat and enabling Sheila’s desperation to come to the fore.
As warring newlyweds, Miller and Nichol are fierce in their portrayal of characters on the edge of creative and marital oblivion. The portrayal of Sheila feels more nuanced, more layered, in this standout role, which Nichol brings to the fore with aplomb. This is contrasted by Miller’s more hysterical, melodramatic Keld, who at times feels as though Kirsty Patrick Ward’s direction is pushing the character a little too much to the extreme. The pair matches each other’s anger with success in a terrific closing showdown to Act Two, in a scene which the rest of the piece never quite lives up to.
Gina Bramhill’s Olive, Sheila’s independent former flatmate and close confidante, is witty and assured, though her shift in attitude towards Sheila, as she seeks to reclaim her identity, is tonally misplaced. Olive is a nice contrast, though, to Alisa Joy and Daniel Abbott’s delightful gormless socialite pair, Naomi and Edmund, a savage swipe at the other end of the marriage spectrum where both partners’ ambitions have faded into nothingness. The trio is supported by Zoe Goriely’s mischievous actress Ruby Raymond and Angela Sims’ wise servant Burrage to paint a vivid picture of 1920s Belgravia.
The Maxwells’ home is lavishly decorated by Libby Watson’s design, with a neat use of drapes providing a cute peek ‘behind the curtain’ at the flaws in one couple’s married life. The set is simple but effective, and allows the tension between the pair to breathe. This is compounded by Watson’s costume design, emphasising Sheila’s change in confidence and identity starkly following the interval.
Despite its age, The Rat Trap still poses questions relevant today, especially regarding the female voice and gender roles within a marriage. Although a little bloated in places, it is a tense two hours with a mostly satisfying payoff, though one still too defined by 1920s social etiquette. The Rat Trap is not a frequently revived production, yet the combination of this strong cast, Ward’s direction and Rosenfield’s fresh eyes breathes some new life into this stifling marriage.
Runs until 14 March 2026
