If you’ve ever fallen in love too quickly or divorced with ire or married the same person twice or threatened to maim your new spouse on your honeymoon (and meant it), you must see Private Lives, the 1930 Noel Coward comedy now showing on the McGuire Proscenium Stage at the Guthrie. As someone who’s done all of these things, I feel uniquely qualified to tell you that the story holds up incredibly well and — until the last act, where events devolve in traditional screwball mode — feels current nearly 80 years later.
More important, the theater is a simply gorgeous place, cloaked in brilliant red with a remarkable set that makes you feel sorry for all those poor New Yorkers who must make due with Broadway while we have this lush, stunning venue plus the brilliance of artistic director Joe Dowling (who did not direct this production, but had the good sense to hire Peter Rothstein) AND it costs only $5 to park. . . .
Private Lives is the story of a divorced couple, Amanda and Elyot, who just happen to meet up five years after parting when they are each on their second honeymoons — in adjoining hotel rooms in France. It sounds like a Frank Capra set-up; and, indeed, Coward had a great deal in common with the beloved American director of romantic films like “It Happened One Night.” Only the British playwright was deliciously nasty about the whole messy deal. “Certain women should be struck regularly, like gongs,” says Elyot in reference to Amanda. And when his new young wife is mewling: “I’d like to cut off your head with a meat ax.” There’s also a beautifully-drawn scene of the two ex-spouses discussing their sexual liaisons, in which Elyot says, “It doesn’t suit women to be promiscuous.” Politically correct this is not, but it does capture a variety of passions. And two things save this play from sinking into misogyny.
The first is, of course, context. Period costumes and a bizarrely frequent use of the word “gay” to mean carefree remind you that this is a different era — one in which a man in high society could demonstrate his love for a woman by spanking her. The other is Amanda herself, a strong, sharp-tongued woman (unlike the bafflingly stupid romantic heroines of today), who spanks right back and responds with, “It doesn’t suit men for women to be promiscuous.”
It is for both of these reasons — context and the character Amanda, who is played by the absolutely marvelous, smoky-voiced Veanne Cox — that I recommend you try Amanda’s Ambrosia. The Guthrie came up with this cocktail specifically for the run of Private Lives: a canny concoction of sparkling wine, Campari, and puréed passion fruit.
Frankly, it looks pretty awful in the glass, all murky and orange-ish and rather thick. But it’s an odd thing about this drink — though I don’t care for the intensely tropical taste of passion fruit (which, by the way, has been proved to help lower blood pressure) and I’m bored by the majority of cheap sparkling wines, together, these ingredients become weirdly interesting. The effervescence of the wine softens the acidic quality of the passion fruit; and it, along with the Campari, stiffens the candylike wine just a bit. As in the case of Amanda, her namesake ambrosia is an acquired taste: aggressive and unique, bold, colorful, and unapologetic. But even if you don’t care for passion fruit or sparkling wine or slinky but outspoken women, it’s well worth a try.
It’s also a great way to get into the spirit of the play, where brandy flows and glasses shatter while two people locked forever in a tumultuous love affair pummel one another before breaking into a kiss.
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