Review: The Merry Wives of Windsor (Royal Shakespeare Theatre)

Review by Raphael Kohn

⭐️⭐️⭐️

At first glance, the ketchup-squirting-on-the-sausage poster of the RSC’s new production of The Merry Wives of Windsor gives the impression of a chaotic, riotous summer romp. It certainly feels that way as the lights go down, with an eight-piece band tucked into the corners of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre’s circle blasting out their boisterous, brassy notes. But some Shakespeare plays are performed more than others, and sometimes there’s a reason for this.

It's not to say this is a rare play. It’s been adapted no less than ten times for opera, and still receives relatively frequent revivals. Some call it Shakespeare’s most feminist play, where the women get the last laugh. The character of Sir John Falstaff, the ‘fat knight’, returns from Shakespeare’s Henry IV, Parts I and II, newly arrived in Windsor and aiming to make some money by seducing wealthy married women. Outsmarting him, the women trick and trap Falstaff to embarrass him in front of the people of Windsor.

So. Pretty feminist then. Apart from the fact that in Blanche McIntyre’s production, it’s very little about the women and almost all about the man. This is Falstaff’s play, through and through. He’s the centre of the narrative, the source of all the humour, and practically the sole provider of energy for the production throughout. It’s still an ensemble piece – McIntyre and Casting Director Matthew Dewsbury assemble a cast of 18 to cram the stage of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre – but it’s really about Falstaff.

Yet their ‘big name’ star comes in the form of the wonderful Samantha Spiro, playing Mistress Meg Page. And she is brilliant, with her buoyant humour carrying her scenes through, and trickstery, cheeky giggle as she schemes with Suibhan Harrison’s Mistress Alice Ford. Disappointingly, this ace-of-spades performer spends the majority of the play off-stage, especially in the first act where her presence is sorely missed – and without her, the pace risks starting to lag. Luckily, it’s kept afloat by John Hodgkinson, whose utterly reprehensible oaf of a Falstaff is a joy to behold. You simply have to hate him, and love every moment of doing so. Towering over his co-stars, Hodgkinson’s brutish, horrible Falstaff is a delight on stage, a true comedy villain.

But this almost-three-hour production leaves these two behind in a lot of the material, developing its sub-plots. And with this, the pace begins to drag, starting to make this comedy less funny and more flat. John Leader and Tara Tijani, as adorable and entertaining as lovers Fenton and Anne Page respectively as they are, have so little to do between them beside stand at the back of the stage together that their romance is not so much insignificant as it is redundant.

Surprisingly few on laughs, McIntyre’s Merry Wives wants to be a sitcom, with its modern suburban setting and punchy music (provided by composer Tim Sutton), but sometimes it only achieves the ‘sit’, with a lack of ‘com’. Sutton’s aforementioned music is good, though reduced to scene changes and a curtain call. Most confusingly, despite the (excellent) band’s attendance during the opening five minutes, they then depart the auditorium for the entirety of the show, returning only for the finale. Whether they are playing backstage live, or just pre-recorded, I do not know – but it’s a confusing decision that serves no purpose at all.

Merry Wives does have its moments. After the punchy opening (and an introduction to Patrick Walshe McBride’s Slender, a camp delight), we find ourselves sitting through over 60 minutes of vaguely amusing Shakespeare before we reach something properly entertaining. And entertaining it is – the wives’ first trick on Falstaff is staged splendidly, complete with a dash of physical comedy. It is moments like this that show up the flaws we’ve encountered along the way even more.

There’s humour too, in Jason Thorpe’s chaotically French Dr Caius, reinvented as a dentist, with his hilarious mispronunciations of ‘house’ and ‘third’ to bring a touch of smut to the proceedings. Not that I mind smut – the laughs were sorely needed. McIntyre’s version sticks largely to Shakespeare’s script, with few modernised additions to the text (unlike the RSC’s recent Love’s Labour’s Lost), but in her 2024-set production, complete with England football jerseys and iPhones, one can’t help but wonder if taking more (albeit careful) liberties could have helped her out a bit.

And modernised it is – Robert Innes Hopkins’ sets place us in pub gardens, modern kitchens, and dentist clinics. Making excellent use of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre’s technological capabilities (a stage lift gets plenty of use to introduce new sets), Hopkins has a lot of tricks up his sleeve. But it’s a shame that when these aren’t in use, we’re stuck with an AstroTurf floor and flat, plain houses behind. While these do turn around to reveal clever set-pieces, it all feels a touch simple – a far cry from the RSC’s usual standards.

It's just all a little bit too bland, and far too long. It’s still a great introduction to the play for newcomers, and fans of Spiro will no doubt be thrilled to see her live on stage (I certainly was). But those of us who search for more may find ourselves disappointed by a touch of flatness to it all. Perhaps that’s the point – maybe not everything needs deeper meanings and subtext to reflect on. But maybe then, we need a bit more than this.

The Merry Wives of Windsor plays at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 7th September 2024 (in repertory with the upcoming The School for Scandal). Tickets from https://www.rsc.org.uk/the-merry-wives-of-windsor/.

Photos by Manuel Harlan