Noël Coward’s Fallen Angels, first performed exactly a century ago, may no longer scandalise audiences with its hints of pre-marital passion, but in Christopher Luscombe’s elegant revival at the Menier Chocolate Factory it remains irresistibly entertaining. Its success rests on a buoyant ensemble, impeccable period design, and Coward’s instinctive feel for the comic contradictions of polite society.
The story is simple but works beautifully as a farce, firmly rooted in its 1920s period charm. Julia Sterroll and Jane Banbury—two happily if complacently married women—are thrown into turmoil after receiving a letter from Maurice Duclos, a former lover they both shared before marriage. His imminent arrival sends their orderly domesticity into a fizz of rivalry and anticipation. With their husbands conveniently away playing golf, the women settle in with copious champagne to debate whether they can—or even want to—resist Maurice’s enduring charm. Their scheming is repeatedly punctured by their maid, Saunders, whose worldly knowledge and dry wit supply the evening’s sharpest comic edge.
Simon Higlett’s Art Deco drawing room and Fotini Dimou’s glamorous costumes anchor the action securely in its 1920s milieu. The design evokes the period with such ease that the moral premise—quaint to modern ears—feels charming rather than antiquated.
The cast is uniformly delightful. Janie Dee (Julia) and Alexandra Gilbreath (Jane) make a superb central duo. Their contrasting physicality—Dee slender and poised, Gilbreath fuller-figured and dark-haired—creates an immediate visual counterpoint, yet their emotional responses mirror one another with uncanny synchrony. Their dynamic, veering between intimacy and rivalry, is one of the revival’s great pleasures.
The evening’s standout performance comes from Sarah Twomey as Saunders, the maid who quietly outshines her mistresses at every turn. Rather than a stock servant role, Saunders becomes a comic highlight: she plays the piano better than Julia, speaks French more fluently than Jane, and knows more about golf than either husband. Twomey’s impeccable timing and unflappable poise give the character a modern resonance—she becomes the still centre around which Coward’s social absurdities spin.
The second act’s extended drunken quarrel between the two women is played with tremendous energy, though it occasionally tips into broad farce at the expense of Coward’s verbal finesse. Still, Dee and Gilbreath execute the scene with such precision that the momentum never flags.
Coward’s comedy here is rooted not in moral philosophy but in emotional absurdity. The humour arises from champagne-fuelled jealousy, rising hysteria, and the fragile balancing act of a friendship under strain. Luscombe’s production embraces this warmly, allowing the escalating chaos to feel both farcical and recognisably human.
Coward’s title, Fallen Angels, playfully subverts a once-loaded phrase. These are not “fallen” women in any moralistic sense but spirited, imperfect individuals whose youthful passions refuse to remain tidily buried. The satire is affectionate, never cruel, gently mocking the demands of respectability and the hypocrisies that uphold it.
This Menier Chocolate Factory revival embraces the play’s period charm while allowing its social satire to resonate with contemporary audiences. Though the second act sometimes strains the play’s comic elegance, the production remains engaging, stylish, and handsomely performed. Above all, Sarah Twomey’s outstanding turn as Saunders, combined with the production’s impeccable visual design, breathes new life into Coward’s century-old comedy and reminds us that the tug-of-war between respectability and desire—a battle Coward renders with such affection—remains a recognisably human predicament.
Menier Chocolate Factory
Playwright: Noël Coward
Director: Christopher Luscombe
Cast: Janie Dee, Alexandra Gilbreath, Christopher Hollis, Richard Teverson, Sarah Twomey, Graham Vick
Duration: 2 hours (including interval)
Runs until: 21 February 2026
Photo credit: Manuel Harlan