Oscar Wilde once claimed that ‘to become a work of art is the object of living’. No doubt he would have poured rapturous praise upon the new production of The Importance of Being Oscar at Jermyn Street Theatre, for it realises this aphorism with panache. The original show was conceived in 1960 by the great actor Micheál Mac Liammóir, who was something of a Wildean figure himself, resplendently eccentric, polymathic, and well-practiced in turning life into myth (his Gaelic name and Irish heritage were pure fiction). His play about Wilde’s life unravels in the form of a literary vaudeville. It takes key biographical events and threads through them glittering recitations of his writings, including poetry, plays, letters and passages from the novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. The final effect is a dazzling display as biography and art are seamlessly interwoven and freshly illuminated.
If Wilde lived piously by the dictum of decadence in all circumstances, actor Alastair Whatley, the narrator for the evening, is inclined to a more measured style of performance. He recounts the events of Wilde’s life with easy charm and holds us rapt, from the early days of the writer’s fame and family life to the desolation of his tenure in prison for gross indecency and his down-and-out existence in Paris. Whatley moves around the stage like a charismatic host at a Tite Street dinner party, regaling his audiences with delectable anecdotes and piquant bon mots. If he occasionally falters in the earlier scenes—not bringing to them enough breeziness—it is because one sees in his eyes the pale shadows of Reading Gaol and future miseries. Yet, this in no way detracts from the immense pleasure that Whatley brings to his performance. Words fall from his mouth like finely cut diamonds; every syllable is transparent and catches the light.
And of course, for Wilde and for Mac Liammóir, language is a matter of no small importance. Antithesis, paradox, irony and puns are the sweetmeats on offer. The show deftly balances passages from classic favourites, such as Lady Bracknell’s quizzing of Jack in The Importance of Being Earnest, with early poems which are given new life. Particularly stirring was the nightmared vision of ‘The Harlot’s House’, and the love lyric ‘Roses and Rue’, a poem dedicated to actress Lillie Langtry in which Wilde poignantly confesses that his heart will ‘break in music, I know / Poet’s hearts break so’. Given that dramatic dialogue is something of a mire at present, hearing these words was a delightful experience.
Designer Madeleine Girling keeps this verbal beauty and opulence at the forefront of the production by opting for simple staging. The stage space is bare except for a rococo gilt lamp in the first half and a prison cell stool in the second, reflecting Wilde’s tragic decline. At the back is a vast oval-shaped ring of LED light, redolent of a picture frame, a mirror, or even the kind of circular lights kept by selfie-takers. As the narcissistic Dorian Gray, Whatley looks into it admiringly; at other moments, he steps inside it to recite poems with gravitas. Notable also is his performing attire. Girling fashions Whatley in a lavish, burnt orange three-piece suit, tailored to perfection and fit for any impromptu invitation to feast with panthers.
This revival of The Importance of Being Oscar is an evening of unmissable magic. Director Michael Fentiman resurrects the ghosts of Wilde and Mac Liammóir and in doing so, Piccadilly is once more held in a spell. Having recently witnessed a Wilde revival of sorts in London theatreland – The Importance of Being Oscar succeeds The Invention of Love staged just a few months ago at Hampstead, in which Wilde appears – I can only hope that some canny producer picks up on the pungent smell of violets and lilies and offers a production of David Hare’s The Judas Kiss. For you can never be overdressed, overeducated or, I might add, overindulged in the sheer brilliance of Oscar Wilde.
The Importance of Being Oscar
By Micheál Mac Liammóir
Director: Michael Fentiman
Photo credits: Marc Brenner
Cast: Alastair Whatley
Until: Saturday 19th April 2025
Running Time: 2 hours including an interval
Review by Olivia Hurton