Chin-Chin is a frothy, mature comedy (one could hardly call it romantic) by French playwright François Billetdoux. First performed in 1959 to great acclaim, and translated into 19 languages, this Bill Kenwright revival is acted to perfection by Felicity Kendal and Simon Callow. Touring the UK prior to the West End, I was lucky enough to catch it at the Theatre Royal Windsor.
Considering Kendal and Callow haven’t performed together since starring in Peter Shaffer’s 1979 play Amadeus, there was a rare synergy between the pair. Talking to The Stage, Callow remarked: “You don’t get that rapport with all actors, but Felicity and I are lucky enough to have it. It feels like you’re improvising jazz with someone, there is a pulse.” Kendal, treading in the footsteps of Celia Johnson, is ideally suited to the role of prim doctor’s wife Paméla Pusey-Picq, whose husband is having an affair with Cesareo Grimaldi’s (Callow) wife Marguerite.When the betrayed spouses decide to meet in a Parisian café in order to put a stop to the affair, it prompts the beginning of an unlikely relationship. As with every character he turns his hand to, Callow is utterly riveting as the alcoholic businessman, who leads Kendal hilariously astray in a downward spiral of drink-fuelled despair.
Whilst Paméla continues to worship the doctor and forgive him for any misdemeanours (of which there have been many), Cesareo is of the opinion that the lovers are entitled to their stab at happiness, even at the expense of his own conjugal bliss. Instead, his main concern appears to be where the next drink is coming from – the reason he insists on ordering two drinks at a time during the opening café scene. The sets and 1950s costumes, designed by Michael Taylor, capture the carefree mood of the city, whilst the tramps sleeping rough at the edge of the stage remind us that total wretchedness is never far off.
As with most French works, there is a refreshing honesty to the piece it’s impossible not to identify with and chuckle at. A study of the human condition and weaknesses such as alcoholism, which the characters turn to in order to avoid facing up to a crisis, it’s a vice Paméla has well and truly succumbed to by the second half, and one which only exacerbates her problems. Exchanging tea for the strong stuff – much to the bemusement of the audience who were completely absorbed by the transformation, it is only this calibre of acting that can command this level of believability.
With Paméla declaring herself “a desert flower that needs constant watering”, and Cesareo admitting he’s “like a bathroom sponge”, their lifestyle and comic episodes are reminiscent of Withnail & I, with her son Bobby (Joshua Dickenson) having to be locked in a cupboard when he lashes out against Cesareo’s destructive influence over his mother. It’s hard to imagine director Michael Rudman had much more to do than stand back and enjoy the performance like the rest of us, but that’s the real genius of a great director. When the curtain fell, like alcoholics, we were all desperate for more.
Chin Chin on a UK tour until 7th December 2013, for information on venues and to book tickets, visit the website.
