Review of ‘Hay Fever’ (Wyndham’s Theatre, 2026): “Drowsy performances are something to sneeze at”

“Don’t be so theatrical”, cries Christine Baranski’s son (only in fiction) as her character engages in one of her overdramatic tantrums. A confused audience chuckles. The thing is that she isn’t as flamboyant as her family tries to paint her. In fact, you may say that she isn’t flamboyant at all. Those who know her, and even idolise her, are likely to be disappointed, as they will notice that Baranski seems to have left part of her essence across the pond. Or maybe it’s just that this production of Hay Fever has made her allergic to camp — and, to some extent, comedy as well.

This isn’t Noël Coward at his best, but his genius still pervades. It’s packed with razor-sharp wit. And overall, it’s a more than decent farce. It’s true that the conflict takes too long to unfold. On the other hand, the conclusion is rushed and anticlimactic. But give it to a competent director, and the result will be underscored by roaring laughter. Not here, though.

Coward’s signature acidity is strong enough to permeate the performance, but the cast endeavours to dull its zing. The result isn’t tasteless, but it lacks spice — a lot of it. While most one-liners land, the physical comedy and tongue-in-cheek jokes are poorly timed. You may laugh, but it won’t be an instinctive reaction. Instead, you will understand, on a rational level, that they are struggling to make those moments funny, and you just feel obliged to comply.

If their timing wasn’t sufficiently clumsy, their scarce rapport is the undoubted coup de grâce. For the most part, their portrayals are completely detached from each other. There’s no real chemistry, no sense of back-and-forth, no nuance, and no subtext. Although some members demonstrate adequate technique, none of them shows a natural connection with each other. It’s not necessarily wooden (all the time), but everything comes off as too mechanical. Not surprisingly, that’s rarely the answer if you want to tickle the audience’s fancy; whether that pushes their buttons is another story.

Both leads deliver flat, unelaborate performances. Richard E. Grant plays a bombastically loud David, but no amount of noise can cover the emptiness of his rendition. Conversely, Baranski is too tame to play a convincing Judith. She doesn’t convey the character’s grandiloquence organically. It’s fair that Judith’s histrionics should hint at a touch of pretence, but that only works when her actual personality is already pompously garish. Sadly, that’s exactly what she can’t grasp, perhaps because she’s too busy trying to put on an old RP accent.

Some supporting roles are done more justice. Charles Edwards portrays an amusingly deadpan Richard Greatham, Nancy Caroll dazzles as the elegantly ironic Myra Arundel, and Jackie Coryton is endearing (and occasionally droll) as the clueless, good-hearted Jackie Coryton. The opposite happens, too. And Jo McIness is the main culprit with her overly stiff, lifeless take on the catty maid, giving the impression that it’s her, the actress, and not her character who’s fed up with what’s going on.

The staging deserves the utmost praise. Admittedly, it’s the sole redeeming feature of this production — opulent, classy, and seamlessly integrated with the venue’s architecture. The fact that Baranki’s face has been embroidered (not so discreetly) into the safety curtain is another nice touch. But that’s as much as we can laud about this new revival of Hay Fever, which is unlikely to raise the temperature in the West End’s latest autumn season; far from being the hottest show in town, it’s bound to leave audiences rather cold.

All pictures credit to Marc Brenner.

Hay Fever plays at London’s Wyndham’s Theatre until 12 December. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara