Notes on a Scandal

Deborah Warner’s latest production tries so hard to be outrageous, one almost wants to fake shock out of pity. When The School for Scandal first opened in 1777, it was lauded for its witty dissection of a shallow society obsessed with rumour and status, what William Hazlitt called ‘the habitual depravity of human nature’. Layer on a proliferation of iPhones, parade a line of Gucci bags on stage, and fuss around with several gratuitous rounds of coke-sniffing before the first scene is over, and Warner has found a quick-cook, no-thought-required recipe for a pop-art take down of our continuing, contemporary depravity.

It’s all earnestly ‘relevant’, labouring the need to justify Sheridan’s pertinence to the 21st Century as if we audience members might not get it on our own. Fortunately, nothing can blunt the sharpness of his dialogue, and underneath the superimposed concept, there are some supremely moving performances struggling to get out.