Rollicking Pimpernel

Scarlet period comedy romping fun

If you want to cheer the hero and hiss the villain, then take the next tumbril to Stratford and catch a performance of Dennis Garnhum's splashy production of The Scarlet Pimpernel, Baroness Orczy's thriller about a foppish British aristocrat who secretly retrieved foppish French aristocrats from the ministrations of Madame Guillotine.
Last year, Mr. Garnhum gave us The Mystery of Edwin Drood at the Shaw Festival. He proved himself then to be a master of involving his audience. This year at Stratford he has topped himself. Before the guillotine's blade has severed its last aristocratic head, the audience is cheering and hissing as if it didn't know the ending.
The story is set in the days of the French Revolution at the end of the 18th century. Robespierre and his followers are in the process of lopping off the heads of anyone who crosses their path, particularly members of the aristocracy, including the King and Marie Antoinette. Sir Percy Blakeney, an icon of the English country house set, is secretly the leader of a group of brave young nobles who concoct daring schemes to save their French confrères and bring them to England. Percy thinks that his French actress wife is secretly a spy for the republicans, which gives Sir Percy an added worry. When it turns out that one of the aristocrats condemned to die is his wife's brother, the plot becomes even more complicated. An operation worthy of Mission: Impossible is required, and accompanied by the cheers of the audience, succeeds.
The production is a visual marvel. We are whisked at breathtaking speed from the centre of Paris to the centre of London. Whether we are on a bowling green, in a royal palace, an English inn, a Parisian portcullis or aboard a ship in the English Channel, the guillotine never leaves our field of vision, adding a sombre note to what is in reality a light-hearted romp.
Cameron Porteous' set design is complemented by Kelly Wolf's fetching costumes and most of the action is accompanied by the excellent music of Gregg Coffin. One is so captivated that there isn't time to bother looking for imperfections among the performers. Not that there are many. The production is well honed by now. Peter Donaldson doesn't really convince us that he's a fop, no matter how many times he slaps his thigh with his glove, but he is a perfectly acceptable hero. Sheila McCarthy is a rather angular French actress cum British wife, a trifle shrill at times but mostly believable, particularly at the end. Peter Hutt is about as villainous as he could be in the role of Chauvelin, doggedly in pursuit of his man with the same fanaticism as that of Javert and his unrelenting search for Jean Valjean in Les Misérables.
Stephen Russell should be singled out of the large cast for his portrayal of Brogard, the corrupt French innkeeper, with a penchant for making rat soup. Scott Wentworth gave us an excellent cameo performance as the menacing Robespierre. Ian Deakin was a positive delight as the bum-pinching Prince of Wales. Keith Dinicol was almost Dickensian as the landlord of the Fisherman's Rest. Karen Skidmore gave her all to great effect as Signorina Bosca, the Italian singer, and Sara Topham was an alluring young love interest, Suzanne de Tournai, fresh out of France in a beggar's cart. But no matter how good the performances are, this Pimpernel is a director's and designer's triumph.


The Scarlet Pimpernel plays at the Avon Theatre in Stratford through the rest of the summer and the fall until November 2. Tickets are available from 1.800.567.1600.

Publication Date: 2002-08-04
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