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Director's note – by Susie Wilde
Imagine a world where it’s always winter and never Christmas. No, not Narnia but England under Cromwell: no celebrations, no inns, no theatre. Soldiers roam the streets and scrub off any make-up found on the women. Bright colours are banned. Men and women wear black. Her hair is hidden beneath a white head-dress and wigs are banned for men. Most sports are banned, especially on a Sunday, when even going for a stroll can lead to a heavy fine. And if you don’t like it, those who keep swearing can be sent to prison. Grim.
So now picture the scenes when Charles II is restored to the throne, bringing colour, life and energy back to the people. This exuberance is what we are trying to capture here: the noise, fun, naughtiness and verve of a city that has been held in check too long. Restoration Comedy relishes the uncontrollable urges that make us human and frail; like alchemy, it takes base matter and turns it into the pure gold of unconstrained laughter. Or so we hope.
The London Cuckolds was first performed in 1681 and was repeated annually for 70 years. Terry Johnson’s updated version keeps true to its anarchic spirit but the pace has quickened, so that it canters along in the shameless amorality of true farce.
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