There’s something timeless about the deceitful machinations that run through Les Liaisons Dangereuses. The French epistolary novel, originally published in 1782, and adapted by Christopher Hampton, has the Wildean wit of a sharp knife dipped in poison. The dastardly duo at the center of the play, the Marquise de Merteuil (Eilish Moran) and Vicomte de Valmont (Fergus Inder) still rank as two of the most immoral characters in all of literature. That they spend their days bored, scheming of sexual manipulations and corrupting the innocent would make Machiaveli proud.

No wonder there have been multiple adaptations for the screen; the most famous two being Hampton’s own screenplay directed by Stephen Frears (Dangerous Liaisons) and the trashy teen drama (Cruel Intentions). If anything, through our modern lens, the story is more disturbing than ever. [More]

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Stage versions of novels often struggle to furnish the detail and ample atmospherics of the original. Without having read the Laclos novel, published in 1782, it is possible nevertheless to feel confident that the stage adaptation could hardly be bettered as a  merciless dissection of sexual power games in late eighteenth century France. By implication, sophisticated carrying on is no substitute for the real thing when it comes to love.  

In the cosseted atmosphere of the aristocratic class, game playing – and not just at cards – has become an essential art, staving off the need to face social truths or indeed any honest emotion. When the guillotine falls at the end, no one should be surprised. Ross Gumbley’s direction reveals a leisured class languidly at ease with itself in a fabricated world where titillation is all and game playing of one sort or another is the accepted way to behave.

Revenge and control of the odds are prime motivators and the stakes become desperately high as the plot advances. Two expert players, former lovers, frame the action. Both use charm and immaculate deception as their strategies of choice, but plans go astray when genuine obsession interferes. 

The Marquise de Merteuil connives with the Vicomte de Valmont in the seduction of 15 year-old Cécile in an act of petty spite designed to spoil a future wedding. It takes a little persuasion to secure the Vicomte’s cooperation, since he has already set his sights on a cynical conquest of his own: a virtuous woman known for her modesty and prudence. Beyond these developments is a wider game they play against each other, which can only end in devastation for both. Their single minded machinations, betrayals and indeed cruelty make for compelling viewing. 

The other notable element of Hampton’s play is its wit and the pleasures of dramatic irony, since we have a wider understanding of most situations than at least half of the participants. In these days where frank exchange seems a quicker route to making oneself understood, the copious double entendres of the play seem heavy handed, though they serve also to confirm our own position as voyeurs witnessing pretty despicable acts.  

It all takes place in elegantly screened rooms furnished with understated but recognisably period items, against which the overstated glories and artifice of costume can be relished. The restraint of Mark McEntyre’s set allows for grace and fluidity in its various indoor manifestations and chilling surprises as the powerful climax of the play is reached. 

For the costume designers, Pam Jones and Pauline Laws, their complex task has clearly been a creative triumph. Programme notes explain the process and rationale behind their work, serving as it does to encode the characters and establish a metaphor for the silken duplicity of their doings. Wigs designed by Sarah Greenwood Buchanan effectively complete the enterprise, together with lighting from Giles Tanner, sound composed and designed by Matt Short and properties designed and managed by Julian Southgate.

Through this world of rich artifice, the players move with purposeful deliberation which belies the frivolous lifestyle. For the corseted, panniered women there is little choice. The overall effect is one of a society where everyone is watching or being watched, deceptive or being deceived. Spontaneity is at best naive and mostly clumsy.

The cast is well up for the challenge. As an innocent pair, each corrupted in the course of things, Cécile de Volanges, played by Ailis Oliver-Kerby, and Chevalier Danceny, played by Daniel Watterson, establish some sense of genuine feeling before the game players take over. Similarly the important role of the virtuous Madame de Tourvel, convincingly interpreted by Amy Straker, is critical as a marker against which the tragic outcomes of the play can be measured.

The central contest however is driven by the indomitable Marquise de Merteuil, given impeccable treatment by Eilish Moran. The character justifies her remorseless behaviour by citing the double standards that apply to men and women in matters of sexual conquest, but her deadly manipulation of the games at play seems really to be about winning at all costs.

Equally impressive is the work of Fergus Inder as Vicomte de Valmont. His tortured final scene with Madame de Tourvel has us almost sorry for the monster, trapped in a liaison whose dangers he had, in his self-belief, underestimated.

In its darkly compelling way, the play sets us thinking again about the abuse of power and the ultimate futility of pretending that revenge is an answer. 

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