The Silo theatre is arranged with table seating. Mood lighting reveals the gloomy parlour of an English manor, Mandacrest Estate, with its dramatic portrait of the late Irma Vep watching the proceedings with grim foreboding, and making me feel like an unwelcome dinner guest.

Enter Oliver Driver* as Jane the housekeeper, who gets a laugh barely before he’s twitched an eyebrow, let alone moved or spoken. Driver’s Jane is to die for – towering, scathing, well-spoken, suspiciously masculine. [I wanted to take her home but was afraid she might step on the children unawares, in her valiant efforts to dust the place from top to bottom.]

As usual, I’m thinking as he (she) whisks about the room reprimanding and rearranging in a mammoth floor-length dress – what the hell’s he wearing on his feet to be so tall and how come he’s not tripping over them? Until the next scene with Driver as quintessential English toff, Lord Edgar, whose visible boots prove that all 6’6" of him are the real deal.

Then in comes the furtive, slightly hunched Nicodemius, played by Michael Hurst (the first but by no means the last time that echoes of Rocky Horror sneak in), who’s, well, short. Together they are a sight for sore eyes. Hurst also plays Lady Enid and an Egyptian tour guide, and Driver is Lord Edgar, among other things…

The frequent and fast costume changes (the two actors play 8 characters between them and both genders) make for hilarious entrances and exits, requiring a quick wit on the part of the actors who must not only get in and out of puffy dresses, wigs, hunting gear, etc, but also contrasting characters, without breaking (too much of) a sweat.

Charles Ludlum’s twisted, sharp, hugely popular comedy is a parody of several genres in film, theatre and literature, including the penny dreadful, gothic novel and horror/suspense films, borrowing in particular from The Mummy’s Curse, Hitchcock’s Rebecca and Wuthering Heights. It’s a good old Shakespearean-style romp to boot – occasionally lewd, but harmless fun for all ages. And there are plenty of other finely tuned references for us literary geeks.

The plot itself is not really the point, but I’ll sum it up anyway: Lady Enid has recently replaced the late Lady Irma, who’s looming portrait ensures no one forgets her for an instant. Lord Edgar hasn’t quite moved on, nor has her maid, Jane, for that matter – stubborn Irma, though three years deceased, still has a firm grip on the household. Lady Enid wants them all to make a fresh start but realises she first has to solve the mystery: Who is Irma Vep, really, and what happened to her? A mummy, howling wolves, Lord Edgar’s Egyptology treatise, and Jane’s secret flair for noir storytelling gradually throw rays of eerie moonlight on the matter.

The ending’s a bit shambolic, and it all comes to such a peak of activity in the last few scenes I can’t actually remember who killed who and exactly who was behind what. Nor did I care, such was the culmination of ludicrous visual gags and fantastically over-the-top scripting. We were still laughing to the last curtain call (not least because all four main characters came to take a bow, which necessitated another flurry of costume changes).

These guys, ‘two of the country’s greatest theatrical show-offs’, are in their element in this camp gothic parody, complete with mummies, vampires, werewolves and cross-dressing (to which neither are strangers). What with the complications of costume changes, gender switches and the blurring of time periods, a few faux pas and bloopers are bound to happen and only add to the hilarity. The quintessential duo obviously enjoy themselves as thoroughly as their audience do. Taking the mickey out of theatre itself, Irma Vep takes dark, brooding melodrama to hilarious extremes.

The show is jam-packed with gags, so some of its potential to amuse is probably missed in a single viewing. Go and see it, then go and see it again (I’m going to).

*Trygve Wakenshaw will appear at the following shows:
Friday November 16th at 8pm
Saturday November 24th at 8pm
Monday December 3rd at 7pm

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