Theatre review: Handbagged, Vaudeville

Much has been written about Margret Thatcher since she died. There have been films, biographies, documentaries and theatrical tributes. But none have managed to bring British politics’ most famous battleaxe back to life in quite such sparkling form as Moira Buffini’s witty and watchable play which has just transferred to the West End’s Vaudeville Theatre.

The premise is both simple and engaging—what did Mrs Thatcher and the Queen discuss in their weekly meetings which spanned an 11 year period from 1979 to 1990? On the surface Her Madge and Her Majesty had little in common, one was a grocer’s daughter who had climbed the greasy pole, the other was born to a life of inherited privilege but, although their expression of it differed, they shared a unique position of power.

Despite the private nature of their conversations (no known records exist), Buffini has successfully fictionalised their uncomfortable relationship. The play hones in on The Sunday Times’ 1986 cover story which reported the Queen’s apparent dismay at Mrs Thatcher’s “uncaring” policies and hard-hearted style of government. Buffini is not the only playwright to be inspired by this female clash of values—Peter Morgan drew on it in his award-winning play The Audience (2013) which starred Helen Mirren.

“When Mrs Thatcher died, my kids asked ‘why does everyone hate that poor old lady,’” says Buffini. “I wanted to tell the truth about why she was such a divisive figure and her relationship with the Queen is a fascinating prism through which to do so. Up until Mrs Thatcher, the Queen’s prime ministers had been significantly older than her. These two women were only six months apart in age and were equals in many ways except that one had to curtsey to the other.”

Buffini’s skill as a dramatist is evidenced in her decision to double-up the lead roles, giving us older and younger versions of the Queen (Lucy Robinson and Marion Bailey) and the Iron Lady (Fenella Wolgar and Stella Gonet) on stage throughout the proceedings. While the younger pair (Liz and Mags) remain constrained by the formality of their roles (and the copious amounts of hairspray used to keep their power bouffants in place), their older selves (Q and T) contradict and quibble their memories of events. “Philip and I had put money on the [election] result,” says the young monarch. “No we had not,” retorts the older Queen.

Stella Gonet excels as the older Mrs Thatcher, a still impressive but increasingly embattled figure. Far more than a mere impression, Gonet captures every mannerism and emotion (or lack of) in almost uncanny fashion. Fenella Woolgar has the easier task of playing to the somewhat stereotyped image of a younger, more strident Thatcher. When asked if she ever listens, Woolgar’s Thatcher replies, “When one knows one is right, that is very hard.” Marion Bailey plays the older Queen for laughs, depicting her as a gossipy, gin-loving granny who in a moment of meta-theatrical playfulness is keen to hustle things along to the interval (The Iron Lady, unsurprisingly, would prefer to “power on through”). While Lucy Robinson as the young “Liz” is the weakest link in terms of characterisation, she manages to look suitably stony-faced when it is suggested that she read The Road to Serfdom (an influential book on libertarianism by the Austrian economist Hayek). The minimalist set, a white steel structure shaped like a Union Jack, provides a suitable backdrop for the verbal jousts of these two patriots.

This might be a remarkably female-centric production—it’s written by a woman, directed by a woman (Tricyle Theatre director Indhu Rubasingham), and stars four women—but there is an implicit irony in that feminists traditionally revile Mrs Thatcher for not doing enough to further their cause. Yet Rubasingham is confident that the play will appeal to the Iron Lady’s detractors; “There is a joy in seeing four actresses on the stage talking about their own power, instead of their relationships with men. I hated Maggie growing up but I can’t help admire what she achieved—women can barely break through the glass ceiling today.”

There are a few weak moments, largely due to the play betraying its fringe roots—it first debuted in shorter form as part of the Tricycle's 2010 project, Women, Power and Politics. The only men in the production, Neet Mohan and Jeff Rawle, together tackle 16 roles some of which just about come off—Rawle as Denis is overblown but endearing. While others jar badly with the fluidity of the female performances—a dragged-up Mohan as Nancy Reagan is caricature at its worst. While such flaws might be forgivable in the intimacy of a fringe setting, they were painfully exposed on the Vaudeville’s sizeable stage.

But, judging by the laughter levels on the first night these are minor grievances which could be easily corrected (cut Nancy Reagan—please). Handbagged is political theatre at its comedic best, being both informative and entertaining in equal measure. “The risk with ‘political theatre’ is that the politics will overshadow the plot,” says Rubasingham. “This could have been such a turgid play but that’s what’s so brilliant about Moria’s writing—she removes herself from the script and allows the audience to fully inhabit these characters. It’s pure theatre.”