Written by William Shakespeare

Freely adapted from “The Merry Wives of Windsor” by Gordon Barr

Directed by Gordon Barr

Tickets from £19.00

There’s nothing that a good roll n’ sausage, chamomile tea, or solid sesh’ down at the pub won’t solve. And for those difficult days which need something a little extra, well, there’s always a pleasant night of sparkling comedy, smiles, and punchy performance from Bard in the Botanics’ The Merry Wives of Wishaw.

Admirably, and frankly, mercifully, Barr is open with how The Merry Wives isn’t Shakespeare’s best. It isn’t even close. And here, for the second half of the 2024 Bards’ season, the first triumphant feather in Barr’s cap is the relocation to Wishaw, the title alone conjuring enough gags to stir a grin.

In shifting the structure from a world which many audiences will find alien and distant, instead channels the flimsier narrative into familiar territory – flooding the gaps in the script with applicable scenarios, locales, references, and colourful characters, none more so than the returning Alan Steele in their CATS-nominated performance as Sir John Falstaff who finds himself, unsurprisingly, in a new scheme to hoodwink and to locate new grounds. The issue? The women of Wishaw are known for one thing: a right good gab.

And right there is the second feather: the cast. Similarly to the past year’s Importance of Being Ernest, the Bard in the Botanics’ season greatly benefits from one of Scotland’s finest comedic ensembles (though never doubt their dramatic chops), lead by Steele’s slithering, self-serving, and oh-so revoltingly satisfying central role of Falstaff. But there are sobering moments too; opening with audio of our last encounter with Falstaff in a different life, last year’s Henry IV. This is a Falstaff on the run, beaten and broken, desperate. And it’s at the bottom of a pink wheelie bin where we find the golden nuggets of farcical and depreciative humour.

The Bert & Ernie of the Botanics, when Steele and Stephen Arden share the stage – magic happens. And even the odd corpsed flub does nothing but enhance it all. From fake moustaches to some choice choreographed humour and tomfoolery, the pair are a delight to watch. But it’s not all played for jest: of the entire cast, Steele and Arden control the language and bouncing rhythm of Shakespeare’s original influence on the script magnificently – rather than the occasional dip of dialect, or heavily rolled letter, their diction and inflexions make for a delightfully North-Lanarkshire-Thespian spin on the roles, as does a smashing character-performance from Isabelle Ross’ in-the-know Nell Page.

The more earnest moments come in the form of Johnny Panchaud’s Poins, Falstaff’s cohort and potentially only true friend left. Following some Benny Hill escapades, some terrific physical comedy and fight choreography and japes, the finale echoes with sincerity and gravity which comes from their performance is touching, poignant, and sets up the greatest show-closer a BITB’s production has had in recent years.

Looking entirely at home with their brilliant stage partner-in-crime Claire Macallister and Éimi Quinn is Kyle Gardiner – a welcome addition to the season. The trio’s onstage chemistry is sparkling. Gardiner’s more unpredictable charge balances Quinn’s eye-rolling snark, striking reminders from the pair’s dynamic and brilliant performances in Quinn’s The Funeral Club earlier this year. All three are animated in movement with spikey or flowing movements and expressions that push the rest of the narrative to match their pacing – almost an extension of the cartoonish backdrop which accompanies the production, its small-scale design work carrying the tone of the show, and in a ‘here’s what you could have won‘ shift of transitions and scene changes from nail-salon or haunted abbey, all decked out in some hun-tastic.

Unsurprisingly, with so many of the Byre Theatre’s Panto performers (also produced by Bard in the Botanics), their energy is utilised, including some much-encouraged audience interactions and a few performances breaking that fourth wall. And if anything, Wishaw could benefit from pushing all the dials up to eleven, embracing the more ludicrous off-the-wall elements even further: for when performances and the script allow it, the humour and laughs gush out of the audience – but it takes a good chunk of time for the early narrative expositions to pass, and the humour to kick in.

But, for a show which could have easily been a case of ‘get it over with’ to tick off the Shakespeare catalogue, Barr and the team instead pour out a double, slap on the leopard-leggings and fake designers, and drag the bard kicking and screaming along the West Coast and revitalise a (then) contemporary piece for an even more modern audience to clever and jolly effect.  

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