W. Somerset Maugham’s The Constant Wife, written and set nearly half a century after A Doll’s House, transforms Ibsen’s critiques of marriage into a sparkling 1920s comedy of manners. It’s hard not to compare with Ibsen’s masterpiece, but the purpose here is different: less a rallying cry, more a pragmatic question. What should you do if your perfect husband has an affair?
The eponymous Constance is married to the right kind of man, with the right kind of job, in the right kind of house. Unfortunately, the man in question is having an affair with Constance’s best friend. By a stroke of (bad?) luck, Constance catches the two of them in the act – but decides to keep it to herself. Over the course of the next year, she hatches a plan to gain economic independence from her husband in secret, thus giving her the autonomy to decide, guilt-free, whether to stay with him or not.
The play’s primary issue is a feminist one, and feels surprisingly modern against the stylised nature of the production. It works well because it is not prescriptive – it does not end with a bang, but open-endedly, without any indication of what Constance will decide. It is radical not because it makes any blazing declarations about women’s rights, but because of its gentle questioning of the nature of relationships that, to me, feels quite queer. Constance recognises her own agency throughout the affair, and uses that agency to take action when she is betrayed. She is a rare example of a character who sees beyond herself – she seems to be aware of wider cultural factors that have accentuated the difficulties in her marriage, and isn’t afraid to experiment with that knowledge when things go wrong.
Alongside its persistent cynicism towards traditional relationships, Laura Wade’s adaptation for the RSC gives Maugham’s play a more explicitly queer face lift through its supporting characters. Constance’s butler, Bentley, her only confidante, is secretly in love with another man; and her sister, Martha, the first person to encourage her towards financial independence, could not be more lesbian-coded. It’s nice to see a century-old feminist play updated to give a nod towards the queer people at the forefront of gender liberation struggles.
Wade’s pacing is delicious. Two hours pass in what feels like one. She keeps Maugham’s original stylised dialogue but adds self-reference and fourth-wall-breaks that go down a treat with a twenty-first century audience.
The cherry on the cake is the production’s sophisticated, expensive feel. Richly coloured silk dresses by Cat Fuller and Anna Fleischle come alive in Constance’s designer living room. Jazz interludes by Jamie Cullum are accompanied by sultry dancing and, occasionally, a ButIer who can see the set changing around him wanders onstage in the dark. In short, it’s got taste.
Far from being just another period drama, A Constant Wife dances around sharply modern questions about love, feminism and independence, without losing a sugary feel of 1920s high society. Pragmatic, intelligent and deeply funny: a shot of realism to go with dinner.
Reviewer: Holly Sewell
Reviewed: 8th July 2025
North West End UK Rating:
Alaa Shehada’s one man show about growing up in Jenin is a funny and powerful…
Tom Clarkson and Owen Visser have returned with their anarchic Christmas show, The Christmas Thing.…
It’s December and that can only mean one thing: it’s almost Christmas—well, two things, because…
How do you live a life as beautiful as the one that’s in your head?…
Published as a serial between 1836 and 1839, Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist has undergone a…
When I was a student in London I saw all the big musicals, but for…