The latest revival of The Importance of Being Earnest at the Noël Coward Theatre offers a lively and lavish re-imagining of Oscar Wilde’s 1895 comedy, directed by Max Webster and featuring a cast led by Olly Alexander (Algernon Moncrieff), Nathan Stewart‑Jarrett (Jack Worthing) and Stephen Fry (Lady Bracknell). On balance, the production succeeds in refreshing the text for a modern audience but falls short of the razor-sharp precision Wilde’s original demands.
Set in the high camp world of Victorian respectability, the piece begins with two bachelor friends engaged in double lives: Jack Worthing leads a respectable life in the country while his alter ego Ernest allows him city freedom; Algernon Moncrieff likewise invents the carefree escapade of Bunburying. Jack visits Algernon in town, sparking flirtation with Gwendolen Fairfax (Kitty Hawthorne) and banter about identity and engagement. Soon the action shifts into Jack’s country house where Algernon arrives incognito and meets Cecily Cardew (Jessica Whitehurst), leading to a tea-time scene of comic rivalry. The tangled deceptions unravel amid Lady Bracknell’s societal scrutiny and a final revelation that underlines the title’s point: earnestness is less important than the name Ernest. The narrative flows briskly but never completely disguises that Wilde’s plot is a slender springboard for jest and irony.
Olly Alexander’s Algernon scans as mischievous and charming, his lightness of step and slight smirk conveying someone who knows the game and enjoys it. His decision to lean into flamboyance feels in tune with this staging’s boldness, though at times it tilts toward spectacle rather than wit. Nathan Stewart-Jarrett as Jack Worthing delivers a grounded, slightly exasperated performance; his more serious tone anchors the action when the rest of the company are in full gleam. Stephen Fry’s Lady Bracknell is the scene-stealer: tall, clipped, and dressed in emerald-green and purple taffeta, he handles Wilde’s famous lines with relish and the hint of a wry smile beneath the iron. The dynamic between the three leads gives the show its propulsion and charm.
Webster’s production aims to draw out the performative nature of identity: the masquerades, the secret names, the polite lies. In doing so, it highlights themes of role-play, disguise and defiance of convention. The direction leans heavily into camp, from a hot-pink ballgown worn by Algernon in the prologue to the exaggerated physicality of the tea party scene where sugar lumps become symbolic ammunition. The design by Rae Smith is sumptuous: the town drawing-room glows lemon-cream, the rose-garden scene is bursting with colour, frills and bustles everywhere. Yet while the production visually dazzles, some critics found its subtext heavier than the original’s subtle satire, a chorus of fourth-wall nods, knowing winks and drag-style gestures may amuse but occasionally distract from Wilde’s dialogue-driven comedy.
At several moments the staging shifts tone. For instance, during the country house scene the doors open to frame two muscular male statues, a conscious nod to overlooked Victorian desire. The tea-time spat becomes a miniature farce inside the broader satire, and the final scene climaxes in the library where the young couple’s declarations crash into Lady Bracknell’s societal ledger. Those moments give the production its arresting energy. But the direction sometimes sacrifices sharpness for exuberance: what should bellow like a pistol shot becomes a broad fire-work display.
Still, the piece has serious resonance. The production’s queer-friendly sensibility, its celebration of flamboyance and its suggestion that sincerity might just be another costume, speak to present-day audiences.
On the matter of pacing and tone there are trade-offs. Compared with earlier versions of the play, which often emphasise poised delivery and quiet wit, this one chooses sparkle and celebration over stealth. That choice won’t offend all, but purists may miss the hush behind the laughter.
Who will enjoy this production? If you like your theatre bold, playful and visually opulent, this show offers a West End evening of charm and schtick. Fans of drag-style flourishes, flamboyant costumes and revelry will find much to applaud. On the other hand, if you prefer your Wilde lean, sharp and quietly vicious in its satire, this may feel just a touch too glittering, the edges somewhat softened. Either way, it is a feast in frills that honours its text while dressing it up.