This is a wondrously rich, full, and instructive comedy, worthy of being praised in the same breath as the masterpieces of Dickens, Thackeray and Trollope. Alfred Evelyn, the central character, is a poor cousin who has underestimated the love, virtue, and wisdom of the woman he hopes to marry, Clara Douglas. She rejects his suit because she believes that Charles must marry money to fulfill his potential. From the bitter example of her own father, Clara sees that her lack of money will hold her beloved back. Charles misunderstands, thinking it's his poverty that stands between him and marital bliss. So when he unexpectedly inherits fabulous wealth, he spurns Clara. Yet he still burns for her love. He's on the verge of marrying the vacuous daughter of his crafty former employer, Sir John Vesey, when he finally sees the light. Victoria Hamilton is radiant and resolute as the long-suffering Clara, and Simon Russell Beale deftly combines moral intensity and emotional torment as Alfred. But the couple never clicks in the clinches, and director John Caird has no intention of compensating for the absent chemistry in Bulwer-Lytton's script.
The void is partially filled by the venal Veseys. Denis Quilley is so fastidiously wicked as Sir John, you chuckle as you gasp, and Sophie Okonedo is deliciously clueless as daughter Georgina. But it's Roger Allam who is most hilarious as the extravagantly-mournful widower Graves, engagingly abetted by Patricia Hodge as Lady Franklin, the patrician who labors so earnestly and indulgently to seduce him. Presentation is somewhat leisurely and humdrum, but the wit, wisdom and idealism are all substantial stuff -- and the evening delivers a sense of completeness and resolution that is all too rare.
