After the Ball
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A Wilde Affair: After the Ball on the West End
The West End has long been a crucible for theatrical innovation, and After the Ball, a musical by Noël Coward, stands as a fascinating if flawed chapter in its history. Premiering at the Globe Theatre (now the Gielgud) on June 10, 1954, this adaptation of Oscar Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan ran for 188 performances, closing on November 20 of that year. With Coward’s music and lyrics paired with a book he crafted from Wilde’s play, the production promised a fusion of wit and melody under the direction of Robert Helpmann. Yet, despite its pedigree, After the Ball stumbled, leaving behind a legacy of ambition undone by execution a tale as dramatic as its source material.
Origins and Ambition
Coward conceived After the Ball in August 1953, envisioning a musical take on Wilde’s 1892 comedy of manners. Fresh from successes like Blithe Spirit, he saw potential in the play’s sharp dialogue and tangled relationships. Working through the winter in Jamaica, Coward delegated the initial script to his assistant, Cole Lesley, who trimmed Wilde’s melodrama and carved space for songs. By January 1954, Coward had penned what he called some of his “best lyrics,” predicting a triumph. Norman Hackforth, his music director, joined him to polish the score, and the piece took shape as a blend of Wilde’s Victorian satire and Coward’s urbane sophistication.
The musical’s journey to the West End began with a provincial tryout in Bristol on April 1, 1954. Coward’s high hopes crashed against a shambolic preview inaudible performers, a dismal orchestra, and a production lacking style. He swiftly rewrote, reorchestrated, and fired Hackforth, replacing him with Phil Green. Yet, even with these fixes, After the Ball arrived in London as a work in progress, its potential muddled by its execution.
The Plot: Fans and Folly
After the Ball retains the core of Wilde’s Lady Windermere’s Fan, set in 1890s London society. Lady Windermere, suspecting her husband of infidelity with the mysterious Mrs. Erlynne, threatens to leave him. At a ball, she nearly compromises herself by visiting Lord Darlington’s rooms, only for Mrs. Erlynne revealed secretly as her mother to intervene, claiming the fan Lady Windermere dropped as her own. This sacrifice saves Lady Windermere’s reputation but tarnishes Mrs. Erlynne’s, though her admirer, Lord Augustus, proposes, ensuring a happy ending. The Windermeres reconcile, blissfully unaware of Mrs. Erlynne’s maternal tie.
Coward’s adaptation keeps Wilde’s mistaken identities and social barbs, adding musical interludes to heighten the drama. The plot hinges on farcical misunderstandings, a hallmark of both creators, but struggles to balance Wilde’s biting prose with Coward’s lighter touch a tension that would define the show’s reception.
A Musical Misadventure
Coward’s score for After the Ball aimed to marry his lyrical finesse with Wilde’s elegance. Songs like Mrs. Erlynne’s entrance and a first-act aria showcased his talent, but vocal challenges forced their excision. Remaining numbers such as “Oh, What a Century” and “I Knew That You Would Be My Love” offered charm, with the latter a duet for Lady Windermere (Vanessa Lee) and her husband (Peter Graves). “Something on a Tray,” sung by Irene Browne’s Duchess of Berwick, brought comic relief, while ensemble pieces like “London at Night” painted a glittering backdrop.
The Globe’s orchestra, retooled by Phil Green, delivered a polished sound, yet critics found the music pleasant but unmemorable next to Coward’s earlier hits like Bitter Sweet. The score’s reliance on operetta conventions clashed with Wilde’s modernity, leaving it a mixed bag lovely in moments, but lacking the punch to carry the show.
The West End Run
Opening with high expectations, After the Ball boasted a cast of West End stalwarts. Mary Ellis starred as Mrs. Erlynne, her acting praised but her singing described by Coward as “someone fucking the cat” a liability that gutted key numbers. Vanessa Lee’s Lady Windermere shone vocally, though her performance lacked depth, while Peter Graves and Irene Browne rounded out a talented ensemble. Helpmann’s staging leaned on lush sets and period costumes, evoking Wilde’s world, but failed to unify the production’s disparate tones.
Running for 188 performances, the show drew mixed reviews. The daily press was “well-disposed,” per Coward, and Harold Hobson’s Sunday Times rave buoyed ticket sales. Yet, others found it a “curious hybrid,” neither Wilde nor Coward at their best. Its decent run reflected Coward’s draw, but its closure signaled a rare misstep for the playwright-composer.
A Centenary Revival
After the Ball saw a brief West End resurgence in 1999, during Coward’s centenary, at the Peacock Theatre. Conducted by John McGlinn, this revival aimed to honor the musical’s intent, restoring cut songs and refining the staging. While it didn’t match the original’s scale, it offered fans a chance to reassess a work Coward himself had deemed “terribly disappointing.” The production underscored the show’s potential a witty, melodic curiosity undone by its initial flaws.
Why It Faltered
After the Ball’s West End fate hinges on multiple misfires. The marriage of Wilde’s acerbic satire and Coward’s breezy style proved uneasy, with the former’s weight overpowering the latter’s levity. Ellis’s vocal struggles crippled the score, and Helpmann’s direction couldn’t bridge the gap between play and musical. Postwar audiences, shifting toward sharper comedies or grander spectacles, found its Victorian whimsy dated. Unlike Bitter Sweet or Private Lives, it lacked a timeless hook, fading into obscurity beyond its 1954 run and 1999 nod.
A Ball Worth Remembering
For West End theatergoers in 1954, After the Ball was a curious fling a chance to see Coward wrestle with Wilde in a swirl of song and satire. Its 188 performances and brief revival speak to a lingering allure, even if it never soared as hoped. In a career of dazzling highs, this was Coward’s rare stumble, a “what might have been” that fascinates more for its flaws than its triumphs. In the West End’s vast tapestry, After the Ball remains a footnote a stylish, star-crossed experiment that danced briefly before the curtain fell.