Having to be in the company of one person for an extended period of time, for a number of years or - bound by the oaths of marriage - for the rest of your life, can be a challenge. To know someone too well is for their grating little habits to grow and grow until they become all consuming in their power to infuriate. Cynical you might say, but familiar. Such domestic disharmony provides the common thread running through the four short Happy Yet? plays by French writer Georges Feydeau, adapted by Linda McLean. 
      Written in the early 20th century, this set of plays was born out of the Belle Epoch of elegance and respectability set against a back-drop of shocking indecency. Feydeau is known for his humorous, even farcical, take on subjects whose comical content is not obvious. In Happy Yet? he observes the tiring antagonism between couples for whom mutual resentment has become ingrained and normal, and for whom the pressing concern of 'being the way couples should be' serves only to exasperate the situation. 
      Four short scenarios give us slightly different versions of relationships riddled with problems. In one Mme Chouilloux (Allison Cologna) refuses to wear anything but underwear in the house despite her husband's (Duncan Wisbey) desperate wish to establish a respectable reputation as a future government minister. In another a pregnant wife throws a huge tantrum when her husband fails to entertain her by putting a potty on his head while she suffers labour contractions. Each scenario becomes progressively frantic and absurd, and unfortunately like the annoying habits of a familiar partner, as one's familiarity grows - in this case with each story's homogenous formula - one's tolerance plummets. 
      All in all, the four scenarios are not different enough. This is in part due to aspects inherent in the genre of writing, but also due to some ill-advised choices by director Ed Woodhall. The eight-strong cast perform a feat of boundless energy from beginning to end, and each actor succeeds in stamping some individual quality onto their role. Nevertheless such larger-than-life, high-energy performances leave little scope for light and shade. While their stamina is awe-inspiring, to watch an hour and a half of unrelenting hysteria is exhausting. 
      Perhaps McLean's adaptation fails to do justice to Feydeau, or perhaps he appeals to a very select audience. Either way, I'm sure I was not the only one relieved to return to normality where some things are funny and others - no matter how we look at them - simply aren't.
Peggy Nuttall