In 1884, an orphan of ten years old, Somerset Maugham was sent from his native France to live with his uncle in England. After a miserable childhood in Canterbury he moved to London and qualified as a doctor even though by the time he was eighteen he knew he only wanted to write. Better known for his novels, most notably The Moon and Sixpence and the semi-autobiographical Of Human Bondage, Somerset Maugham nevertheless wrote several plays which have stood the test of time. 
     The Constant Wife, currently at the Apollo, directed by Edward Hall and starring Jenny Seagrove and Simon Williams, is quite astounding in its modernity. A truly feminist play, many of the sentiments expressed still manage to shock to a certain extent. 
     Constance has been married to John for 15 years. On the surface everything seems rosy but we discover immediately that John is having an affair. Not only that, but he is conducting it with Constance's best friend, Marie-Louise (an over-simpering Sara Crowe). What we don't discover is that Constance already knows about it. As her sister, mother and another friend argue about whether she should be told or not, she artfully deflects them. Only when the affair is thrown in her face by Marie-Louise's husband, Mortimer, and she convinces him in front of everybody that it was she, and not her husband, who left a cigarette case under Marie-Louise's pillow, do we, and her family, realise the truth. Mortimer leaves, apologising for having insulted all three of them, and Constance is left to face her thunderstruck family and friends. 
    All, for their own personal reasons, cannot fathom why Constance can have kept her knowledge a secret for so long, or why she seems to accept the situation with such equanimity. By the same token, as she starts a career and ultimately decides to have her own affair, the people closest to her fail to comprehend her actions. Her reasoning is simple: so long as she is supported financially by her husband she believes she owes him her fidelity, but once she has earned her financial freedom she feels she has the right to sexual freedom. Gripping stuff, especially when one considers that it was written in 1927. 
     Jenny Seagrove is wonderfully natural as Constance. She is charming and attractive but not so perfect that she ceases to be real. She manages to lie and be cunning without us losing our belief in her innate goodness. But unfortunately she seems to be acting in a different play from the rest of the cast as, almost without exception, they seem convinced that everybody who lived in the twenties was stiff and affected. I found it impossible to believe that this warm sexy woman could ever have lived in the same era as Stephen Pacey's John let alone been in love with him. The same is to be said of Simon Williams' Bernard, although at least his stiffness was a character trait rather than an attitude to period drama. It was just as impossible to imagine that this Marie-Louise and this Constance could be friends. 
     I somehow felt rather let-down at the end of the evening, perhaps because I did not really care enough about anybody. Despite all of this it is a very watchable and even enjoyable production. It is well-paced and has the right balance of comedy within its serious framework. There are some wonderful moments and some unforgettable lines. Somerset Maugham has been described as the bridge between Wilde and Wilder and The Constant Wife confirms what an apt description this is.
Francine Brody