This is a revival of a play Caryl Churchill first devised in 1976 with Monstrous Regiment. It is set in the seventeenth century so is doubly a period piece. Further chronological displacement is caused by the decision to stage it, in the trendy Cobden Club in what estate agents may be calling North Kensington, as a cabaret (think Cabaret) with two singing hostesses in white tie. Superstitious, almost late Middle Ages, rural England meets 1970s London feminism meets Mr Issyvoo. It does not meld; it does not matter. Scenes of Poldark-like rumpypumpy and butter that won't come and sick cattle are interspersed with satirical songs in which the hostesses join the cast on stage and sing about menstruation, abortion and subjection ("no-one sings about it but it happens all the time") in a forceful agitprop style. Then it reverts to Mummerset and gradually the tone becomes more sinister, moving from the Archers to the Crucible. There is a lot of cursing people to the devil and believing in the power of such curses. Neighbours fall out over scrounging and end up bandying accusations of witchcraft. The point of no return is reached when the "searchers" arrive and it is clear that they do not leave without finding what they seek. Alice's mother and the "cunning woman" (a sort of white witch herbalist) are hanged; Alice and her friend Susan who took the cunning woman's potion to rid herself of the umpteenth child are spared but without some nasty moments being pricked to see if they bleed or to find the devil's spot where there is no pain and no blood. It is fun and unsettling; the days of fearing witches may be over, but the feminist issues are hardly resolved. Nor for that matter is the place of herbalism in our pharmacopeia. The play keeps moving and there are some catchy songs and a nice sardonic hymn. The acting is fine, especially Roma Foulds as a convincing Alice, a girl with a generous attitude to sex and equality of the sexes and a desire to go to London and Scotland where they order things better. It remains unclear whether in the opening scene she has slept with the devil or Mr Darcy. But it is appropriate for such a performance to be put on in a venue named after Richard Cobden; and you can have a pre-theatre supper in the Cobden's dining room at £15 for 2 courses which is decent value. Allow a little time as the serving staff seem stretched.
James Flynn