Shaw Festival's 'Jeeves & Wooster' comedy is unhinged — in the best possible way

I’m writing figuratively, of course. But how else to describe Irving, Atkins and Seetoo’s death-defying high-wire act? It’s a master class of physical comedy in which one step wrong could lead to disaster. 

Brothers Robert and David Goodale’s stage adaptation of the P.G. Wodehouse comic novel “The Code of the Woosters” is unhinged in the best ways possible. Think of the physicality of “The Play That Goes Wrong” paired with the sensibilities of “A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder,” with the chaos of an “SCTV” skit sprinkled on top. 

Framed as a play-within-a-play, this two-act comedy centres on the bumbling young aristocrat Bertie Wooster (Irving), his loyal butler Jeeves (Atkins) and another manservant named Seppings (Seetoo), who, at Bertie’s behest, spontaneously put on a play recounting the events in “The Code of the Woosters.”

The story is one of various dramatic entanglements and follows Bertie as he’s summoned to a country estate called Totleigh Towers by his nerdy, newt-loving pal, Gussie Fink-Nottle, whose relationship with his fiancée, Madeline, is on the rocks. 

Bertie, however, is also there on a covert mission, having been blackmailed by his Aunt Dahlia to pinch an expensive cow creamer belonging to Sir Watkyn Bassett, the no-nonsense proprietor of Totleigh Towers and Gussie’s soon-to-be father-in-law. 

The brilliance of the original novel, the third in a series centred on the characters of Jeeves and Wooster, lies in Wodehouse’s writing, sparkling with metaphorical language and wit that flies off the page. The British humourist possessed a skilful ability to build each chapter, much like a scene in a play, toward a climactic twist or revelation, pushing and pulling the narrative to accentuate key points.

“Perfect Nonsense,” however, captures only a sliver of the book’s wit in its dialogue. And much of that humour is lifted directly from the novel itself. 

The biggest issue with this adaptation is that it’s almost too faithful to the original material. In trying to include each and every plot point from “The Code of the Woosters” in its play-within-a-play, “Perfect Nonsense” is so frantic that it rarely offers an opportunity for the text and its humour to breathe. 

But if there’s little wit to be found in the dialogue, that deficit is more than made up for by the physical comedy in this Shaw Festival production, directed by Brendan McMurtry-Howlett.

Much of the humour is derived from the fact that Atkins and Seetoo, as Jeeves and Seppings, play a multitude of roles, switching in and out of characters faster than you can ask yourself how they could possibly change costumes that quickly. (The costumes, along with the sets, are designed by Sim Suzer.) 

The three actors are brilliant and possess the kind of trust in each other that a circus performer would have with their spotters. 

Irving, as Bertie, carries himself like a jumpy young child who’s been left to his own devices inside an empty amusement park. Seetoo especially shines in the play-within-a-play as Sir Watkyn Bassett’s domineering and imposing friend, Roderick Spode, twisting the ends of his sentences with more curl than an Italian man’s handlebar moustache. And Atkins, who probably has the busiest part in the show, tears the house down in one rip-roaring scene in which he plays two characters simultaneously. 

Physical comedy like this isn’t easy. In the hands of lesser performers, the energy on stage could wane. But not so here. Just when you think that the visual gags may be getting repetitive, McMurtry-Howlett ensures the stakes are raised ever higher. (In the case of Seetoo, as Roderick, that’s quite literally the case.) 

So talented is this cast that not even an uncooperative fake moustache could derail the performance I attended. And when one intrepid audience member decided to break the fourth wall and interact with the actors, they took it all in stride, segueing into a bit of improv before returning to the scheduled proceedings (and earning some well-deserved applause along the way). That’s a hell of a high-wire act, if I’ve ever seen one.