ajhlovestheatre

WHEN WE ARE MARRIED 

by J B Priestley 

directed by Tim Sheader

Donmar Warehouse, London – until 7 February 2026

running time: 2 hours including interval 

https://www.donmarwarehouse.com/whats-on/when-we-are-married-rg17

Although the only reference to Christmas is as an oft-used expletive in lieu of something much more blasphemous, there is still something cosily festive about J B Priestley’s When We Are Married, written in 1934 but set three decades earlier, especially as presented in this glowing Donmar revival. Under director Tim Sheader, a vintage play comes up fresh, funny and engaging, punctuated by blasts of contemporary pop, at odds with the period frocks and suits but wittily commentating on the action.

A trio of wealthy Northern couples, the dignitaries and do-gooders of their Yorkshire town, get together to celebrate their joint twenty fifth wedding anniversary, only to discover that the clergyman who married them wasn’t fully qualified so they’ve effectively been living ‘in sin’ for quarter of a century. It’s a dated premise but the vitality of the performances and Sheader’s sparky approach ensure that this Priestley seldom creaks.

Instead of treating the play like a museum piece, Sheader plays fast and loose with it, while keeping in tune with the essence of what Priestley wrote. A beloved character (the wry maid Ruby Birthday) is cut, anachronistic pop divides scenes (watching the three crestfallen wives enter to Beyoncé’s ‘All The Single Ladies’ is as hilarious as almost anything in the script) and each act begins with a Music Hall favourite from the period that the play is set in. 

Visually, it’s in period but heightened and stylised, from the crazed mustard yellows and deep purple of Peter McKintosh’s drawing room set, dominated by a cartoonishly huge aspidistra, to Anna Fleischle’s elaborate costumes which are on the garish side of pretty. If it’s not as thorough refresh of an antiquated play as Nancy Carroll’s version of the Pinero Cabinet Minister at the Menier last year, one suspects that the Priestley doesn’t need as much help. This is a definite treat, and one of those clever revivals that satisfies traditionalists as well as audience members wanting something a bit more daring.

The production’s most effervescent success is in the casting. Each couple (Siobhan Finneran and John Hodgkinson as the grander Helliwells, Samantha Spiro and Jim Howick as the unequal Soppitts – she’s a spitfire, he’s a sweetie, and Sophie Thompson and Marc Wootton as the wildly mismatched Parkers) is wonderfully discrete from the others, and the longstanding friendships ring entirely true. The women are particularly strong: Spiro is a hilarious, fiery ball of indignation as snobbish Clara, and few actresses do baleful disapproval with a naughty edge as irresistibly as Thompson. Finneran’s performance just makes you wish she did more stage work; her descent from stentorian confidence to insecure disillusionment is brilliantly managed: when she tremulously asks Hodgkinson’s gimlet-eyed Alderman if he still loves her, it knocks at the heart a little. 

Ron Cook delivers some of the greatest ‘drunk acting’ I’ve ever seen as the permanently soused photographer arrived to capture the celebrations. Tori Allen- Martin is just gorgeous as a vivacious gold-digger and Janice Connolly’s righteous livewire of a domestic servant, thrilled at having one over on her pompous employers,  is a glorious creation. Leo Wringer as a Caribbean accented priest, and Rowan Robinson and Reuben Joseph as a pair of ardent but illicit lovers, all produce bright, witty work. It’s a smashing company overall and one suspects they’ll gel even more as the run progresses. 

This is a thoroughly lovely romp, sumptuously produced and acted. The Donmar has given theatregoers a life-enhancing Christmas gift.