This is not your esteemed patroness’s kind of theatrical production. Fresh off a sellout run in Australia, Plied and Prejudice is bringing their boozy Austen adaptation to the novelist’s homeland; unleashing their tongue-in-cheek charm and infectious energy on London audiences with five actors, twenty roles and tipples aplenty.
Located at The Vaults Theatre, the comedy theatre show throws etiquette out the spotless sash windows as they put a modern twist on the period story we all know and love. Intrigued, we headed over to join the party at Pemberley, read on for our review of Plied and Prejudice…
🍾 Fancy being among the first to experience the show? You can enjoy 10% off preview shows from March 13-23. Make sure to get your tickets now, the discount will be applied at checkout.
Where exactly is it?
You’ll find The Vaults Theatre a five-minute promenade from the suited-and-booted bustle of Waterloo station. The entrance lies just off nearby Launcelot Street, taking you under chuntering railway tracks and into a pre-show space complete with live musicians, photo ops and, most importantly, a bar.
Chapter one: Pre-show Potables
As we stepped off the soggy streets of London and followed Bridgerton-reminiscent music into a wisteria-filled Vaults Theatre, it felt like we were hiding from the strict Austen-authenticity devotees to party with her iconic characters on their day off. Polite society be damned.
Luckily, the underground venue has an air of secrecy – the real world is hidden away outside the brick walls so you can easily immerse yourself in the experience. And what better way to do so than grab a drink. It is Plied and Prejudice after all. There were plenty of options, from pun-loving cocktails (think Pemberley Punch, Dark and Darcy…you get the jist) to Tattinger champagne. We kicked off the evening with a frozen marg, aka The Wickham Whirl, which the menu claims ‘might look charming, but it’ll ruin you’. They weren’t wrong, while I modestly stuck with just one, I imagine a succession of them could easily make you the poster child for the word ‘plied’.
Chapter Two: The Show Begins
Drinks and conversation flowing, it was a smooth transition from pre-show to the main event and we soon found ourselves settling into a seat along the stage. Well, it’s less of a stage and more of a harlequin-floored walkway, bookended by vibrant building facades which favour a colourful, comic-book style over the standard pastels and plushness you might expect. Immediately it’s evident this won’t be your typical Pride and Prejudice production.
As the show gets into full swing it is quickly apparent that there is no room for boredom or cynicism here. There are five actors playing twenty roles, if they can barely get a breather then neither can you – and that’s half the fun of it. In a frankly athletic display of versatility, improvisation and, oftentimes, dexterity, the cast race between their characters, zip in and out of ample bosom-stamped dresses, writhe on the floor and weave between the audience. They literally go head over heels to entertain you.
It’s clear the stage is a playground for these performers and their unbridled energy is infectious, ensuring time flies in the best kind of way. The story itself is recounted almost like a ‘best bits’ episode, flitting from the on-point character introductions (think ‘unapologetic rich bitch Caroline Bingley’ and her brother Mr Bingley, ‘the human embodiment of a golden retriever’) to the all-important Regency balls, dripping in sexual tension, which are clearly a goldmine for rude innuendo and, of course, hilarious dance scenes. It’s not every day you see Elizabeth disco dancing or a demure Jane perfecting the funky chicken.
A personal favourite touch was the Cerberus-style Bennet sisters, a three-piece costume where a frantic actor had to switch between a sassy Lydia, high-pitched Kitty and a gloriously gothic Mary who endeared to my inner emo with her sullen mumbles. This hilarious aspect was played to great comedic effect by the part-time Darcy, who often, at the literal drop of a hat, had to sprint across the stage to recite the lines. From the devious smirks on the fellow cast members’ faces, and the sweat beading on his forehead, I’d say there was also a lot of improvisation at play here.
Special mentions must also go to a sensationally shrill Mrs Bennet-come-Lady Catherine De Bourgh, who was adept at leaning into wild gestures and perfecting the art of over-acting to inspire fits of laughter. As well as a flamboyantly lisping and lunging Mr Collins, who was, I have to say, even more excellent than boiled potatoes. Hell, all of them were great.
Chapter Three: Pop Culture, Party Games and a Wet T-Shirt Contest
As a regular re-watcher of the Keira Knightley film (what can I say, it’s a lovely brain-soothing Sunday watch), and just an avid viewer of TV in general, I savoured the abundance of pop culture nods. Not least the appearance of ‘Claudia Winkleman’, peering out through a wig that resembled the girl from The Ring slightly more than the heavy-fringed icon herself – not that I’m complaining, I knew at that point they don’t do things by halves. Including fringes.
You’re also part of the party. The informality, unpredictability and inclusive nature of the show is one of their strengths and I could have just been lucky, but my fellow audience members were on top form. Could it be the booze? Who’s to say.
Personally, the thought of being picked out of the crowd would make me want to wither up into a wizened atom and wink out of existence, for others (ahem musical theatre kids) it’s their time to shine. This was the case for a couple of scene-stealing attendees. One of which, chosen for a proposal gag, was definitely not shy of the spotlight and was responsible for one of the biggest shock-induced laughs of the night. Let’s just say Lady Catherine’s blood pressure would be sky rocketing. The others were a trio of water gun-wielding sharpshooters who had been enlisted for a very important task: the drenching of Mr Darcy. Oh, and a curiously bearded Georgiana, but we don’t really talk about Georgiana.
Final Chapter: The Summarisation of a Splendid Evening
One thing is for sure, if Lydia was here she’d be absolutely in her element. Plied and Prejudice eschews stuffy illusions of decorum and embraces the party-loving, gin-sloshing side of the Regency era – and extends the boozy invite to its audience.
If you have struggled in vain to get your loved one to even thumb the page of the much-loved novel then this could be their gateway to the world of Austen. Even if they never mention Austen again, at least they’ll understand your awkward Mr Collins’ impressions, random Regency-era quotes and penchant for flimsy white shirts.
All in all, it appears the Aussie production brought the sunshine with them, as Plied and Prejudice injects a very welcome dose of frivolity and fun into a grey London evening. I’ll drink to that.
