How different were sensibilities in seventeenth century England (at least after the Restoration) to contemporary mores?  Perhaps less than one might think.  Unless you are a woman.  And you want to be famous.  And you aren’t a queen.  All of which presents a problem for young Margaret who leaves her dull, impoverished, gentry family to try her luck at court just as Cromwell and co finally get around to giving Charles I a rather drastic haircut.

In Rose Napoli’s Mad Madge; currently playing in a Nightwood Theatre in association with VideoCabaret production at the The Theatre Centre, we aren’t subjected (as so often) to a play with contemporary values stuck in costumes the playwright finds interesting.  We get an extremely violent collision between then and now and, as tends to happen in certain kinds of violent collision, bits fly off in all directions and, if we are lucky (and I think we are here) we learn new things about the world and ourselves.

Now that all sounds terribly serious and sober but this play is anything but.  It’s a madcap, cross-dressing romp with lots of sex, not a little shit and a member of the Royal Society pissing himself.  If you expect elegant restraint or demure language you are going to be disappointed.

Rose Napoli plays Margaret and it’s a tour de force that anchors the whole show.  She goes from being Queen Henrietta’s shit bucket girl, to confidante, to experimental novelist; but even inventing the genre of science fiction isn’t enough to get a girl noticed in the 17th century.  Sadly the only way to do that is to flash your tits at the theatre.  That leads to “celebrity” and appearances on the seventeenth century equivalent of day time television but not, alas, to membership of the Royal Society or the respect of Samuel Pepys; all purpose arbiter of intellectual worth.  Seven books later she realises she’s not going to win this one and finally marries the really rather nice William Cavendish; soldier, playwright, courtier and Duke of Newcastle, who has been after her all along.  Shit bucket girl to Duchess of Newcastle isn’t so bad.

Surrounding Napoli is a very talented and versatile cast; most of them playing multiple roles.  Nancy Palk is rather excellent as an oversexed and cynical Queen Henrietta Maria.  Somewhat obsessed with bowel movements and oral sex she is nonetheless a mistress of how to survive in a man’s world.  She also doubles up as Margaret’s old maid sister Pye. and a deeply unpleasant Samuel Pepys.  Karl Ang is quietly effective as William Cavendish; arguably the only really likeable character, who, talented as he is, is regularly and resignedly upstaged by Margaret’s antics.

Wayne Burns-Thomas and Izad Etemadi form the duo of ladies in waiting; Trudy and Judy, perfectly encapsulated as bitchy high school girls who resent the rise of the more talented (and sharper elbowed) Margaret.  The former doubles up as Margaret’s gay bastard brother and confidante and the latter as her hideously ambitious mother.  Burns-Thomas also gets a cameo as the pissing polymath (Mad Madge is big on alliteration) Robert Hooke.  Farhang Ghajar’s main role is as the obsequious servant Dycker who becomes the Queen’s sex toy.  He’s very funny.  He might be even better as Brothel Bob the “daytime TV” host.  He shows additional versatility as Margaret’s uptight scientist brother John.

There are so many disparate elements here that it’s a small miracle that director Andrea Donaldson shapes into a coherent whole but she does.  It never drags.  It almost seems to make sense.  And it is very funny.  Astrid Janson, Abby Esteireiro and Merle Harley’s designs (set, props and costumes) are efficient and fun without trying too desperately to be authentic and the lighting (Rebecca Vandevelde) and the doomy sound design by Olivia Wheeler (a bit like a 1980s Shakespeare film) are effective.

Rose Napoli’s play is terrific fun and a surprisingly thought provoking way to spend a couple of hours.  Mad Madge runs at the Theatre Centre until April 21st.

Photo credits: Dahlia Katz