Jennifer Saunders Turns Curtain Shopping into High Drama in The Sea

By Daniel Okafor

Jennifer Saunders is fussing over curtain material at the Theatre Royal Bath, and Edward Bond's The Sea is all the better for it. Jonathan Munby's production marks the first major revival of the play in almost 20 years, and it arrives with Saunders delivering what the Guardian's review calls her "avaricious, egotistical Mrs Rafi" — a performance built on tight-lipped pomposity that lifts Bond's study of consumerism to, as the review's headline puts it, Shakespearean levels.

What opens the show?

Munby starts underwater. Audiences see what would ordinarily be obscured: the seafaring Colin, played by Elliot Goodhill, hangs suspended from a rope, fighting for his life as waves from Luke Halls' videography engulf him. It is an impressive piece of screen design, and the Guardian's critic finds it a fitting opening for a play that demands its audience look beneath the surface to find meaning in seemingly trivial interactions.

The jolt comes next. We are flung into a draper's shop, where Saunders' Mrs Rafi is agonising over curtains. The tonal whiplash is deliberate. Bond, the late playwright, described his own intentions for the work plainly: he wanted The Sea to deal with tragedy, be a comedy and end with people being as honest and open as they could. That's a three-point brief most writers wouldn't risk. Bond built a career on the attempt.

What is the play actually about?

Consumerism, in Bond's view, was a distraction from the pain and absurdity of life. The Guardian review picks up the pattern with precision. His characters sing their hymns ever louder when there's gunfire in the distance. They stage an annual play to raise money for their seaside village's coastguards while maintaining careful distance from any trouble their beneficiaries actually face.

That is the engine of the satire: generosity performed, hardship avoided. Saunders' Mrs Rafi embodies it, fussing over fabric while the world outside the shop window holds genuine danger. It's the politics of the curtain counter.

The verdict from Bath is largely favourable. The review praises the production as hugely enlivened by Saunders and her tightly wound pomposity, crediting her presence with sharpening a text about the strength of humans in dark times. A revival two decades in the waiting carries risk; this one, on the evidence of the notice, has found its anchor in its lead.

For audiences weighing a trip to Bath, the promise is a rare thing: a major Bond revival with a comic actor of Saunders' calibre at its centre, staged in a season that treats consumerism and catastrophe as uneasy neighbours.