Les Liaisons Dangereuses
National Theatre, London
★★★★☆
 

LES LIASONS DANGEREUSES feels like a no-brainer for the National Theatre. It has a history of huge success as a play, as a film and in several spin-off versions; it offers all the design potential of a vivid costume drama; it emanates from an esteemed work of literature; it has a clear — if convoluted — story line, and offers showcase roles for established stars. Oh, and it’s about the kind of sexual shenanigans that wouldn’t be out of place in a Jeffrey Epstein establishment.

That it’s already a sold-out run, then, is no surprise.
 
The original epistolary novel of 1782 by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, on which the play is based, sets out to expose the virulent rot at the heart of the idle rich in 18th century France. It was this rot that galvanised the masses and helped trigger the French Revolution. 

In Christopher Hampton’s esteemed stage version, debauchery may be the titillating backdrop, but the main story is of the mindless and exploitative games imposed on unsuspecting innocents by the overprivileged and underemployed aristocracy.

It’s a sumptuous production with all the hallmarks of thrilling director Marianne Elliott in full supply. But while the characters are luminous, the plot is so seedy it leaves a nasty taste.

Simply put, the story revolves around two leads: all-powerful diva and sexual dissolute the Marquise de Merteuil, and her former lover, the accomplished rake Vicomte de Valmont. For both, sex is a deadly weapon and a sport. Merteuil — as an act of vengeance against another former paramour — goads Valmont into seducing the virginal convent girl Cecile who is the paramour’s intended bride.

Valmont takes on the task, while also targeting Madame de Tourvel, the beautiful but faithful wife of an absent husband. Twists and turns proliferate but the central energy revolves around the calculated deflowering of virtuous young women.

Lesley Manville carries the central role of Merteuil with all the effortless ease you would expect of this top-class actor. From her first empowered entrance in the most glorious, bejewelled crimson gown, she emanates star quality, commanding attention not only through an array of extravagant and provocative outfits but through every blink of an eyelid and curl of a finger.

Aidan Turner performs the harder role of Valmont with equally glittering success, effortlessly endowing this hollow and despicable sleaze-ball with a natural charm and empathy you would think impossible in such a rake. 

Even as he effectively rapes Cecile, we are somehow shamefully on his side, driven by the thrill of the chase, and this is down to his own star quality which allows him to play a moral weakling while still amusing us and capturing our hearts.

Monica Barbaro makes a beautifully polished stage debut as Madame de Tourvel; Darragh Hand seems endearingly vulnerable as Danceny — another cog in this rolling tumbrel wheel — and Hannah van der Westhuysen transforms from awkward ingenue to well-corrupted queen of the boudoir scarily smoothly, as Cecile.

Visually the show’s a triumph with Rosanna Vize’s bordello-type set, Natalie Roar’s fabulous costumes and chorus upon chorus of dancers and extras strutting their stuff as if vanity were all that mattered in the world.

But it’s a dodgy piece for us in modern times, asserting women as sex objects and manipulators amid toxic masculinity and intransigent entitlement. And though it charts the major players’ downfall, it’s not the guillotine that triumphs in this production but relentless sleaze.

Great showmanship, but depressing.

Runs until June 6. Box office: (020) 3989-5455, nationaltheatre.org.uk.