When We Are Married
Donmar Warehouse, London
⭑⭑⭑⭑☆

JB PRIESTLY wrote When We Are Married in the run-up to World War II, but set it in Edwardian times when he was in his teens and living in a suburb of Bradford. When the play premiered in 1938, he was already a celebrated writer of rock star status with many plays still to come, including An Inspector Calls.

Watching the play now is a shock to the system. Firstly, it’s an out-and-out three-act comedy of a type that rarely shows its face these days; secondly, it recalls a Britain we remember almost in our bones rather than our brains; lastly, it takes us firmly to a Yorkshire still thriving from the woollen industry with a populace obsessed with class, social mores and respectability.

It’s a blast from the past, but — more than that — the people come alive before our eyes as if they’ve never been away. And in a world where the news is all misery and personal relations deadened by the internet, it’s an unmitigated delight … especially in Tim Sheader’s flawless Donmar production.

From the moment the first character — Mrs Northropp played by a mischievous Janice Connolly — opens a door and enters the naturalistic drawing room, we are laughing and filled with enjoyment. Music hall and other traditional songs set the context and we’re off through a simple and ingenious storyline that lends itself to comedy.

It’s a simple premise. Three couples from the locality, who married on the same day, are getting together to celebrate their 25th anniversary with a glass of port and a game of Newmarket, a card game. The organist at their non-conformist chapel — whom they want sacked for courting local girls (and “la di da” talking) — reveals that the minister who originally married the couples didn’t have the correct licence; consequently they’re not married. One of the men in question is an alderman, one is a local councillor, and both are in thrall to their own self-importance and social standing. To find they’re living in sin throws all into comic mayhem.

The cast is led by the terrific Siobhan Finneran, of Happy Valley fame, who performs against type as local dignitary’s wife with dowager duchess aspirations. Sophie Thompson plays the wife of the joyless councillor with infectious glee, and Samantha Spiro charms as the hen-pecking wife. Of the men, the Alderman is played with comic arrogance by John Hodgkinson (fresh from Titus Andronicus), the irascible councillor is made flesh by Marc Wootton, and Jim Howick as the hen-pecked husband excels in subtle retaliatory moments.

There is also an upstaging comic turn from Ron Cook as a local press photographer, worse for wear from endless tippling. I’d go and see Ron Cook anywhere, anytime in anything, and this confirms that view.

This play demonstrates the glorious comedy of ordinary people living out their vivid ordinary lives. And Priestley knew these people inside out.

It’s a delightful evening, a first class production and a play which — though safe in its happy ending and lack of real jeopardy — holds a mirror to English life (class, marriage and the role of women) and earths us in the sheer joy of being human.

Nostalgic for the old and maybe tame for the young, When We Are Married is nevertheless engrossing, immersed in comedy and deeply real.

Runs until February 7. Box Office: 020 3282 3808, donmarwarehouse.com