Review: THE SEA, Starring Jennifer Saunders

In imperious Ab Fab Eddie mode, Jennifer Saunders spiritedly dives into Edward Bond's entertaining but somewhat baffling comedy The Sea at Theatre Royal Bath. She's absolutely fabulous as the grandiose Mrs Rafi, an imposing Edwardian matriarch who rules the roost in a small East Anglian coastal town.

It's a fantastic role for an actress, particularly one of an, ahem, certain age. Coral Browne was the first to play it in the original Royal Court production back in 1973, followed by Judi Dench and Eileen Atkins. That's big Edwardian heeled lace-up boots to fill, but Saunders pulls it off in a way reminiscent of Lady Bracknell or Mrs Malaprop.

Director Jonathan Munby gets the best out Saunders and the rest his superb ensemble cast where even actors with only one or two lines shine. With Bond's script veering from the comic to absurdist to darkly philosophical, it's puzzling at times but ultimately well worth the trip to the seaside.

The plot revolves around local Colin Bentham going missing in a storm that's conveyed beautifully by Luke Hall's impressive video design of crashing waves and lighting designer Richard Howell's misty moon-lit sky. Bentham's friend Willy Carson (Sean Delaney) was with him when their boat capsized and Carson's trying to find him.

Lunatic draper Mr Hatch (a fantastic, heated performance from Dominic Rowan) believes aliens are trying to invade and mistakes Carson as one of them. Hatch is remiss in his coast-guarding duties the night of Bentham's disappearance and tells his gullible followers, including excellent Daniel Rainford as the village simpleton: "They'll take our jobs and our homes. Everything. We'll be slaves working all our lives to make goods for sale on other planets." This could be viewed as quite bizarre until we remind ourselves of all the crazy conspiracies and far-right anti-immigrant rhetoric on social media today.

Mrs Rafi befriends Carson, as Bentham was engaged to her niece Rose (Holly Godliman). That is when Rafi's not carrying out her main occupation bullying the townsfolk, from her woebegone companion Jessica Tilehouse (brilliantly portrayed by Lucy Briers) to the frenzied Hatch, who's tortured by her demands and constant returning of fabrics she doesn't deem superior enough. She tests out expensive gloves from his shop by slamming her hands on the counter and then carelessly ripping them at the seams. "I'm an emphatic woman and I must have gloves that accommodate themselves to my character."

She also intimidates members of the ladies auxiliary during the rehearsal of a truly terrible amateur dramatic version of Greek myth Orpheus and Eurydice in one of the play's most hilarious scenes. Nia Gwynne's Mafanwy Price sportingly imitates her dog Roger in her role as Cerberus the watch dog of hell. A put-upon Mrs Tilehouse, who's desperate for a speaking part, has to make the best of selling programmes, assisting the stage carpenter and producing sound effects. Rafi insists on including her rendition of the inappropriate "There's No Place Like Home".  "The town expects it of me," says Rafi, "it will be one of the highlights of the evening."

It's hard to pin down what Bond's work is all about. Keep in mind this is a writer who takes risks. He refused to cut the scene of a baby being stoned in his play Saved, and featured a lesbian relationship between Queen Victoria and Florence Nightingale in his 1968 surrealist dark comedy Early Morning.

In the programme notes for this production that could be downright weird but is quite evocative and compelling in Munby's hands, Bond says The Sea "ended a series of plays that asked questions about society". Another theme that emerges explores what life's all about. It's conveyed by scruffy Evens (a first-class Lloyd Hutchinson), who's partial to the odd swig of whiskey and lives quietly in a beach-side shed. He tells Carson: "You won't find any answers here. Go away and find them. Don't give up hope. The truth's waiting for you, it's very patient, and you'll find it."

The Sea runs at Theatre Royal Bath until 7 November