The combination of Sheila Hancock, Anna Chancellor and Angela Thorne on stage together is a tempting prospect, and it reaps rewards in this new play by Nicholas Wright.
Though ostensibly about Wallis Simpson, the American divorcee for whom King Edward VIII gave up the British throne, The Last Of The Duchess is really a portrait of two formidable women who locked horns over their interest in Simpson, the Duchess of Windsor.
Simpson herself is only depicted briefly in the play, in an opening sequence in which Sunday Times journalist Lady Caroline Blackwood (Chancellor), having arrived at the Duchess’s Parisian home on the Bois de Boulogne, daydreams about her forthcoming interview with the infamous American. In fact, she never does meet the Duchess; instead she comes up against her lawyer, Maitre Suzanne Blum (Hancock), who offers Blackwood a stream of sycophantic reminiscences about her reclusive client rather than the revelations the journalist desires. So an increasingly desperate Blackwood decides to profile Blum instead, appealing to the lawyer’s ego by inviting Lord Snowdon to photograph her.
As the play progresses, the flaws and foibles of these two forceful women seep out. While Blackwood sees Blum as an ogreish gatekeeper, exploiting the frailty of her elderly client, the proud Blum depicts herself as a loyal servant, defending the reverential Duchess against the gossip, hatred and disrespect of the salacious world. Of course, no one can know which of these points of view is closer to the truth, and with the Duchess remaining an unseen, mysterious figure throughout the play, the sense of myth and intrigue only grows stronger.
In fact, what begins as a comic drama deepens into something of a thriller, as Wright exposes the personal demons and egos of these two bullish women, suggesting the lengths each may go to in order to prove the other wrong.
In the hands of Hancock and Chancellor, Wright’s cuttingly comic dialogue is delivered with delicious panache. “The royal family has been very gracious”, says Blum of the Duchess’s treatment by Britain, “they send Christmas cards.”
Blackwood’s drink-fuelled instability is hilariously played by Chancellor, helped by her interactions with Angela Thorne’s wonderfully tart Diana Mosley, who has recently written her own biography of the Duchess. John Heffernan as Blum’s legal protégé provides a much-needed sounding board for the opinions of both Blum and Blackwood, becoming stuck in the middle as their battle of wills reaches breaking point.
Though based on Blackwood’s book, which Wright tells us was a posthumous revenge on Blum, his play is inevitably restricted by the biased opinions of both women and the conjecture surrounding the Duchess herself. But while it cannot shed new light, it is nevertheless a rewarding fictional account of what might have happened during those last months in the Duchess’s life, and an opportunity to see an acting masterclass from some of Britain’s finest actresses.
CB