Stevie @ The Minerva Theatre, Chichester

Stevie Smith was an oddity, a moderately successful playwright and author for most of her life who, in later years shot to fame. A charming, quirky and idiosyncratic character whose humorous verses often hid a deep sadness. The same is true of Hugh Whitemore’s play. On the surface this is a frothy, jolly affair… but pay attention and it’s so much more.

Set in the living room of the house in Palmers Green where Stevie lived almost her entire life, the pla leaps backwards and forwards, centred around Stevie reminiscing with her aunt. Here we see the juxtaposition between the artist who wants her verse to be heard and the young girl trapped in a woman’s body, whose favourite place is at home with her family.

To play such a complex and unconventional woman I don’t think you could do better than Zoë Wanamaker and she more than ably fills Stevie’s shoes, that immediately recognisable purr revelling in the poetry and in the eccentricities of the character. On stage for almost the entire play, Wanamaker never tires and, when a septuagenarian audience member’s walking stick clatters down some steps with echoing crashes and bangs she takes it in her stride, a beaming Cheshire cat grin stretching across her face. Minutes later, as she exclaims “more sherry!” she glances in the direction of the stick bearer with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

Her aunt is the only true love in her life, an ever present companion and friend seemingly always ready to bring Stevie back to earth or just offer her a roast dinner and a slice of battenburg cake. Casing Lynda Baron was a superb move, her natural warmth filling the stage and her rapport with Wanamaker feels completely natural.

Chris Larkin completes the cast filling a number of roles in Stevie’s reminiscing as friends and lovers come and go. Director Christopher Morahan wisely choosing to have him linger about the fringes of the book-strewn set long after his introductory monologue to foreshadow his reappearances throughout.

This isn’t cutting edge theatre, nor is it racy or exciting. It is instead the sort of show Chichester seems to produce effortlessly: warm, endearing and utterly enjoyable.