In a bohemian English country house, the eccentric, hyper-dramatic Bliss family each secretly invites a weekend guest, subjecting their bewildered visitors to an insufferable gauntlet of theatrical melodramatics and self-absorbed mind games.

I really want to call this twinsies with the recent Fallen Angels on Broadway. I think that was arguably a stronger production: a worthwhile tightening of the text, more elaborate stage directions, and a prettier set. But I think Hay Fever is a better play which befits a gentler touch. Both productions feel like glossy but effective ways to get to know the works of Noël Coward, and I really liked them!

Hay Fever’s really funny. The Bliss parents are a commercially successful novelist and actress, artistic solipsists cranked up to 11. They’ve raised a couple of kids who share the bohemian temperament but not the talent: one a terrible sketch artist while the other has no apparent craft of her own. Collectively, they have no manners; they’re nice to people only when they want something from them, even if it’s only having fun at their expense. Hijinks ensue when all four Blisses independently invite guests to stay for the weekend.

Including the overworked servant, Clara, makes for an ensemble cast of 9. Christine Baranski gets the meatiest role, the matriarch, Judith. She’s backed by Richard E. Grant, a deep group of Olivier winners and noms, plus known Sarah favorite Ophelia Lovibond.

Can we get a nice revival of Private Lives next, please?