Liverpool Playhouse – until 17th October 2026
Reviewed by Jennifer Daley
5*****
Of all Jane Austen’s messages, themes and persuasions, the importance of eating your greens, or your bum falling off, is certainly one of the more memorable takeaways. I’m not sure it made it into the original novel, but thanks to Director Isobel McArthur, it’s certainly going to stay with me.
If you want to sit in front of a stage wondering just how many levels of crazy a production can reach, then Pride & Prejudice* (*Sort Of) is the show for you. Beautifully bonkers, gloriously irreverent and utterly hilarious, this is Austen with the volume turned up to eleven.
Five female actors own every inch of the stage with all the grace of a bull in a China shop, and I mean that as the highest possible compliment. The uncouth language is gloriously filthy, outrageously funny and utterly on point and a delivered like a Northern Express train pulling into Downton Abbey. Nothing is sacred, everything is fair game, and the comedy comes thick and fast.
The acting is superb, and the vocals are outstanding. The singing is delivered with such confidence, power and comic precision that it becomes one of the production’s many unexpected delights. Watching five women transform themselves into an entire cast of characters, with costume changes that deserve a standing ovation of their own, is a sight to behold. Particular praise must go to Julia Murray, whose performance as both Mr Darcy and Mrs Bennet is nothing short of exceptional. The versatility required to bring two such wildly different characters to life, often within moments of each other, is extraordinary. She delivers Darcy with all the brooding intensity audiences hope for, while her Mrs Bennet is a masterclass in comic chaos. If Mrs Hannigan is not already on her list of character performances, then it absolutely should be.
The costumes are as colourful as Quality Street, the energy is relentless, and the seamless transformations are a credit to Costume supervisor Morag Pirrie and Wardrobe Master Rod Bicknell. The sheer pace and precision required to pull this off are extraordinary.
And then there is Mr Bennett. His presence behind the chesterfield is ironically beautiful. The only male character not played by a woman, he is rendered almost entirely irrelevant to the Bennett household: there is no actor at all, just a newspaper stuck to a chesterfield. Bravo to that chesterfield. It gives a performance of remarkable stillness, commitment and understated comic timing.
And this production has absolutely everything: humour, dancing, singing, shiny disco balls and, surprisingly, some genuinely heartfelt emotion. Amid all the glorious nonsense, lovers align, hearts are won and Darcy eventually gets his bride. Although, let’s be honest, Elizabeth would propose to him, because she is the girl boss!
If you arrive expecting a traditional Austen masterpiece, prepare for a surprise. But beneath the outrageous comedy, there are plenty of affectionate nods to the original.
And if you’ve never read the novel or watched the film, I can absolutely promise you that there were no birds sponsored by Vileda, no Pringles and certainly no Chris de Burgh in the original. At least, not in the editions I’ve read.
You may leave questioning everything you thought you knew about Jane Austen, your relationship with vegetables and whether you’ll ever look at a Quality Street tin in quite the same way again.
To quote Mrs Bennett, not only would Baby Jesus be turning in his grave, but I’ve no doubt Jane Austen herself might have had a little shuffle, too.
But she’d probably have laughed. And so will you.