Three Men in a Boat: Wistful, evocative, and packed with eccentric English humour

A trip to the Mill at Sonning – the picturesque Thameside theatre in rural Berkshire, where dinner is included as part of the theatre ticket – is always something of an escape. So it feels appropriate to launch the summer season with a charming new production of Jerome K. Jerome’s escapist comic classic. There is something rather exciting, too, in the fact that the very river along which the three men travel actually flows beneath the converted watermill theatre, and Sonning itself appears in the novel, described as “the most fairy-like little nook on the whole river”.

This is a story that lulls along, with no force pushing the plot onwards except the gentle rowing of the boat. Beyond some gentle mocking of French and German food, and a comic set piece involving the boat cover that just about hints at innuendo, there is nothing here that could be considered risqué. There is a risk that adapting such an emphatically sun-kissed vision of pre-war England could descend into stuffiness. But the jokes in Clive Francis’s adaptation have just enough of a pull to the absurd for there to be a lively sense of the unexpected, while superb comic acting from the three leads keeps the story exceptionally sparky.

Each actor embodies a slightly camp gentleman archetype, who collectively capture something of the essence of idle upper classes. George Watkins makes a wonderfully fruity Jerome, with a twinkly smile fixed to his face, and a touch of Kenneth Williams about him. James Bradshaw, meanwhile, presents a gentler and slightly nasal figure in George, while Sean Rigby has something of Brian Blessed about him in his portrayal of Harris: a large, jocular figure with ruddy features, and a love of singing music hall classics (which older members of the audience will likely sing along to).

The problem of how to represent the fourth traveller, fox terrier Montmorency, is solved by simply having the three actors mime his presence. It has the happy effect of adding a new comic dimension to the canine companion, as opposed to distracting us with a puppet.

Pains are taken to capture the multi-faceted spirit of the novel, with narrative modes from sentimental travelogue to slapstick farce all featured. It is, though, the comic passages of the novel that have ensured its continued celebration, as the regular peels of laughter rippling across the auditorium will testify. Some of them, such as the famous anecdote of the stuffed trout, lose some of their impact when translated to the stage, but others, such as George’s tale of bringing two particularly smelly cheeses back from Liverpool, remain genuinely hilarious.

Sean Cavanagh’s set transforms from an elegant if cluttered London apartment to a picturesque riverside scene, complete with a sweet wooden rowing boat for the three leads to hop in. Natalie Tichener’s costumes include old-fashioned straw hats, and three wonderfully garish striped jackets that help capture a sense of the pre-World War One bliss.

While fun and colourful, these sentimental designs also remind us that this is a world that no longer exists. And while ugliness and discomfort are feelings totally avoided in this production, there is also subtle sadness that builds in the background: that this might be a story of total familiarity, but it is taking place in a country that has been completely lost to time. A snapshot of the warmest of friendships, just ahead of the modern era dawning.

At the Mill at Sonning until 13 July; 0118 969 8000; millatsonning.savoysystems.co.uk