'Fallen Angels' Broadway Review: Rose Byrne & Kelli O'Hara Uncork a Classic

By Matthew Wexler

“I think it’s awfully silly of people to lead unhappy lives,” says British aristocrat Fred Sterroll (Aasif Mandvi) to his wife Julia (Kelli O’Hara) before dashing off for a golf trip. Little does he know his spouse took that advice to heart with a pre-marital fling—as did her bestie, Jane (Rose Byrne). In Noël Coward’s controversial 1925 comedy Fallen Angels, the longtime friends await a visit from their mutual lover from long ago.

Fallen Angels’ original London production barely passed the Lord Chamberlain’s required approval (who, under the British monarchy, had the power to censor theatrical productions). Still, the Lord Chamberlain let it slide due to the play’s “light and unreal and humorous” treatment of its subject matter.

At an intermissionless 90 minutes, Roundabout Theatre Company’s revival stays mostly true to that assessment, though it takes a bottle of champagne for the play to really kick into gear.

Once the husbands leave, the party starts

Fallen Angels—by modern standards—feels frivolous in its dramatic tension: two women sleep with the same man before getting married. But it’s their mischievous machinations that give the play a bit of bite.

Byrne and O’Hara make fine sparring partners. Bantering about in gorgeous evening gowns by Jeff Mahshie on a stupendous, soaring London flat by set designer David Rockwell, the production feels more luxe than its home in the newly renovated Todd Haimes Theatre, which evokes an off-Strip Vegas ballroom. But back to the play.

Rose Byrne and Kelli O'Hara in "Fallen Angels." — Rose Byrne and Kelli O’Hara in “Fallen Angels.” Photo by Joan Marcus.

Director Scott Ellis is slow to rev the engines, but once the hubbies depart and the women are left to dine and drink (with the assistance of Julia’s housekeeper, a scene-stealing Tracee Chimo), Fallen Angels kicks into high gear.

Byrne and O’Hara prove themselves brilliant physical comedians, whether sliding down stairs, falling over chairs, or guzzling champagne. When Mark Consuelos finally arrives as the highly anticipated French lover Maurice Duclos, the splash of celebrity feels wholly unnecessary (despite him living up to the women’s description: “Those eyes … those hands … and teeth … and legs!”)

No matter how handsome, charismatic, or fakey French, this is Byrne and O’Hara’s feast to host. “Pals above honor,” they proclaim to one another. In that regard, these angels take flight.