Nigel Hawthorne abounds in urbane charm. Whether on TV as Sir Humphrey in Yes (Prime) Minister or as Alan Bennett's George III (The Madness of) onstage, he is a constantly generous pillar of charm and civllised old-world values. Now, in the 1766 comedy The Clandestine Marriage, he has returned to the West End, not merely as actor, but also, for the first time, as director; and urbanity and charm are in good supply.
    It is not, on this occasion, a charm that runs deep. Indeed, his own performance, as the rheumatic old ninny Lord Ogleby, coasts by on charm, when other directors might have challenged him to give a more verbally audacious performance. Made up to look like an invalid toad in britches, pasty-faced with black-ringed eyes, he has given himself some splendid physical comic business. When he thinks the pretty young heroine is confessing her love for him, he adorably (a) looks startled (b) cannot resist a smirk (c) starts to swagger (d) waves his stick round in the air. Lovely stuff. But there are too many cute facial appeals to the audience.
    The Clandestine Marriage is good Christmas fare, for its tale is Cinderella with a twist. Fanny Sterling is the only source of real grace and beauty in her family. Her elder sister and her aunt (Mrs Heidelberg) are ridiculous termagants; her father is a self-made man who is ruled by financial considerations; and all of them undervalue her. Fanny, however, as the title tells you, is already married in secret - to penniless Lovewell. Alas, her sister's fianc� Sir John Melvill defects to her cause; and then Lord Ogleby also becomes her suitor; and confusions escalate.
    It. takes time, but the play's comedy slowly rises � so much so that the funniest line of all occurs right at the end. This is from Mrs Heidelberg: who announces, when Fanny's marriage is discovered, "She's ruined! �. and I forgive her." Yet this line would not be funny were it not for Susan Engel, who gives a marvellous performance with, above all, the. imagination that are so vital to period comedy of this kind.. The role has numerous mispronunciations and malapropisms, but Engel makes sure that the main joke is not these but herself: a bizarre booming contralto . from the Low Countries in a towering Gainsborough wig. The way she uses her fan is exemplary � never opened, but wielded. like a stiletto.
    That such a performance can flower here is credit to Hawthorne; so is the very acute playing in small roles. (From the moment William.Oxborrow takes snuff, as Trueman, he announces himself as a beautifully inventive comic actor.) And yet, Deborah Findlay whose sheer attack is so weklcome as the elder Miss Sterling, is allowed to give a truly stupid performance, forever shaking her red curls in the hope of a laugh, jumping between three or more accents and gesticulating busily from the elbows out. Simon Chandler, as a posey Melvill, keeps his hands, often frozen in the air, around shoulder-level. Ellzabeth Chadwick and Jonathan Cullen, as the clandestine lovers, stress the nervous tension of their roles at the expense of convincing us of their tenderness.
    But Christopher Benjamin does good work as nouveau riche Mr Sterling; and Timothy O'Brien's sets and costumes are exemplary -. elegant and persuasive without ever drawing attention to themselves. Finally the play, and charm, and urbanity, carry the evening.