A wet Edinburgh evening might have dampened spirits outside, but inside the Playhouse, Fawlty Towers was in full flight. Rain rattled on windows while umbrellas were folded, coats shook dry, and the audience prepared for chaos inside the hotel. Paul Nicholas was slated to play the Major but pulled out at the last moment. Although it was a disappointment, it had little impact on the enjoyment of the evening.

Adapted for the stage by John Cleese and based on the original 1970s television series, which he co-wrote with his then-wife, Connie Booth, who also played Polly, the production draws on some of its most beloved episodes. The humour thrives on a particular British snobbery. Basil is petty, socially aspirational and slightly pompous, forever measuring his world against impossible standards, and the production plays that up without exaggeration.

Danny Bayne’s Basil is brisk, unsentimental and perpetually on edge. Much of the humour derives from his palpable fear of Sybil, the dread of her disapproval shaping every furtive glance, hurried movement and whispered excuse. A comic highlight sees him secretly placing a bet on a horse called Dragonfly, only to teeter on the brink of discovery. The Moose scene is another standout, where Basil’s escalating panic, Manuel’s frantic assistance and Polly’s calm efficiency collide in absurdist farce. The moment relies on timing, physicality and sheer improbability, reminding the audience why Fawlty Towers’ humour remains so enduring.

Mia Austin’s Sybil matches Basil stride for stride. She does not attempt to imitate Prunella Scales, who made the role iconic in the original series and died last year, but brings authority, sharp timing and deadpan delivery. Joanne Clifton’s Polly is quietly efficient, the calm centre of the hotel’s storm, while Hemi Yeroham’s Manuel contributes relentless physical comedy, his hesitations, sudden dashes and misjudged entrances keeping the stage in near-constant motion. Jemma Churchill’s Mrs Richards is impeccably proper, her very rectitude a source of comic friction.

The production delights in eccentricity while never missing the brittle certainties of conservative British types. The humour is classic British, dry, knowing and often uncomfortable, leaning on timing, understatement and awkward social collisions. The Major, wandering through with a gun, leans into slapstick without losing dignity, while the German guests and the repeated injunction not to mention the war provide reliable comedic engines. Farce is structural rather than decorative. It is fast-paced, with doors, corridors and bodies carrying as much of the joke as dialogue. Even the background signs, from announcements to instructions to guest names, shift subtly in time with the action, reinforcing the hotel’s chaos and Basil’s perpetual anxiety.

What endures is the combination of precise timing and physicality. Basil’s long, angular frame, Manuel’s frantic scrambling, Polly’s composure and Sybil’s authority all provide tension that escalates into comedy. Fawlty Towers may belong to another era, but here, tonight, in Edinburgh, it remains a masterclass in timing, physicality and the enduring absurdity of life on these islands. Even without Nicholas on stage, the hotel stays open, the staff muddle through, and the guests leave smiling.

Reviewed by Richard Purden

Four Stars.

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