Alistair McGowan and Charlotte Page: Cocktails With Coward

Alistair McGowan visibly has one eye on the audience as we filter in. He sits, newspaper in hand and wearing a three-piece suit, accompanied by a similarly sedentary Charlotte Page and a tuxedo'd pianist. This is his self-proclaimed “new direction” - a lugubrious 60 minutes of Noel Coward's songs, poems and witticisms as performed by the much-loved vocal gymnast and the talented Page.

We do not entirely escape the shadow of his mainstream persona. Will Self, Simon Cowell and Graham Norton are all parroted in his opening schtick, but this is the last we hear of such send-ups. The show is a potpourri of largely sung material, with McGowan taking a back seat to Page in this department. The songs cover well-trodden English preoccupations – the war, travel, trite stiff-upper-lip observations. Most of the laughs arise from titillation, and the sparse pathos comes from a peek through the curtains at a Revolutionary Road-vision of English married life.

Those curious as to McGowan's singing voice will leave unsatisfied. Aside from a bluesy show tune delivered with suitable gusto, his talents beyond impressions remain uncharted here. As a performer in this type of show, his tendency to stand with his long arms hanging limp while intoning Coward's finest, renders him an awkward figure alongside the hugely experienced Page. What remains is a mildly diverting hour of Coward's lesser-known songs and poems. Few can doubt McGowan's festival pedigree, but those wishing to witness the man at the height of his powers should save their ticket money for when he plays to his strengths.