Chauntecleer and Pertelotte at the Burton Taylor Studio, Oxford Playhouse, review by Jon Lewis.
28 – 29 September
Chicken Sauce
It was Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales in the 1390s that introduced the beast fable of Chantecleer and Pertelotte in the Nun’s Priest Tale to a wider public. Dougie Blaxland’s version, written nearly 20 years ago, has been revived by James Coutsavlis and Izzy Mckenty and produced by Live Wire Theatre which over the last couple of years brought Our Little Hour and Jane Eyre: The Autobiography to the Burton Taylor Studio.
Coutsavlis and McKenty, who direct and design the show, play multiple characters in the story, most of whom are inventions by Blaxland rather than Chaucer. The original tale is framed with a prologue and epilogue; here, the framing device includes two chefs giving their audience a recipe for roasting a chicken with stuffing – the likely fate for either Chantecleer or Pertelotte.
The dialogue is fast-paced and delivered in a mock Middle English style. It is also very crude, funny and not suitable for quoting in a family newspaper. It has the authentic feel of Chaucer, whose own lines are often saucy. The cleverness of the delivery keeps the audience alert so that meanings are not lost in the flow.
Chauntecleer (Coutsavlis, who is suitably tall) is a proud cock of the roost, boasting of his prodigious private parts which he puts to good effect within the chicken run. Pertelotte (McKenty, curvaceous with a cleavage like a farmyard Carry On Barbara Windsor) in the beginning of the play is a virginal chick dreaming of her first time.
Soon she’s a randy, sex-obsessed creature not satisfied with the unfaithful Chauntecleer. It’s hilarious as McKenty waddles across the stage as Pertelotte, whilst Coutsavlis’ Chauntecleer thrusts his hips back and forward in anticipation of fun in the hay bales on the stage.
There’s a parallel story to the chickens: the farmer’s wife Nell (McKenty) is another lusty character, married to the ugliest husband in the district (Coutsavlis, wearing giant ears who prefers his ferret to his wife). As the story turns to one of feminine revenge, there’s also time for some mild satire of the Church and its Pope.
A ribald, fun hour.



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