Arriving at The Vaults for Plied & Prejudice, we were ushered into the Pemberley Pleasure Gardens – a delightfully low-budget cartoon of Regency grandeur. There were stretchy wall coverings printed with vines and fountains , pink tracksuits cleverly styled to pass as period wear (great work by Penny Challen with the gloriously kitsch set and costume design), and violinists playing Bridgerton-style covers of Beyoncé.

Above us, a chandelier made of a clothes rack and empty wine bags (or ‘goon bags’ – the Aussie term for boxed wine, minus the box – as our host Alexia proudly explained) swayed gently over a Regency-ish money-grabbing booth – just like in the history books – and an “Only Fans corner” – basically a chaise longue behind a screen, presumably for ankle-reveal scandal.

A few people got pulled up for the pre-show “best dressed” contest. My wife and I had made the effort – she looked stunning, I didn’t scrub up too badly – but we weren’t spotted by our host Zak in time. Still, a few glam attendees were chosen to compete and the winner was awarded a glass of prosecco. If you want to win, show off to the hosts early!

Drinks in hand, we took our seats – just in time for the cast to burst in to hilariously overblown entrance music (some of you will know it – Chantay, you stay!). One of them cheerfully instructed us to “make sure your phones are turned… ON” and scan the QR code to keep the drinks flowing. Yes, really – audience intoxication isn’t just encouraged, it’s basically the premise. And as a diligent reviewer, I took it upon myself to get increasingly sloshed for research purposes. You’re welcome.

The cast introduced themselves, and from the jump it was clear we were in for a wild one. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it highlight: Brigitte Freeme, as Lizzie Bennet, entering with a pout and a perfectly delivered “I look quite pretty” – a cheeky nod to Love Actually’s Keira Knightley, who of course went on to play Lizzie in the 2005 film. A deep-cut reference, and we loved it.

We meet the Bennet family, and straight away Mr and Mrs Bennet (Andrew Macmillan and Emma Andreatta) are stealing the show. They’re a brilliant double act – Mr B playing it straight while Mrs B goes full chaos. They are most amusing, mama (‘mammar’). I was quite beside myself.

All five cast members play multiple roles, and some of the funniest moments come when they have to switch characters mid-scene. There’s frantic costume swapping, with those printed tracksuit-style outfits making it all look slick and effortless – like quick-change comedy done on fast-forward. The three less important sisters – the “Peggys”, if you will – are portrayed with such silly genius that we were dying. Shoutout to Tim Walker for some truly outrageous character work.

Not every gag lands. Macmillan’s Mr Collins – a creepy, drooling half-wit – is pitch-perfect. But the endless insinuations that Mr Bingley is gay? Less so. Maybe it’s a personal thing – as a bi guy, I’m probably more sensitive to queerness being used as a punchline – but after the fifth or sixth ‘haha, he’s gay’ joke, it felt unimaginative, especially in a show this clever.

Monique Sallé, who plays Jane and others, doesn’t get many of the showy moments – no big solo or spotlight scene – but she deserves real credit. She’s essential to holding the whole thing together, throwing herself into every ridiculous setup, and giving the other performers the room to shine. It’s subtle work, but absolutely essential.

The MVP for me, though, is Brigitte Freeme as Lizzie. She nails the comedy throughout, but it’s the final scene that impressed me. When Lizzie and Darcy finally get together, she drops the absurdist energy entirely and plays the moment straight – even shedding real tears. It’s completely believable, and a testament to what a brilliant actor she is.

One note that can’t go unmentioned: the lack of diversity in the cast. This is the second Australian import I’ve reviewed in as many weeks where the cast is overwhelmingly white. Aside from Zak – one of the hosts, who is of Afghan descent – this is an all-white company. Maybe that passes in Brisbane, but in London, it doesn’t cut it. This isn’t about box-ticking. It’s about representation, visibility, and making sure the industry reflects the world it entertains. Audiences notice – and in London, they expect better.

After the show, there’s an after-party of sorts. At first, it’s a blast – the cast mingle, the money-grabbing booth kicks into action, and the vibe is fun and fizzy. It lasts around 45 minutes, but on the Saturday night we attended, the actors vanished, and at 9:50pm – staggeringly early, in my opinion – the bar announced last orders. Within minutes, the place had emptied.

If you’re expecting a Secret Cinema-style after-party with DJs and dancing into the night, manage your expectations. It’s still a good laugh – but more cheeky nightcap than wild afters.

Still, overall, the show is a hoot. Whether you’re a die-hard fan of Austen’s original or – like me – you’ve only got a vague memory of seeing one of the film versions years ago, you’re in for a properly fun night. And if you’re not a drinker, don’t worry – I spoke to one young woman who was her mum’s designated driver, and she said she had an absolute blast.

So grab your corset, fluff your wig (we did – but we’re immersive theatre fanatics; most of the audience didn’t dress up, so don’t feel you have to), and get yourself down to Plied & Prejudice before it wraps up on May 31st. You’ll laugh, you’ll cheer, and you’ll leave with a wobble in your step, wondering why all Regency dramas don’t come with a cocktail list.

Book your tickets at pliedandprejudice.com

Words by Nick Barr

Photos by Guy Bell