Money may not buy happiness, but the Shaw Festival’s riotous production of Tons of Money proves that it can purchase two hours of pure, unrestrained hilarity. This 1922 farce, penned by Will Evans and Valentine (the pen name of Archibald Thomas Pechey), finds new life under Eda Holmes’s explosive direction in the cozy Royal George Theatre, where it runs through October 5, 2025.
The premise is simple, yet ripe for comedic chaos: a perpetually broke inventor, Aubrey Allington (Mike Nadajewski) and his wife Louise (Julia Course) discover that he has inherited a fortune. The problem is that their crushing debts mean that his creditors will claim every penny. Their solution? He will fake his death and resurface as his cousin George Maitland from Mexico, to whom the inheritance would revert upon Aubrey’s death. The scheme spirals into an increasingly preposterous series of impersonations and misunderstandings, highlighted by a second faked death and continuous physical comedy that would make Charlie Chaplin proud.
From the moment that Nadajewski bursts onto the stage as Aubrey, the energy meter jumps to ten … and begins steadily climbing. His wild-eyed words, actions and emotions are almost too big, fast and funny at first, but the plot hijinks catch up — and so he pushes further, leaning with remarkable physicality into the silliness of his multiple roles (the best is a hilarious turn masquerading as a befuddled reverend with a suspicious accent). There’s pretty much nothing he won’t do for the bit: whether it requires executing somersaults over furniture, doing a non-sequitur 90-degree look-in from stage right … or appearing in a unique condition and location to howls of audience laughter as the intermission curtain dropped.
Matching Nadajewski’s manic energy step for step is Course, who brings both sophistication and slapstick prowess to the role of Louise Allington, Aubrey’s conspiratorial wife and the brains of the operation. The rest of the supporting cast proves equally adept at mining comedy gold. Nehassaiu deGannes’ Miss Benita Mullett executes the groan-worthy running gag of her hearing impairment with aplomb, while Andre Morin’s Henery and Sepehr Reybod’s George Maitland perform their very different roles in the identity shenanigans with a common commitment to timing and precision. Qasim Khan, almost unrecognizable as the straight-laced lawyer driving forward much of the inheritance plot, maintains his composure admirably despite what appears to be Nadajewski’s periodic efforts to crack his professional façade. And Lindsay Wu’s Jean Everard chooses to go right over the top – probably the only choice in a role in which requires her to be unable to distinguish George from his various impersonators.
At the edges, the Allington estate staff provide special colour. As Giles the gardener, Ron Kennell’s physical comedy walks the perfect line between suggestive and innocent. And adding an extra layer of delight for Shaw Festival regulars, the production features a subplot involving the butler Sproules and maid Simpson — played by Shaw stalwarts Graeme Somerville and Marla McLean, who also star in the current season’s Dear Liar. For audience members who have enjoyed that production at the Spiegeltent, the two staff members’ perpetually interrupted attempts at romance form a winking parallel to the unconsummated relationship of George Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell that the actors portray in that other production.
Holmes’s direction keeps the action moving at a breakneck pace that entertains and surprises, but never feels rushed. The physical comedy is precisely choreographed yet appears spontaneous — even outright anarchic. And Judith Bowden’s classic set design, featuring large doors and windows at the back, a smaller door at left and a cleverly concealed secret chamber, facilitates the kind of split-second timing and surprise entrances that good farce demands. Holmes makes smart use of every inch of that space — with characters ping-ponging around the stage in increasingly elaborate patterns of near-misses and close calls, including a side-splitting mirroring sequence where with fantastic coordination, two characters shadow each other’s movements and expressions while circumnavigating the set.
Though Tons of Money treads familiar farcical ground, it does so with such infectious enthusiasm and polished skill that resistance is futile. The production achieves exactly what great farce should: it unleashes talented performers who commit fully to making us laugh. And in this, it proves as rich as its title suggests by delivering tons of funny, served up with enough energy to power a small city.
Tons of Money runs at the Shaw Festival’s Royal George Theatre through October 5, 2025. Tickets are available on shawfest.com.
© Scott Sneddon, Sesaya Arts Magazine 2025
