Stephen Fry in The Importance of Being Earnest. Photo: Marc Brenner
I gave a lukewarm review to this production of The Importance of Being Earnest when it premiered at the National Theatre. Part of the reason was, I love this play and, even though I still enjoyed the witty dialogue and the ingenious story of identity and hidden truth, I felt the queer interpretation was laid on a bit thick. I accepted that the two main characters’ double lives could be taken as a metaphor for gay men’s secrecy in past times, but, to my mind, Max Webster‘s decision to foreground the subtext undermined the power of Wilde’s actual text. I now think my prejudice blinded me to the quality of what was in front if me
So I wanted to give it a second chance, and go in more prepared for this approach. And I wanted to compare Olly Alexander‘s Algernon and Stephen Fry’s Lady Bracknell with Ncuti Gatwa and Sharon D Clarke.
It’s not only the twostars, there’s a complete new cast. Each actor captured the distinctive cadence of Oscar Wilde’s prose, delivering lines with clarity. Putting my gratitude for that aside, I fully expected Alexander and Fry to lack the power of Gatwa‘s dazzle and Clarke’s swagger. And in a way I was right, neither has the charisma of the National’s original casting. However, their more restrained interpretations of Algie and Lady Bracknell create a more balanced production.
They make the parts their own, as judges on talent shows are apt to say. Olly Alexander delivers an exemplary performance, imbuing Algie with endearing boyish charm, while Stephen Fry relied on a quiet, clipped delivery (and to be fair his height) to exert his authority. This is not the pantomime dame I feared but rather a totally believable version of the snobbish, domineering representative of the aristocracy. Where the previous larger-then-life characterisations almost suffocated Wilde’s delicate plot construction, toning them down seems to allow it to breathe a little more.
The rest of the West End cast are as good if not better than their National Theatre counterparts. Outstanding are the two young women, Gwendolen and Cecily, played by Kitty Hawthorne and Jessica Whitehurst respectively, and the object of Jack and Algie’s affections. I still found their overt expressions of sexual frustration somewhat incongruous with the period context, but I went with it, and actually the tongue waggling and the attention they pay to their fiery loins is pretty funny. Come to think of it, their obsession with their husband being called Ernest is just as silly.
Another highlight is Hayley Carmichael playing the manservants Lane and Merriman. It’s hard not to laugh at Merriman’s every entrance, when this diminutive figure dressed in oversized wig and tailcoat moves with mechanical stiffness and an air of complete bewilderment.
Shobna Gulati and Hugh Dennis extract plenty of humour from the relationship between Miss Prism and Canon Chasuble. Their suppressed passions form a delightful counterpoint to the younger lovers’ unbridled emotions. Nathan Stewart-Jarrett is a fine, likeable Jack Worthing.
Olly Alexander and Hayley Carmichael in The Importance of Being Earnest. Photo: Marc Brenner
Far from going further in laying on thick this gay interpretation, the transferred production seems to have reined it in ever so slightly. I admit I was expecting, and therefore was less concerned about the opening where Algie is in a cocktail dress at a cross dressing party, or the men and women being sexually excited by their own as much as the opposite sex, or by the references to modern pop songs.
It may have avoided becoming the pantomime I feared but the production is still deliciously over the top. Rae Smith’s colourful costumes and lavish sets, complete with masses of blooming bushes and two naked male statues, create an exuberant atmosphere. And the curtain call does provide a panto-style walkdown, with the cast dressed in giant petals.
I would still prefer a version of The Importance of Being Earnest that allows the lines to speak for themselves, but I am very happy to concede that Wilde’s timeless comedy is big enough to take a joke, and this is a particularly good joke.
National’s new director turns ancient tragedy into modern comedy
Olivier stage at the National Theatre
⭑⭑⭑
Clare Perkins in Bacchae. Photo: Marc Brenner
I was excited at the prospect of Indhu Rubasingham‘s first production as the National Theatre’s Director. She is after all the first woman and first person of colour to run the country’s leading theatre, and she came up with another first- it was the first time an author’s debut play had been produced in the Olivier, the National’s largest auditorium. And what a start from Nima Taleghani. It was a very modern, feminist interpretation of the Euripides’ Bacchae in both the contemporary language he used and the way he placed the chorus at the centre of the action. It was as if Ms Rubasingham wanted to say: ‘from now on this is the people’s theatre.’ A good message, and show had all the makings of a triumphant start to her reign. It was certainly pacey and eye-catching, but I was left a little disappointed.
Bacchae opens as dramatically as you could wish, with a gigantic horsecovered in blood dominating the stage. In fact, Robert Jones‘ moving tiers of stage floors and eye-catching costumes- some Mad Max style, others simply dazzling- along with Oliver Fenwick‘s flashing, whirling lighting, are a continual spectacle. Indhu Rubasingham’s tight direction keeps the pace moving, despite the large number of chorus members that she needed to move.
Choruses are a constant in Ancient Greek drama but usually they are a homogenous group witnessing and commenting on events. Sometimes they have a role beyond that, as in Bacchae, when they are the group of women who worship the demi-god Dionysus. They follow him through his triumphs and troubles, and Euripides extends their role to more active participation in the action. Nima Taleghani has gone even further, making them the driving force in the events that take place on the Olivier stage, a group determined to bring down authoritarian regimes run by men oppressing women.
I don’t want to say too much about what happens in case you don’t know the twists of the story, but suffice to say there is considerable bloodshed and one terrible key moment involving a mistaken victim of a murder. It’s a great play that asks lots of questions about religious fanaticism and the way passion can override reason.
In this adaptation, the chorus are given individual personalities and even split into factions. One is led by Clare Perkins, who brings authority, reason and humour to the part of Vida, the other by a blood-soaked Sharon Small whose demonic eyes that suggest a career in horror films might beckon.
The dispute between King Pentheus and Dionysus is central to the play. The former has banned the latter’s religion and denied his divinity. In this version, the two characters are somewhat maginalised, although James McArdle‘s portrayal of the King as uncertain of his masculinity and Ukweli Roach‘s Dionysus, shown as an unworldy man more into love than war, provided an amusing contrast to the bloodthirsty women. Simon Startin was a dryly funny Tiresias, and so traditional in style that he seemed like a deliberate contrast to the radical changes all around.
Tragedy lost in comedy
Ukweli Roach in Bacchae. Photo: Marc Brenner
Ultimately, far from pondering on the madness of what has taken place at their instigation, the chorus latches onto the fact that Dionysus is, among his many responsibilities for promoting pleasure, the god of theatre. And Vida promises that the theatre they are in will from now on reflect real people’s lives.
All of this is done using some, at times, witty and amusing poetry and rap, peppered with strong language, and many crude references to women enjoying sex. Kate Prince choreographed rambunctious dancing to DJ Walde‘s insistent beats. For my taste, the many rousing speeches were shouted rather than delivered, and had me reaching in my bag for an aspirin. Don’t misunderstand me, it was fun, but Bacchae was written as a tragedy, and that essential element of it is lost in all the comedy. The remoulding of the plot to support the positive message, not only makes the story confusing, it undermines events that should leave us shell-shocked.
So, I did find Bacchae entertaining, and I am looking forward to what else Indhu Rubasingham will bring to our national theatre, but I hope there will be less messing about and more substance.
Bacchae can be seen at the National Theatre until 1 November 2026. Buy tickets direct from the theatre
Andrew Lincoln & Alicia Vikander in The Lady From The Sea. Photo: Johan Persson
Simon Stone brought us Yerma with Billie Piper, one of the finest productions I have ever seen, and Phaedra with Janet McTeer which was pretty good too. He likes to take a classic, tear it apart, get down to its basics, and rebuild it for the modern world. So did he pull it off with Henrik Ibsen, father of theatrical realism, and stars Alicia Vikander and Andrew Lincoln? The answer is, yes, with style. It is an entertaining, amusing, gripping, unique piece of theatre.
The evening starts (and continues) with much would-be witty repartee of the kind that you find in fiction rather than real life, except this production often presents it as crass or cringeworthy, and characters talk over one another, and mock one another. Ibsen was an early proselytiser of theatrical realism which meant believable conversations featuring middle class families that middle class theatre audiences could identify with, as opposed to the previous focus on royalty and gods. This play, with a script developed by the actors in conjunction with writer director Simon Stone, pays full homage to Ibsen with its realistic dialogue.
The subject matter is serious but this version is also very funny. One of exchanges that made me laugh, given the title of the play, was when someone said to Ellida: ‘You must be the lady of the house’ and she responded: ‘Did he just call me a lady?’
The play is set in the modern day in the Lake District, which makes a change from the Cotswolds, and is sprinkled with contemporary references, to OnlyFans and Just Stop Oil and the like, but the themes of love, loss and the effect of the past on the present are eternal and universal.
Edward and his second wife Ellida seem happy. Although his daughters from his first marriage are rebellious and rude, the couple are able to shrug it off. Then a former lover appears and Ellie must make a choice between an unfinished relationship and her current love.
Death hangs over the narrative: there are suicides, one by Edward’s first wife; Edward and Ellida have lost a child through miscarriage; a visiting young sculptor has a terminal illness. While the presence of death in their lives messes up some of the characters’ lives, it also acts as a reminder that life is short and unpredictable, and needs to be lived, not postponed. Dramatic choices and revelations continue to the end.
The acting is uniformly excellent but none better than the two leads- Andrew Lincoln is totally convincing as a man lacking confidence, despite being a leading neurologist. This is revealed to be the result of a cold father. Events test Edward’s liberal attitudes to breaking point. He, like the script, is funny, angry and anguished.
Alicia Vikander is a more subdued presence playing a quietly confident mature woman, with a slightly flat, stuttering delivery that made all the more powerful her passion, when it came out. At that point, she seemed to revert to the nervous, vulnerable youngster from twenty years earlier, who made decisions that would shape her life.
The young people- two teenage daughters planning the first stages of adulthood, and the dying sculptor- remind us of the turbulence of life as a young person. I loved Isobel Akuwudike and Gracie Oddie-James as the stroppy but ultimately caring daughters, and Joe Alwyn is wonderfully neurotic as the sculptor. John Macmillan is spot-on as the blunt, faithful family friend Lyle. Brendan Cowell is suitably charismatic as Finn, the lover from the past.
The Lady From The Sea at The Bridge. Photo: Johan Persson
Lizzie Clachan’s magnificent set isn’t in keeping with ideas of realism. It is pure theatre. The show is set in the round, bringing the audience close to the actors in this intimate family drama. There are minimal props- a table and chairs in one corner and a sun lounger opposite. (Avoid seats near the right corner as you enter the auditorium and the opposite corner on the far side, as these bits of furniture will sometimes obscure your view.)
During the interval, the entire set, both the floor and the small number of props are changed from completely white to totally black. Straightaway, you feel there will trouble ahead! The beginnings of scenes increasingly overlap with the ends of the previous ones, as the tension increases- as if we can’t wait to see what happens next.
Much of the baggage Ellida carries is weighed down by events at sea, so , in an eye-popping moment in the second act, water appears, first as heavy rain, then as shallow water when part of the stage drops. Two lovers make out in it with echoes of From Here To Eternity, before it becomes a swimming pool. It may not be an immersive production from the audience’s point of view but some of the actors are fully immersed in the pool. It could only happen in theatre. But, far from being gloomy, the water- like the play itself- is ultimately cleansing.
This is an intense piece of theatre I wouldn’t have wanted to miss.
Stephen Mangan, Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner
Unicorn is about a middle-aged couple played by Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan who are attracted to the idea of introducing a third person into their relationship- in the form of a younger woman played by Erin Doherty.
This makes it a difficult play to review. Not because of some of the language- although that’s a problem too- but because so much of the play is about whether they will or won’t go ahead. I’ll do my best to talk about this adventurous comedy without giving away any spoilers.
Here are some things I can tell you about Unicorn. It’s funny, although the light-heartedness does give way to something deeper in the second half. I can also tell you it’s about emotional relationships rather than a simple threesome (if indeed a threesome is ever simple). And, even if it is about more than physical gratification, there is nevertheless much frank- and indeed filthy- talk about sex.
Having said that, if you were hoping to see these beloved stars in the buff, or were perhaps dreading the embarrassment of seeing bits of them that are normally covered up, there are no depictions of sex. They don’t even undress, well, Nicola Walker does take her shoes off. Frankly, it’s shocking enough to hear Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan talking about sex in explicit four letter words- yes, even that word- without them actually doing it.
Our middle-aged couple still say they love one another but wonder if a third person might spice things up their sex life. Fortunately Polly, played by Nicola Walker at her most hesitant and nervously sensual, is a lecturer, and one of her mature but much younger than her students has the hots for her. And she feels the same.
Normally, if that’s the right word in this unusual situation, it’s difficult to find a young woman who wants a relationship with an older couple. (I’m not saying this from personal experience- it’s what we’re told in the play.) As rare as a unicorn, in fact. But fortunately, Kate, played by Erin Doherty, is interested, and so the story begins. The very word ‘unicorn’ may suggest a fantasy but we go with it because this is a scintillating script by Mike Bartlett, and these three actors, under James Macdonald’s direction, know exactly what to do with it. Their comic timing is exquisite.
Erin Doherty nails the younger woman: frank, matter-of-fact and with a clear picture of what she wants. She talks loud and without hesitation. The generational gap is portrayed well. Stephen Mangan as Nick is especially good as an older man tying himself in knots as he tries to contain what he fears is stereotypical masculinity. He and Nicola Walker capture that respectful tone of the woke London middle class who are aware they shouldn’t offend or take risks, so beat about the bush and constantly retreat from what they really want. ‘It’s entirely possible that on some level this is inappropriate,’ says Polly to Kate. Even when they kiss, all three contain any passion they might feel in favour of conversation.
So we journey through the first half continuing a will-they-won’t-they situation. At this point, I think I can add something to my plot summary. It might be a spoiler but I doubt you imagine this prevarication, funny as it is, could possibly continue for over two hours. In the second half, they do get together, but only after some significant turning points in all their lives. We find that 30 year old Kate is increasingly the driving force in the potential three-way relationship, and we realise why. She comes to represent not only hope for the throuple but also a wider hope for humanity.
Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner
As we move into the dynamics of the menage-a-trois, and its ups and downs (no innuendo intended), the humour subsides a little in favour of more philosophical conversations. To summarise: we live in dangerous times, when the world and our bodies are threatened by pollution. We’re brought up on Disney happy-ever-after movies and bicycles made for two. So our primary choice of heteronormative coupling is tied up with this failed society. A willingness to try new, honest ways of living and loving could be the path to happiness and a better world.
It’s clear from the start that this particular arrangement is so rare that it is close to a fairy tale, a fairy tale that even features a unicorn. Then again, children’s fairy tales are a way of tackling the challenges offered by a world that can seem dark and forbidding. I don’t want to say whether their happiness ultimately comes from their being all together or working out different kinds of relationships, but I certainly came out of the theatre feeling upbeat about the world.
Miriam Buether’s set is half of a dome, the other half being in effect the fourth wall. It occasionally concertinas up at the back to allow an entrance. The impression is that the three are contained within a cocoon, thus adding to the feeling that they are in a fantasy world. The backdrop is bathed in different colours, and sometimes Natasha Chivers‘ lighting design casts multiple shadows. I’m not sure if that’s to indicate the multiple possibilities of modern relationships or more mundanely to make the image of two or three people on stage more visually stimulating. There are few props- chairs or a sofa to sit on, a bed to lie on. Refreshingly, both designer and director take a discreet approach that lets the actors to do their job.
I certainly wouldn’t go see Unicorn if you’re hoping for an erotic evening, but if you take it as a fantasy delve into changing attitudes to relationships, then it’s both interesting and funny. If nothing else, it will get you talking, and who knows what that might lead to.
Unicorn can be seen at the Garrick Theatre until 26 April 2025.
Top class acting makes ordinary life extraordinary
★★★★
Anjli Mohindra, Deborah Findlay, Gina Mckee, Romola Garai & Harmony-Rose Bremner in The Years. Photo: Helen Murray
The Years was originally a book by a Nobel Prize winning French woman Annie Ernaux. It was adapted by a Norwegian woman Eline Arbo who directed it while working with a Dutch company. She has now brought the production to London in an English translation by Stephanie Bain. There were moments when I wondered whether the story of an ordinary life was worth all that pan European effort, but in the end it was the acting that sold it to me.
All the actors have familiar faces. Deborah Findlay, Gina McKee and Romola Garai have appeared regularly on stage and screen for decades. Anjli Mohindra and Harmony Rose-Bremner are young, up-and-coming actors who are already building big reputations.
All have the same ability to convey characters through the subtlest of gestures and expressions, and to communicate with confidence when they are centre stage. These are qualities essential to performing in this play, where the actors play the same person at different stages of her life, and the rest of the time take on the multiple other characters who are part of the story.
Harmony Rose-Bremner is Annie as a child fascinated by the family around her. Then Anjli Mohindra takes over as the joyous adolescent discovering, among other things, masturbation. And I must say I have never seen such an enthusiastic depiction of the act on stage.
In the other half of her life, as the middle-aged Annie, Gina McKee, with her trademark knowing smile, observes a new generation of adults and has the maturity to enjoy her own life more- especially the sex. Then in old age, Deborah Findlay takes over as the actual storyteller, looking at the present and all that has happened with a benign smile. If anyone could be said to take the honours in this masterclass of acting, it would be Romola Garai who takes on the mantle of the fresh young adult, learning about the harsh realities of relationships.
And it is quite an epic, taking a provincial French woman from childhood to old age. But what happens to her isn’t exceptional, with the important exception that the lives of ordinary women are rarely told on stage or anywhere else for that matter.
It gains much of its force from being told against the background of the second half of the twentieth century. In other words, it becomes a celebatory story of Women in our time or, depending on our age, the time of our parents and grandparents. So we run through post-Second World War austerity to the growth of consumerism, 1960s rebellion, the sexual liberation encouraged by the Pill, the triumph of free market capitalism, the beginning of a new millennium and 9/11. Lists of brand names and new consumer devices like the Walkman form a motif throughout the play.
The woman is first seen as a young girl, the youngest in the family, and ends up a grandmother, the oldest. In the course of the play, she discovers her sexuality, has non-consensual sex, an unwanted pregnancy, babies, a divorce, more pleasurable sex, copes with teenage children, and becomes an empty nester. The exploration of a life from it all being ahead to being behind is fascinating, and salutary. Annie describes how the memories ‘will all vanish at the same time, like the millions of images that lay behind the foreheads of the grandparents, dead for half a century, and of the parents, also dead…And one day we’ll appear in our children’s memories, among their grandchildren and people not yet born.’
Some of the events are upsetting, such as a harrowing illegal abortion (the play was stopped the night I was there because a member of the audience fainted, which I gather is not unusual), some are funny as when they all join in doing stretches with varying degrees of success as part of a Jane Fonda style fitness session.
But, in itself, this is not enough. Not because it’s about a woman but because a cushioned middle-class life is just not that interesting. It can be: even the most ordinary life has conflicts, challenges, threats, difficult relationships. But in this story, such things are deliberately played down. The alienating way of telling this trip of a lifetime, in which an actor describes what’s going on even as it happens, and with the characters around her almost anonymous, anaesthetises us from the dramas of her life.
The trip of a lifetime
Where we all gain, male and female, is in the story of time itself, and the way our memories remain with us, making the past always present. This is reinforced by all five incarnations, in the form of the actors, remaining on stage throughout. Another motif concerns the taking of photographs that hold one moment in time for a lifetime and beyond.
The story might still seem a trifling thing but for the performances and the creative elements of the production. The actors are all at the top of their game. They wear roughly the same costumes throughout and have few props but, because they speak with passion and mime so convincingly, we believe they are schoolchildren, disco dancing, naked in the bedroom, and so on.
In Juul Dekker’s sparse set, white cloths that represent the background to the photos, are rolled up to act as a baby or become a tablecloth, and end up, having been stained by wine, blood and other fluids of life, hanging as the backcloths to the life we have witnessed. Then, there’s the music. Harmony Rose-Bremner and Romola Garai sing beautifully and add extra depth to the moods of joy and sadness.
I don’t think the play carries the weight it aspires to, but the acting more than makes up for that.
Another day, another Hollywood star in a Sophocles tragedy given a major overhaul by a dynamic young director. And if you thought the critics’ average rating of 2.9★ for Rami Malek in Oedipus was bad, wait until you get to the bottom of this roundup to see what they collectively thought of Brie Larson in Elektra. Daniel Fish, whose dark reinterpretation of Oklahoma! had plenty of fans, went full weird in the opinion of many of the reviewers. Brie Larson hid her acting talent beneath a lot of shouting and loud speakers. Only Stockard Channing emerged unscathed.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
The Guardian’s Arifa Akbar (4★) continued to be a fan of Hollywood stars in extreme interpretations of Sophocles’ classics. Having been one of the few critics to give Rami Malek’s Oedipus four stars, she duplicated her rating but this time was a lonely voice. Here’s part of her commendation: ‘Part spoken, part sung through in recitative and partly shouted in fury, this is a lyrical, avant garde creation, like a long lamentation, bare in its staging and emotions.’ ‘The anger is never shrill or flatly pitched – her delivery captures not only anger but also grief, resembling Hamlet when at her most melancholy. It is a magnetic performance, fearless for a West End debut.’
Sarah Crompton at WhatsOnStage (3★) found ‘the production, full of strangeness and insight, feels half-baked, as if all its elements haven’t quite had time to gel. It simultaneously compels attention and frustrates it.’ She described how ‘Lines are spoken out rather than to one another, formalised and ritualistic rather than naturalistic…The effect is to turn the piece into an abstract meditation rather than drama, a gloss on Elektra not the thing itself. I rather loved it, but it never quite becomes the sum of its parts.’
Olivia Rook for LondonTheatre (3★) described Brie Larson thus: ‘her detached, reflective performance style makes it difficult to feel a connection with her character. Her voice is deliberately flat, which often jars, particularly when she is reunited with her brother and her reaction is borderline emotionless.’
Time Out’s Andrzej Lukowski (3★) said, ‘The biggest problem for me was the use of Anne Carson’s poetic but starchy 2001 verse adaptation – there is some mordant wit in there but I’m not convinced the formality of the verse helped the drama.’
‘It’s haunting, punchily feminist and perverse, all at once’ said Alice Saville in The Independent (3★). She continued: ‘this staging is full of a mesmerising but near-stagnant stillness’ She concluded, ‘It’s a fascinating experiment, one that’s beautiful, but ultimately impenetrable.’
Tim Bano in The Standard honed his sarcasm: ‘It’s not entirely clear if it was Elektra, or an exercise in alienation. A 75-minute test as to whether an audience can keep an open mind.’ He skewered the director: ‘It’s directed (boy is it directed) by the experimental American director Daniel Fish…(he) doesn’t let a single line go un-weirded.’ He ended, ‘“Let me go mad in my own way,” Larson cries – and that’s the whole show, really. Always baffling, never boring, and completely mad in its own way.’ No stars given, which may be intentional, but I’ve put it down as 2★.
The Stage’s Sam Marlowe (2★) was damning: ‘It is so self-consciously stylised, so artful and so devoid of any genuine sense of humanity in extremis that it’s more likely to provoke a yawn or a weary eye roll than pity or terror. You sense that it’s straining for austere elegance and intellectual heft; it comes off simply as sterile and insufferably pretentious.’ Matt Wolf for The Arts Desk (2★) said, ‘The hipster vibe might seem to invite us all to this pathological party only to leave us on the threshold awaiting some way in.’
The Telegraph’s Dominic Cavendish (2★) wasn’t impressed: ‘what gets confused swiftly is where our attention should fall. The problem of over-emphasis is redoubled by Larson’s jolting, forceful delivery into a microphone, sometimes with added distortion and with an almost tic-like need to amplify and draw out every use of the word “no”.’ He wasn’t entirely negative: ‘The laurels go to Stockard Channing (Greece is the word…), giving us a Clytemnestra of stately bearing and stirring defensiveness and lending the pivotal mother-daughter battle an urgency, danger and truthfulness.’
The Times’ Clive Davis (2) recalled happier times at the theatre: ‘Some shows you walk home from humming the songs or cooing at the acting. After Elektra, which gives us Brie Larson as a punk princess agitating against something rotten in the state of ancient Argos like some shaven-haired proto-Hamlet, you go home still boggling at the misguided avant-gardery of it all.’ His last words offered an olive branch to the star: ‘Larson is clearly a gifted, authoritative performer. But she is hemmed into a concept that makes her Elektra only a raging bore.’
Describing it as a ‘droning dud’, Broadway World’s Alexander Cohen (1★) had many questions: ‘Why is there a dangling blimp? Why is there a paint canon sporadically spritzing the chorus? Why does Larson wail atonally like a brat-like banshee into a microphone without any momentum to propel her? It took about three minutes for me to realise that it’s not meant to make sense. This is theatre where the #vibe rules supreme.’
Critics’ Average Rating 2.5★
Value Rating 31 (Value rating is the Average Critic Rating divided by the typical ticket price)
Rami Malek and Indira Varma in Oedipus. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Two new versions of Sophocles’ Oedipus went head-to-head either side of Christmas- Robert Icke‘s which starred Mark Strong and Lesley Manville versus this newly opened production at the Old Vic starring Rami Malek and Indira Varma. We have a winner, and it wasn’t the one featuring Freddie Mercury. Hardly any critic actually liked Malek’s style of acting and there was little praise for the adaptation by Ella Hickson. There were contrasting opinions about the production in which co-director Matthew Warchus conceded time and space to the loud sound and frantic choreography of Heofesh Schecter. It was, you might say, a Marmite decision. Only co-star Indira Varma was universally liked by the critics.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
For a change, I’m going to present the reviews in reverse order of enthusiasm for the show. The most critical came from Claire Allfree in the Telegraph (2★). She began ‘The question of whether Rami Malek can actually act has always hung over this most idiosyncratic of performers.’ Her answer? ‘ Malek is almost entirely at sea with Oedipus, his curious tic-ridden delivery strangling almost every word at birth.’ He was, she said, ‘like an unholy blend of Trump at his most disingenuous and Biden at his most incoherent.’ She doesn’t stop there: ‘his relationship with Varma, who outclasses everyone on stage, is consistently jarring…it resembles a confused arrangement between two people of almost entirely different species’.’One has to wonder,’ she pondered, ‘if the craze for celebrity casting has this week reached its nadir.’
The i-paper‘s Fiona Mountford (2★) thought ‘Malek speaks in a strange drawl that suggests he has toothache’ and described him as ‘all adrift in a bewilderingly centrifugal production’. She wasn’t keen on the use of dance either, saying it was ‘undoubtedly powerful and emotive, but the trouble with these lengthy, wordless episodes is that they fatally disrupt the momentum of what should be the undiluted hurtle of Sophocles’ storytelling’.
Alice Saville in The Independent (2★) was no more enamoured: ‘Ultimately this Oedipus is one for contemporary dance fans…theatre lovers hoping for a coherent take on this often-told story should seek elsewhere.’ ‘It’s gorgeous to look at,’ she said, ‘but there’s more tension in a single chorus member’s bent finger than in its whole slack plot.’
Clive Davis in The Times (3★) was barely more enthusiastic but he did find an extra star. The text, he suggested, ‘For long stretches, in fact, sounds more like the work of an AI programme commissioned to generate soap opera chat laced with the sort of noirish boilerplate that would sit nicely in a Tarantino film.’ For him, Rami Malek gave a ‘curiously stilted central performance…his rigid facial expressions evoking all those socialite millionaires who’ve gone in for a few too many injections of Botox.’ Having praised the sound, dance, set and lighting, he damned it with faint praise: ‘We can’t help being drawn into a harsh, elemental world. If only it had a more charismatic presence at its centre.’
Dave Fargnoli for The Stage (3★) began, ‘Bursting with bold visuals and angsty, unsubtle performances, this ambitious, often incoherent take on Sophocles’ classic myth puts style firmly ahead of substance’ but in the end he managed to winkle out some substance: ‘Indira Varma gives a consummate, focused performance as Jocasta, grounding the production with heartfelt naturalism.’
‘The opening is dazzling,’ said Sarah Crompton at WhatsOnStage (3★). Unfortunately, ‘it can’t sustain the intensity it promises. By the end, there’s not much catharsis and without that, there’s not much tragedy.’ She pointed out that Malek’s ‘lack of emotion is emphasised by a script that chooses to offer an unusually tentative ending rather than searing revelation and despair.’
The Mail‘s Patrick Marmion (3★) found that Rami Malek’s ‘inward looking method acting is not well suited to ritualistic staging that’s meant to evoke Greek religious cults from antiquity’. He also berated ‘Ella Hickson’s wooden adaptation’.
Inevitably there were unfavourable comparisons with the recently closed Oedipus directed by Robert Icke. Take this from Tim Bano in The Standard (3★): ‘Where Icke’s was all sleekness and surgical precision, this one…takes Aristotle’s unities and rubs them in the old philosopher’s face. Why have unity when you can have the mad and slightly ridiculous chaos of several different creative visions squeezed into 100 minutes?’ He explained in more detail: ‘Hickson’s doing one thing, Warchus another, Schechter a third, Malek something else besides, possibly on another planet.’ Talking of the Hollywood Oscar winner: ‘Sinister and expressionless, he delivers every line in a strangely mannered way, and every word sounds like one long vowel.’
The Guardian‘s Arifa Akbar (4★) was one of the few genuinely enthusiastic reviewers. She liked the dance and the loud music and even Rami Malek’s performance: ‘He brings outsider vibes to Oedipus – speaking in an elusive American drawl, adopting the mantle of leadership like a haunted robot.’
Perhaps most impressed was Alexander Cohen for BroadwayWorld (4★). He was immediately taken by ‘a frenetic whirlwind of theatre and dance …that returns the power back to the people’ (i.e. the Greek chorus). As for Rami Malek: ‘It takes time to acclimatise to his slinky weirdness and syrupy southern drawl. But Oedipus is supposed to be an outsider welcomed in, the tendrils of his otherness bleeding deep into his paranoid psyche. Ella Hickson’s wily adaptation hints at scathing insecurity bubbling beneath his calm demeanour which Malek subtly preys upon in his angular mannerisms.’
Critics’ average rating: 2.9★
Value Rating 34 (Value rating is the Average Critic Rating divided by the typical ticket price)
Steve Pemberton & Reece Shearsmith in Inside No 9: Stage/Fright
Inside No 9 ran for a highly successful nine (of course) series. The spin-off stage show is clearly one for the fans but it embraces the medium of theatre, according to the critics. Some of them found it inventive and frightening, others thought it was funny but not that original.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
‘It isn’t to be missed’ declared a besotted Katelyn Mensah for Radio Times (5★). And in case you missed the message, she ended her review ‘it’s a thrilling ride that shouldn’t be missed.’
For Dominic Cavendish of the Telegraph (4★) was more measured: ‘this is an evening that tallies the need to give us a good laugh and a valuable fright – encapsulating their relish for the absurd and macabre – with reflections on mortality and loss.’
For The Guardian (4★), Brian Logan called it ‘a slickly produced spooky wheeze, distinguished by Shearsmith and Pemberton’s clearly personal obsession with the double-act dynamic and old-school entertainment, and with theatres and their ghosts.’
‘There’s a lot that’s absurdly funny, as well as one sequence that is genuinely hair-raising. Meanwhile a deeper, more moving thread works through the piece about the interplay between acting, memory and haunting,’ said Sarah Hemming in The Financial Times (4★).
The i-paper’s Culture Editor Sarah Carson (4★) took on reviewing duties for this show, calling it ‘riotously fun’ and ‘raucously entertaining’. She praised ‘ writing and wordplay that is so clever and quick that it is impossible not to miss every reference.’ Not sure that’s what she meant to say but you get the message.
‘It’s not radical, or even as ground-breaking as the television shows which have spawned it. But it is great, all-encompassing fun,’ said Sarah Crompton at WhatsOnStage (4★).
Annabel Nugent for The Independent (4★) said, ‘if nothing else, this is one play you won’t be checking your watch in. Tonight, on stage, the spirit of Inside No 9 is alive and kicking.’
Anya Ryan from LondonTheatre (3★) seemed like she was hoping for more originality, nevertheless: ‘Recycled gags? Tick. An element of surprise? Tick. And the cherished pair giving it their everything? Oh absolutely.’
The Stage’s Sam Marlowe (3★) said, ‘It’s a show in need of a stronger sense of purpose and identity: it’s not quite funny, emotionally involving or frightening enough, even though it has flickers of all those elements.’
Nick Curtis of The Standard (3★) called it ‘a mix of the intelligent and the obvious – part smart reinvention and part lazy cash-in.’ Patrick Marmion had a similar reaction in the Mail (3★): ‘The show has a distinct feeling of using up the comedians’ off-cuts, out-takes and left-overs for the amusement of themselves and their fervid fan-base. ‘
At the start of 2025, it seemed that The Times’ Clive Davis (2★) had made a New Year resolution to be nicer to the shows but, if he did, he hasn’t stuck to it. In his latest outing, he reverted to the hard-to-please, sting-like-a-scorpion critic that we know and love. In a review was more frightening than the show, he warned, ‘Prepare to be underwhelmed… by this laboured set of ghoulish sketches’
Critics’ average rating 3.6★
Value Rating 42 (Value rating is the Average Critic Rating divided by the typical ticket price)
David Byrne‘s first season as Artistic Director of the Royal Court continues to impress. His latest offering is Amy Jephta‘s play is set in South Africa where a middle-aged white couple enlist wealthy black neighbours whom they’ve previously ignored to improve the effectiveness of their bid to remove an unauthorised shack in their enclave. The critics mostly liked it but were split between those who thought it was ‘perceptive provocative fun’ and those who thought it didn’t quite convince.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
Arifa Akbar in The Guardian (4★) found it was a play with layers: ‘Do they want to be insiders at all or remain wilful outsiders, keeping a connection to the imaginary invaders in the shack – and their own past geographies? How does being on the “inside” compromise the integrity of their identity politics, as well? The layers to this line of questioning are what gives this play its depth.’
Dave Fargnoli in The Stage (4★) liked the way the director Nancy ‘Medina takes a methodical approach, allowing conflict to escalate gradually, the debates eventually descending into rapid-fire shouting matches. This allows for some brilliantly judged comic timing, as the residents twist themselves into exquisitely awkward knots, trying to mask their toxic entitlement with hollow civility.’
The Times‘ Clive Davis (4★) began ‘this quirky domestic drama sends you home with awkward questions buzzing around in your head.’ He was happy that ‘there’s an intensity to all the performances that keeps agitprop at bay. Jephta’s mischievous portrait of life in a far-away country has a universal flavour.’
WhatsOnStage‘s Sarah Crompton (4★) called it ‘fast-moving and very funny, puncturing assumptions and attitudes with swift and searing observation’. The Standard‘s Nick Curtis (4★) said, ‘This isn’t perfect but it’s perceptive, provoking fun.’
Aleks Sierz at TheArtsDesk (3★) said it was ‘perceptive and provocative, but it’s also an imperfect mix of styles and topics.’ While calling it ‘a worthy exploration of prejudice and privilege’, Holly O’Mahony at LondonTheatre (3★) decided, ‘this play, with its cracking premise, still has room to grow.’
Alexander Cohen at Broadway World (2★) was disappointed, describing it as ‘A case of never being more than the sum of its parts, even if those parts have promise in themselves.’
Lionel Bart’s Oliver! is one of the few, perhaps the only, bona fide British musical from the Golden Age when shows were packed with memorable songs. The legendary producer Cameron Mackintosh has loved Oliver! since childhood and returned to it again and again. His latest production was praised in many 5 star reviews for Matthew Bourne‘s choreography, Paule Constable’s dramatic lighting, Lez Brotherston’s intimate set, Simon Lipkin‘s portrayal of Fagin and for being a little darker than past incarnations. But some found it too old-fashioned and lacking in bite.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
Marianka Swain at LondonTheatre (5★) delivered her customary thoughtful analysis: ‘Bart’s musical can be something of a tonal challenge: steeped in the darkness of Dickens’ novel, yet simultaneously packed with jaunty tunes and cockney knees-up dance numbers. Bourne (who choreographs and co-directs with Jean-Pierre van der Spuy), manages that balancing act perfectly, giving us plenty of grime and grit alongside transporting pleasures.’ She declared ‘the true star is Paule Constable and Ben Jacobs’s sublime lighting design, which brings quite literal light and shade to the production. It’s genuinely terrifying when the villainous Bill Sikes looms out of the smoky darkness, his menacing shadow the first thing we see.’
WhatsOnStage‘s Sarah Crompton (5★) noted, ‘Its quality lies in the way that the collaborators … make a contrast between constant movement and stillness, allowing the focus to slide from broad, bright dance scenes full of life, to powerfully arresting moments of peril and sadness.’ Adam Bloodworth at CityAM (5★) declared, ‘director and choreographer Matthew Bourne has surely opened the musical of the year with his astounding dance sequences. It’s especially the ensemble numbers that are sheer staggering feats of imagination, offering insane levels of detail to bring Victorian London back to life.’
Helen Hawkins on the Arts Desk (5★) praised the ‘impeccable singing and dancing, teamed with a brilliant set, atmospheric lighting and a Poor Theatre design that makes the staging oddly intimate’. Allya Al-Hassan at Broadway World (5★) pointed out, ‘Whilst retaining the joy and exuberance of Bart’s music, it does not shy away from the dark heart of child poverty, exploitation and violence of Charles Dickens’ story. It also manages to have moments of pure theatrical comedy. It is a deft and masterful achievement.’
Neil Fisher for The Times (5★) added a star to his colleague Clive Davis’ previous Chichester review: ‘you can’t fault the verve with which Bourne drills the big numbers, nor the cast’s bonhomie.’ Of the show’s Fagin, he said, ‘Lipkin captures both the plight of the traumatised immigrant – and of anyone trying to lead a good life in a dark and devious world’. The Telegraph‘s Dominic Cavendish (5★) enjoyed ‘dollops of theatrical delight’, and said ‘the whole thing is delivered with such tightly choreographed panache’.
Dominic Maxwell in The Sunday Times (4★) described how ‘Matthew Bourne’s sumptuous production at the Gielgud Theatre in London gives us a Victorian London of shadows, spotlights and smoke. It looks dangerous, but gorgeous. Nice job.’
The Observer’s Susannah Clapp (4) picked out ‘Superb lighting by Paule Constable and Ben Jacobs shows the action as if through Oliver’s eyes: a harsh glitter of grey over the workhouse; a deceptive golden glow for Fagin’s den.’
The Stage‘s Sam Marlowe (4★) described how ‘Designer Lez Brotherston delivers a murky London of steel gantries, pawnshops, pubs and coffee houses, bustling with picture-perfect denizens: self-important men with mutton chops, moustaches and stovepipe hats, and purse-lipped women in mob caps with formidable bosoms. Bourne’s buoyant, nimble choreography is wrapped around darker drama that makes its mark in broad strokes.’
Not everyone was so impressed. Fiona Mountford at i-news (3★) said ‘rarely have I felt so awkwardly aware of a piece’s fundamental pretence…Everything here looks precise and lovely, immaculately well-drilled, but it’s almost impossible to feel emotionally invested.’
Andrjez Lukowski at Time Out (3★) felt it lacked punch. Take Simon Lipkin’s Fagin: ‘Making him so nice he won’t offend anyone is certainly one idea, but it does further defang Dickens’s yarn.’ He contended ‘The biggest flaw, though, is one that’s haunted the show for decades: Oliver himself is just pretty bland.’
Having reviewed it in Chichester, The Guardian decided the production didn’t require a second review
Critics’ Average Review 4.4
Value Rating 46 (Value rating is the Average Critic Rating divided by the typical ticket price)
If you’ve seen Oliver!at the Gielgud Theatre, please add your review and rating below
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