Lord of the Flies

by Nigel Williams adapted from William Golding's novel

seen at the Chichester Festival Theatre on 11 October 2025

William Golding's famous novel is now over 70 years old and this stage adaptation was written in 1991 for a school production and first performed professionally in 1995. But the big question at the heart of Lord of the Flies still remains all too pertinent: to what extent is "civilised society" just a veneer concealing humanity's innate cruelty and violence. The issue is crystallised in the story of a group of British schoolboys - ostensibly the exemplars of good behaviour - stranded by a plane crash on an uninhabited tropical island with no surviving adults. What will they do?

Notoriously they start with high ideals - mostly suggested by Piggy (Alfie Jallow), who sees the reluctant Ralph (Sheyi Cole) as the obvious person to lead - but these are compromised by boyish inattention to detail, high spirits, and eventually the disruptions caused by the charismatic Jack (Tucker St. Ivany) who disputes Ralph's authority and causes a fateful split. Things only go from bad to worse as Jack's gang becomes increasingly rebellious and violent, partly through inadvertence and partly through Jack's visions of "the Beast".

It is difficult to depict a tropical island on a bare stage, and difficult too to present the group of boys as young enough to match those in the original novel, or even for that matter in Peter Brook's celebrated film. Director Antony Lau and designer Georgia Lowe have made virtues of necessity: the stage is utterly bare, the backstage area starkly revealed to the audience, and it is littered with the moveable crates one sees at airports, which make for handy props. The boys are all young actors, some making their professional debut, but clearly at the very end of their schooldays if not beyond them. In a space that is unadorned, surrounded by black walls and black crates, the cast evokes the island with impressive conviction, and also manages to convey the curious mixture of swagger and insecurity which might typify the reactions of young boys cast on their own resources. Wisely, the boys we see are the "big'uns", while the "little'uns" (the youngest survivors of the crash) are only referred to.

At times it was difficult to understand exactly what was happening: there was too much noise and frenzy on stage. At times there was a strange disconnect between the theatrical space and the imagined space: towards the end of the play Jack seated himself at a piano and gave a spirited rendition of "The Great Pretender" as the chaos that he had unleashed began to spread. But at other times the spectacle was completely engrossing, and the group dynamics superbly realised. The boyish taunts ("stupid" being the ultimate put-down or insult), the playground bullying suddenly turned frighteningly serious, the anxiousness to please authority and the nervousness when authority seemed to be absent, were all convincing. Perhaps the full horror of what happens was weakened by the inescapable fact that the cast was older than the boys they were playing, but it was a fine production of a powerful adaptation..

Creditors

by August Strindberg adapted by Howard Brenton

seen at the Orange Tree Theatre Richmond on 16 September 2025

Tom Littler directs Charles Dance as Gustaf, Geraldine James as Tekla and Nicholas Farrell as Adolf in Strindberg's 1889 acute psychological drama about a strained marriage (Tekla's and Adolf's) and the disruptive influence of a third party.

In a set of aseptic creams and blues designed by Louie Whitemore representing a hotel at a Swedish sea-side resort Gustaf has befriended Adolf and persuaded him to shift from painting to sculpture to revive his flagging inspiration. Despite a short friendship - barely more than a week - they start to discuss Adolf's marriage. Gustaf's probing and apparently authoritative manner soon expose Adolf's insecurities while none-too-subtly denigrating the absent Tekla. Since Tekla had left her first husband to take up with Adolf there is fertile ground for undermining Adolf's confidence in her current fidelity. Clearly a man so easily persuaded to change the medium of his artistic expression is also suggestible in other areas of his life.

On Tekla's return Gustaf retreats to a room from where he can eavesdrop while husband and wife confront one another, moving rapidly from kittenish playfulness to lacerating criticism, and finally, in a surprising twist, Gustaf and Tekla cross swords. The play therefore is a series of dialogues; apart from a final brief tableau there are only ever two characters on stage at a time, and the intense encounters are thus tightly wound, sometimes resembling (to modern eyes and ears) informal therapy sessions made unhealthy by the ulterior motives of the participants.

One can see here the precursor to the styles and preoccupations of many subsequent dramatists: the veiled threat of insinuation so expertly wielded by Pinter; the backstory of long-simmering tensions precipitating a crisis often used by Eugene O'Neill; the unexpected twist forcing a late re-evaluation beloved by Edward Albee; even the barbs underlying social niceties which give some of Noel Coward's plays their unexpected bite amidst uneasy humour. In the hands of these three masterful actors the dynamics fizz and the acuity of Strindberg's dissection of an unsatisfactory marriage is brilliantly explored.

The drawcard of this particular cast - apart from their obvious expertise and long theatrical experience - is that the three actors have not been seen together since they appeared in the famed TV series The Jewel in the Crown more than forty years ago. However, such an extraneous frisson pales into insignificance once the performance starts: we are simply witnesses to an incisive theatrical experience.

Juniper Blood

by Mike Bartlett

seen at the Donmar Warehouse on 11 September 2025

James Macdonald directs Hattie Morahan as Ruth, Sam Troughton as her partner Lip, Nadia Parkes as her "ex-step-daughter" Millie, Terique Jarrett as her partner Femi and Jonathan Slinger as the neighbouring farmer Tony in Mike Bartlett's new play Juniper Blood.

Ruth and Lip are trying to live a sustainable life on Lip's family farm, which Ruth has clearly saved from being sold or broken up - Lip, something of an unworldly idealist, was clearly unable to manage on his own. Millie and Femi, visiting from the city, provide skewering generational and urban/rural barbs which indicate that Ruth is not necessarily a saintly figure, while Tony in turn satirises the eco-pastoralist ideals Ruth and Lip embody, while dealing with his own profoundly distressing recent widowhood.

The play, designed by ULTZ, is set out of doors - the program contains a long essay on the significance of farm settings in plays. There is a grassy field (real grass: how is it kept flourishing?) and sharp daylight turning to dusk at the end of the first act. The tensions and discussions are, it is claimed, inflected rather differently when set outside, rather than (for. example) in a farmhouse kitchen such as would more normally suit a theatre.

There is plenty of scope for tension as the characters reveal their priorities and prejudices. Is sustainable farming economically possible? Is idealism viable at any cost? Can simmering cross-purposes be resolved or will the antagonisms just get worse? These are big issues at both the personal and the societal level, and the play attempts to embrace them all.

While the setting is arresting and the actors excellent, the play itself constantly runs the risk of being too wordy and preachy, raising important issues at the expense of dramatic credibility and narrative drive. The painful dynamic between Ruth and Millie is hilarious and toe-curling at once, but after the first act it recedes into the background, receiving only a slight flicker of interest towards the end. Likewise Tony's interaction with Ruth, prominent in the second act, once having served its turn, receives no further attention. Meanwhile in the third act there is an astonishing disquisition by Femi on the nexus and ultimate triumph of capitalism which is more of a lecture than anything else: only exceptional skill can bring this sort of thing off without intensely irritating an audience (Terique Jarrett succeeds in this).

Sociasl satire, family drama, echoes of Chekhov - even trees being bulldozed, let alone the personal dynamics - and state-of-the-world polemics make for a heady but not entirely successful blend: fascinating to watch in such a well-conceived and acted production, and yet not completely convincing.

Top Hat

by Irving Berlin

seen at the Chichester Festival Theatre on 23 August 2025

RKO's 1935 film Top Hat has been adapted for the stage by Matthew White and Howard Jacques, and is directed and choreographed by Kathleen Marshall. Jerry Travers (the part taken by Fred Astaire in the film) is played by Phillip Attmore and Dale Tremont (taken by Ginger Rogers) by Lucy St. Louis, with Horace Hardwick played by Clive Carter and Madge Hardwick by Sally Ann Triplett, together with a large supporting cast.

The play is essentially a farce generated by prolonged mistaken identities and misunderstandings, interspersed with now-famous songs and dazzling tap routines. To some extent the musical numbers slow down the farce (problematic since the genre depends on fast action to disguise the improbabilities) while the ludicrous situations surround classic songs and dances with unrelated froth, but the resulting confection is very entertaining and the comic energy gathers pace, especially in the second half.

Transferring a film, in which it is easy to move from place to place with a camera fade, to the stage can be a perilous affair, but the set designer Peter McKintosh has solved the problems on the Chichester's thrust stage with a glitzy all-purpose Art Deco backdrop, the clever use of a revolve, and adroit placements of furniture by a bevy of assorted hotel staff. Even the quick shifts from one bedroom suite to another, required in both the London and the Venetian settings, are managed with flair, while a series of benches or balustrades rise from the revolving floor when required for hotel lobbies or bandstands.

The leading couple perhaps inevitably lack the extraordinary chemistry of their film originals, but nonetheless play off each other engagingly and prove sterling dancers in both duets and ensemble numbers. On the exposed circle of the stage, with the outermost area lower than the centre, the sheer skill of co-ordinated tap dancing is shown off to exhilarating effect; since the style is now not so often seen it is salutary to be reminded how accomplished the cast must be to deliver the routines without mishap.

All in all, a good evening's entertainment. 

Girl from the North Country

by Conor McPherson, songs by Bob Dylan

seen at the Old Vic on 20 August 2025

This is a revival of the Old Vic's 2017 production with a new cast, providing a welcome opportunity to see the piece again.

See my review from 6 September 2017 for details of the production. 

What I noticed particularly on this viewing was how melancholy the narrative arc was. Unusually for a musical, no applause was offered by the utterly engaged audience for any of the songs, allowing for a completely unbroken span of attention throughout the performance, and preserving the atmosphere of increasing desperation without distraction. This was by no means because the audience was dissatisfied, as the enthusiastic applause at the end demonstrated, but somehow a sense prevailed that interim applause would break the spell.

A Midsummer Night's Dream

by William Shakespeare

seen at  the Bridge Theatre on 19 August 2025

This is a revival of Nicholas Hytner's hugely successful 2019 production of the play, with a new cast except for Puck, inimitably played by David Moorst: it is hard to imagine anyone else bringing his skills as an actor and acrobat to this interpretation of the part.

Even on a second viewing the production was well worth seeing, the modern interpolations as funny as before, and the stagecraft marvellous to behold. Though it may be suspected that the Bridge is 'marking time', having hugely extended its run of Guys and Dolls and then revived a past production, the move must be justified financially and the standards have by no means slipped.

See my review from 17 August 2019 for more details of how the play was conceived.

Poor Clare

by Chiara Atik

seen at the Orange Tree Theatre Richmond on 7 August 2025

Blanche McIntyre directs Arsema Thomas as Clare, Freddy Carter as Francis, Anushka Chakravarti as Beatrice (Clare's sister). Hermione Gulliford as Ortolana (Clare's mother), Liz Kettle as Peppa and Jacoba Williams as Alma (servants in the household), and George Ormerod as a beggar in Chiara Atik's exploration of the career of St Clare of Assisi.

In a series of short scenes (managed with confidence and aplomb by ASMs in costumes as further servants in Clare's family household) we see Clare develop from being the typical product of a prosperous family with expectations of social standing and a marriage of convenience, to becoming a follower of the extraordinary path laid out by St Francis. 

Clare is sassy and opinionated, but completely sheltered from the the vicissitudes of life: when she and her sister are accosted by a beggar they scream in fright and run off as quickly as possible. It is only after encountering the newly scandalous Francis that she begins to rethink her priorities, though the lessons in absolute charity and renunciation of privilege are not easy to learn or to live out. Beatrice finds sharing a bed with a sister who has decided to wear a hair shirt profoundly uncomfortable; impulsive gifts to servants cause confusion in the household; attempts to run a 'clothing drive' for the poor are a bit ham-fisted. Clare is appalled that Francis will not act as a go-between to distribute the clothes she, her family and their friends have collected, and then she has to face the fact that well-meaning charity is not always well received by its recipients, because it may not be what they really need.

The play is written in an extremely modern idiom, though dressed in medieval costume. It's deliberately disorienting to hear modern expressions from the mouths of ladies in rich brocades or servant women in homespun, and even more so to have everyone speak in American accents - a deliberate nod to the playwright's origin, and a reminder that the issues facing Clare as a well-to-do person are still with us today: the play closes with an impassioned speech about moral responsibility in the modern world.

Clare's own progress towards her ultimate desire to break with her family and fully embrace Francis's doctrines seems like an exciting adventure in many ways; the growing friendship between the two has an easy familiarity once her initial bafflement subsides. Only at the very end of the play, when Clare asks to be tonsured and realises that Francis does not intend that they shall live in the same place - indeed that he intends to 'enclose' her, effectively sealing her off from the world in which he roams freely - does the full enormity of the step she is taking begin to sink in. We barely have time to register the shock of the disparity between what Francis imagines his male and his female followers are fit for, and there is no time to explore the further career of poor Clare as she becomes the founder of the Poor Clares.

In its own terms though, the play is fascinating, and the next stage of Clare's life is sensibly beyond its scope. Francis himself still seems to be finding his way as his boyish enthusiasms come up against stubborn reality, though he is adept at finding creative solutions (for example, appealing directly to the pope to forestall an unsympathetic local bishop) or in accepting from Clare some modifications to his grandiose plans for decorating a ruined chapel. His authoritative attitude to her future career seems like a harbinger from a different world, after his initial suggestions for what she might think about or do have been couched in rather more modern terms of giving hints rather than commands. 

The next chapter of their lives raises different issues for which the at times irreverent style of this play would hardly be suitable; the appeal to us to rethink our attitude to the poor among us would have been dulled by any attempt to grapple with the austere institution of an enclosed order of nuns.