Tag Archives: National Theatre

2023

“Dear England” at the National Theatre

Football is not my thing. But, like a lot of sports, the beautiful game (that’s what people who like it call it, don’t you know) makes good theatre. Director Rupert Goold’s production of James Graham’s new play has a lot of energy and brings out the drama on the field and behind the scenes. Even if sports psychology and penalty shootouts don’t excite you, they work well on stage.

Tracking the England team’s recent history, there’s a neat theatrical parallel as our hero, manager Gareth Southgate, talks of “storytelling”. Using a psychologist, Pippa Grange, and building team spirit has long-term aims to create a new narrative. The duo, by far the main protagonists, prove inspirational, with excellent performances from Joseph Fiennes and Gina McKee that make them easy to root for.

It seems that the team’s problem is expectation and what’s needed is “learning how to lose”. The reasoning is presented clearly and leads to moving moments. Time is spent over Southgate’s own personal trauma from missing a penalty. And emphasis on the players’ youth is smart. If issues of racism and sexism might be explored more, seeing the people behind the players is a sound move.

The football team parallels a theatrical ensemble and here close-knit performances of multiple roles are consistently strong. Such praise comes despite my not appreciating the show’s humour. Nearly every character is a famous face. If, like me, you don’t know them, the audience reaction is baffling. Let’s just report that the loose impersonations go down very well indeed. Will Close’s Harry Kane is a particular standout.

Graham is a political playwright and obviously wants his work to be about more than football. Beneath the team’s problem is the idea of English exceptionalism – thinking we will win despite evidence to the contrary. Hinting at a connection to wider political events does not always convince, and brief appearances from prime ministers seem wasted. But the wish to question what it is to be English, as you are about to represent England, seems sensible enough. Staging the play at the nation’s theatre is fitting.

Like Southgate it seems, Graham wants to raise questions. The play grows in power as a result. A letter by Southgate, which inspires the play’s title and is judiciously quoted, makes big claims – compassion and change are highlighted. The focus is on optimism (which makes a nice change nowadays). Goold’s expansive energy complements this perfectly. Despite not winning the World Cup, the play ends on sense of hope that is bigger than football. And that’s a great goal.

Until 11 August 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

2023

“Dancing at Lughnasa” at the National Theatre

Framed around the childhood of a narrator we take to be the playwright, Brian Friel’s award-winning 1990 play is a powerfully subtle piece about memory. We see the frustrated lives of an unmarried mother and her four spinster sisters in 1930s rural Ireland. Beneath mundane details are suggestions of what these women really felt and glimpses of what they wished for.

Running parallel to events, ruminations on recollection itself are exquisitely delivered by Tom Vauhgan-Lawlor, who plays this all-important narrator. It’s clear that this vision of the past is about emotion rather than action. We shouldn’t trust what we see (although note how tempting it is to do so), not because we are being misled but since so much is unknown. The tone is melancholic, despite many moments of affection and joy. 

Tom-Vaughan-Lawlor-in-Dancing-at-Lughnasa-Photo-Johan-Persson
Tom Vaughan-Lawlor

The pace set by director Josie Rourke is appropriately calm. During almost three hours little happens (and ‘big’ events are always off stage). It is the characters who are enthralling with every detail worthy of attention. What we get are snatches remembered from youth – riddles, toys and jokes or arguments that impress themselves on a child – small moments, but vivid.

There are larger themes in Dancing at Lughnasa – big changes in Irish politics and society, with the theme of emigration regularly infringing on life – and Rourke carefully follows Friel’s lead to handle these, mostly, lightly. An exception is Father Jack, a brother who has returned from missionary work having ‘gone native’. The link to the play’s wider pagan themes is stated rather than explored, an unusual misstep, which leaves Ardal O’Hanlon somewhat wasted in the role.

Siobhan-McSweeney-Ardal-OHanlon-and-Justine-Mitchell-in-Dancing-at-Lughnasa-Photo-Johan-Persson
Siobhan McSweeney Ardal OHanlon and Justine Mitchell

The detail in the writing is captured in a set of strong performances with each actor having to portray frustrations felt as well as a sense of opportunities lost. Our narrator’s mother, played by Alison Oliver, is appropriately to the fore. Her siblings – Justine Mitchell, Louisa Harland, and Bláithín Mac Gabhann – are excellent. These are restrained women, with the weight of the world on their shoulders, which makes any escapism potent. Feel free to pick your favourite although it is hard not to highlight Siobhán McSweeney’s comedy skills as the fifth sister. Her character is described as “light-hearted”, but it is the moments when her smile slips that are most powerful.

There is much unsaid in Dancing at Lughnasa, with plenty of the communication being non-verbal. It turns out that the summer of 1936 was the last time that the family were all together (typically, we don’t see this dramatic split). Is it the time or the memory that comes to be described as “alluring and mesmeric”? Either way, those are responses that the audience comes to share with the narrator. As with time lost and memories themselves, the play lingers in the mind.

Until 27 May 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

2023

“Dixon and Daughters” at the National Theatre

Theatre doesn’t get harder hitting than this. Director Róisín McBrinn and playwright Deborah Bruce have worked with the show’s co-producer Clean Break, a women’s theatre company that focuses on the criminal justice system. As a story of how that system impacts on traumatised lives, Dixon and Daughters is intense, provocative and powerful.

The insights gained from in-depth research have led to a script with unquestionable authenticity – which doesn’t make Dixon and Daughters easy to watch. No fewer than six women, five from the same family, show the complexity of abuse. What has happened to them isn’t easy to think about, let alone watch. Bruce charts how past events have shaped lives and endanger futures.

Exploring reactions to abuse proves profound. First, there is denial – we meet Mary, the mother of the family, on her return from prison, incarcerated for perverting the course of justice in a case against her husband. Bríd Brennan’s performance in the role is flawless, with plenty of twisted logic and perverse outrage convincingly depicted. When Mary confronts the truth, Brennan gives a raw performance that is painful to see.

Mary’s daughters Julie and Bernie (further excellent performances from Andrea Lowe and Liz White, respectively) share some of this wish for silence, but their trauma is clearer to see. Julie has become an alcoholic in another abusive relationship. Bernie focuses on her daughter Ella (Yazmin Kayani), who has her own story to tell about the pervasiveness of male power.

Posy-Sterling-and-behind-Bríd-Brennan-Liz-White-and-Andrea-Lowe-in-Dixon-and-Daughters-at-the-National-Theatre-credit-Helen-Murray
Posy Sterling with Bríd Brennan, Liz White and Andrea Lowe in the background

Ella is joined by a woman called Leigh, who Mary met in prison. This extremely damaged character is vividly portrayed by Posy Sterling – she is frightening and heart-rending. And (of course) Leigh is a victim of abuse herself. In this substitute daughter for Mary, Bruce balances frustration and compassion, which serves as an example of how complex the relationships in her play are.

“Make peace or make trouble”

Mary, Julie, and Bernie juggle with the decision to “make peace or make trouble”, with fear leading to damaging decisions. It’s easy to judge, but the drama gives us a chance to stop and question. It is Mary’s stepdaughter, Briana, who has proved the father’s nemesis – her actions led to the court case that imprisoned Mary. Briana’s self-care, mantras and all, make the character jar – at first. But with the aid of Alison Fitzjohn’s charismatic performance, she becomes an inspirational figure who helps herself and others.

There is a danger that each character in the play represents a response to issues, but this potential flaw is avoided through surprising humour and the strong performances. A motif of the house itself being a witness to events fails to convince or make the most of Kat Heath’s ambitious set – the idea feels tacked on. And it must be admitted that, dramatically, there are alarms but no surprises in Dixon and Daughters – the play is depressingly predictable. Nonetheless, by broadening her concern to misogyny Bruce highlights the systemic and cruel nature of male power with incredible authority.

Until 10 June 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org

Photos by Helen Murray

2023

“Phaedra” at the National Theatre

This new play is inspired by works from Euripides, Seneca and Racine, but director and writer Simon Stone’s ambition is to present a story for our times. Brimming with contemporary concerns, in an arguably self-conscious fashion, this production is superbly performed and perfectly stylish.

First up, there’s privilege. For Phaedra we have Helen, a successful and wealthy politician full of charisma and undoubtedly powerful. It’s a change to the source material that makes sense and, taking the title role, Janet McTeer has a regal quality. You can picture the admiration, and envy, of those around her.

The family Helen dominates is Stone’s idea of the liberal elite – oh-so erudite and out of touch. The dinner table has conflict and quotes – Helen’s son, daughter and husband are full of wit and neurosis. Their chat is funny, but it might be hard to relate to this family, especially given Chloe Lamford’s design.

The set is a glass box (remember Yerma?) but, here, it rotates. The sense of voyeurism engendered is intense. It’s with the sound design that the eye-catching idea comes into its own – characters can talk over one another and speak at volumes not normally possible on stage.

Into the mix comes Sofiane, the son of Helen’s long-deceased lover. Everyone’s lives start to get messy (do they have real problems for a change?).  While Assaad Bouab has great presence in the role, bringing a magnetism to match McTeer, I’m not sure his character is really the ‘enigma’ the play claims. Open about motivations and desires, Sofiane is also very clearly a vehicle for the topic of colonialism.

Sirine-Saba-and-Assaad-Bouab-in-Phaedra-at-the-National-Theatre-Photo-by-Johan-Persson
Sirine Saba and Assaad Bouab

Intersecting with Helen’s privilege, voiceovers from Sofiane’s father (that fill in scene changes) are fantastic. But if the intention was to give the colonised experience a voice, then more is needed. Thankfully, the final scenes in Morocco are excellent and there’s a starring role for Sofiane’s wife. Also good is the fascinating role for Helen’s friend and colleague Omolara – a brilliant Akiya Henry – who roots the play by being removed from the heady action.

Akiya-Henry-in-Phaedra-at-the-National-Theatre-Photo-by-Johan-Persson
Akiya Henry

When it comes to the passion Phaedra is famous for, whether it convinces a modern audience is an open question. Nowadays, we have a short list of taboos – would Helen’s actions really have ended her career? More interestingly, there is an engagement with the theme of compromise in the play that is appropriate in our polarised times.

The lust Helen experiences leads to great drama – this show is exciting. Framing selfish actions as a protest against ageism and misogyny is a confrontational strategy. But is the finale surprisingly conservative? As in his source material, the woman must be punished. And, in the end, for all its qualities, that makes Phaedra feel old-fashioned.

Until 8 April 2023

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

2022

“Kerry Jackson” at the National Theatre

If you are already tired of seasonal fare – there’s a lot of Christmas carolling going on in theatreland at the moment – this clever class comedy is a gift. With no Santa in sight, it’s a smart play from April De Angelis – and briskly directed by Indhu Rubasingham – that’s full of good jokes.

The titular heroine is a new restaurant owner and fine comic creation that makes a cracking part for Fay Ripley. Initially presented as a working-class cliché, Kerry overshares outrageously, and her every view is politically incorrect. And Kerry can be clueless – she’s called the business El Barco and put a mural of a shipwreck on the wall. You almost feel bad for laughing… but laugh you will. How much can we admire determination based on delusions?

The location is gentrified Walthamstow Village – cue class conflict – where local philosophy teacher Stephen and his Gen-Z daughter (skilfully performed by Michael Gould and Kitty Hawthorne) live. De Angelis is just as sharp about these hand-wringing liberals and the result just as funny. Since they are grieving for their wife and mother, there’s more sympathy, cleverly nurtured. But Kerry’s gaffs, delivered brilliantly by Ripley, are just all the more cringeworthy.

A homeless man called Will and Kerry’s talented chef, Athena, bring problems that connect to class and introduce topical ‘issues’ to the play. This is a piece obsessed with privilege… which can prove tiresome. Will’s objectional politics and Athena’s immigration status should give other characters pause for thought. The suggestion is that politics, both left and right, can’t deal with these real-life problems. Credit comes from dealing with the topics in depth, and creating two more great roles that Madeline Appiah and Michael Fox excel in. Yet it seems impossible for playwrights to introduce ‘privilege’ without seeming to lecture. And, in this play, that really stands out.

It’s Kerry who counts and, to De Angelis’ credit, she is an unusual figure to see take centre stage. It’s not as if a lot of sense is talked, and Kerry’s romances are improbable (there’s another love interest for her – an uncomfortable role that Gavin Spokes does well with). Furthermore, Kerry has a very nasty side. It’s a further tribute to Ripley that the character rides through a disappointing tirade. Again, Angelis is even handed – there’s a comeuppance for Stephen and a softer approach to the younger generation that shows a generous spirit. Kerry Jackson does tick boxes but is specific enough to convince (the detail is great). There’s plenty to digest, not least when it comes to Kerry’s tiramisu. And it gets a lot of laughs along the way.

Until 28 January 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

2022

“The Crucible” at the National Theatre

Lyndsey Turner’s new production of Arthur Miller’s classic looks and sounds great – no small achievement given its famous setting of seventeenth century Salem run by Puritans. Design supremo Es Devlin uses a lot of rain onstage while Tim Lutkin’s superb lighting also impresses. The music from Caroline Shaw is good – a mix of hymns and background soundscape that is atmospheric but not too spooky. Behind the fancy touches is a solid production of an excellent play.

There’s nothing faddish when it comes to a revival (if that happens to concern you). For Miller, the historic witch hunts are a parallel to McCarthyism in the 1950s. Turner doesn’t stretch to any twist. I thought the crazy children, who say they have seen devil and end up “jangling the keys of the kingdom” might provide a spin. But the audience can make up its own connections – thank you – Miller’s study of hysteria and revenge is powerful enough.

Turner has confidence in the piece. Miller’s preface and an afterword are added, pretty neutral inclusions in my opinion. Respect for the text is referential (after all, it really is brilliant) and despite ending up a long evening, the production is gripping.

The key is not to question how credible events seemed. The accusations the girls make are going to raise eyebrows nowadays – could people really believe them? Likewise, the twisted logic of the theocracy that falls for their tricks: yes, the idea of dancing was scandalous! But the dark motives in the play are serious and Turner aids the piece’s gravitas.

Brendan-Cowell-and-Rachelle-Diedericks-in-The-Crucible-at-the-Naitonal-Theatre
Brendan Cowell and Rachelle Diedericks

The younger cast members do a great job when it comes to a degree of restraint – not easy when you are supposed to be possessed by the devil. The leader of the pack – Abigail -seems far from “wild” and her cohort Mary suitably scared through strong performances from Erin Doherty and Rachelle Diedericks. There is a sense neither girl really knows what they are doing but are carried along by events.

It’s the adults in the show who are the focus. A suitably bland Paris, the community’s minister, becomes increasingly manic in a controlled performance from Nick Fletcher. John Proctor, the play’s flawed hero, takes a back seat: Brendan Cowell must wait until the very end to shine. Instead, it’s his wife, played by the excellent Eileen Walsh whose steely self-righteousness interests more. Walsh suggests the power as well as the costs obtained from the character’s “cold” persona.

Erin-Doherty-and-Fisayo-Akinade-in-the-Crucible-at-the-National-Theatre
Erin Doherty and Fisayo Akinade

Above all, the court itself is the focal point. More than just the villains of the play, Miller is careful to present the arguments of those who come to judge. There are two figures with different journeys here: the Governor Danforth (played expertly by Matthew Marsh) who balances arrogance with conviction. And an excellent Reverend Hale – a great performance from Fisayo Akinade – whose flip between repentance and cynicism when he realises the disaster he is embroiled in, is brilliantly done. It’s these figures of authority that interest most  – and Turner interrogates them superbly.

Until 5 November 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Johan Persson

2022

“Jack Absolute Flies Again” at the National Theatre

Richard Bean and Oliver Chris are back on the South Bank. Eight years after their smash hit show, One Man, Two Guvnors, the writing team have taken on Richard Brinsley Sheridan’s 18th-century comedy The Rivals. It’s the same smart, irreverent humour with blue tones and knowing touches. And it’s very funny.

Setting the action on the eve of the Battle of Britain (Covid delayed the show, which would have been anniversary-appropriate) works well. There’s plenty of commentary on class – which Bean and Chris love. And the relative liberation women experienced during war time is used neatly. Above all, there are many easy jokes about the period that are mined to the max.

James-Corrigan,-Jordan-Metcalfe,-Laurie-Davidson-and-Akshay-Sharan-in-Jack-Absolute-Flies-Again
James Corrigan, Jordan Metcalfe, Laurie Davidson and Akshay Sharan

Instead of setting the play in Bath, the location is Mrs Malaprop’s country home, requisitioned by the RAF. The pilots seem like a pretty useless bunch of men (what fun) – especially when it comes to romance. A clueless toff, a clever Indian and a crass Australian all get jokes, although they are predictable. It’s appealing performances from James Corrigan, Jordan Metcalfe and Akshay Sharan that make these roles work. The titular lead comes across as bland, despite Laurie Davidson’s efforts. It’s Jack’s father who impresses, with Peter Forbes delivering a rousing performance as the bumptious army major who has some great one-liners. He’s short tempered and misogynistic but he’s a great guy!

The women do much better, even if the big joke is them wanting (or not) to be ‘modern’. Natalie Simpson, as the show’s siren Lydia Languish, deals with some very long lines very well. Sheridan had his heroine obsessed with romance – this time it’s the desire for a socialist future. Lydia’s target is a working-class man from Up North and she wants to open a lemon farming commune in Barnsley.

Bean and Chris’ odder moments are my preference. Even if the jokes don’t get as many laughs, they are original and unexpected. A preoccupation with geography is endearing. A riff on war wounds even manages to be sweet (kind of). The set, designed by Mark Thompson, echoes unusual perspectives with childlike appeal thrown in.

The maid, played by Kerry Howard, has a few too many jokes about the theatre (she’s a self-proclaimed dramatic device) but is excellent. The star of the show is Caroline Quentin as Mrs Malaprop. The updated malapropisms are strong (my favourite was Mexican for lexicon) and they are delivered superbly: Quentin saves some of the weaker (usually bluer) ones with delicious confidence.

Director Emily Burns keeps the action moving swiftly but with a (slightly) calmer, more contemplative undercurrent than that previously mentioned big hit. Bean and Chris cleverly ensure our respect for the pilots increases as the play goes on. And they have a brave ending that earns them respect, too. Jack Absolute Flies Again is more of an ensemble piece (James Cordon was ably supported but was very much the focus). If this show doesn’t sell as many tickets as One Man, Two Guvnors, it still might be a better play.

Until 3 September 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Brinkhoff-Moegenburg

2022

“Much Ado About Nothing” at the National Theatre

Simon Godwin’s solid production of Shakespeare’s comedy is perfect for the summer. Setting a play about confusion and miscommunication in a hotel add a farcical, holiday vibe. With live music and an intelligent nod to the play’s self-referentiality, it all adds up to a fine show. The casting of John Heffernan and Katherine Parkinson makes the evening well above average.

Heffernan and Parkinson are great as the enemies-to-lovers Benedict and Beatrice. From the start, Benedict’s man-about-town act as a confirmed bachelor is only skin deep – which adds to the humour. Heffernan ensures we can tell Benedict is a sweet cynic. As surely everyone’s favourite Shakespearean heroine, Parkinson is suitably spiky but brings an interesting edge to the role. Together their “merry war of words” is fantastic.

Ioanna-Kimbook-and-Phoebe-Horn-in-Much-Ado-About-Nothing-credit-Manuel-Harlan
Ioanna Kimbook and Phoebe Horn

It may be ungenerous to point out that the leads’ comic timing is considerably better than the rest of the cast – but it is noticeable. There is firm support for them, especially a good Don Pedro in Ashley Zhangazha, who makes plans for mischief believable. The play’s second love story has a sweet Hero in Ioanna Kimbook and her maid manages ever better – Phoebe Horn makes the most of Margaret’s every moment.

It’s all jolly and it looks great – Anna Fleischle and Evie Gurney’s set and costume designs are a pleasure – but it might be a little slow? A lot of pace is lost with Dogberry, a head of security here, despite David Fynn’s efforts. (And if you want better malapropisms, then head next door for Jack Absolute Flies Again.) The curtain for the interval falls at the moment of the play’s nasty deception, when the marriage of Hero and Claudio is put at risk by the plotting villain Don John. This can be the point where you lose patience with the play (or is that just me?).

Happily, and unusually, the action then takes off. Heffernan is very good at Benedict’s macho moments and Parkinson shows us how deeply Beatrice feels. Kimbook also comes into her own (especially during a scene change).

It’s still not clear why Hero’s lover Claudio, who has treated her so badly, is forgiven (Eben Figueiredo, who takes the role, seems puzzled, too). I guess that’s really Shakespeare’s fault. Godwin deals thoughtfully with the play’s flaws. After the tension, the relief of a party works well. Even Dogberry, recast as a lounge singer, is welcome. The celebration may be brief but as a finale it’s fantastic.

Until 10 September 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by Manuel Harlan

2022

“Hex” at the National Theatre

This ambitious new musical, an updated Sleeping Beauty, is a triumph for its designers. The Gothic-cartoonish costumes by Katrina Lindsay are superb. The lighting design by Paul Anderson is sublime. And the staging, from director Rufus Norris, is big and bold. If the show as a whole is underwhelming, it succeeds as a treat for the eyes.

Alas, how Hex looks is the best bit. Jim Fortune’s music is interesting and adventurous, but the show lacks big numbers and all the songs are poorly served by Norris’ lyrics. Tanya Ronder’s book has its moments, but twists on the tale either tire or aren’t explored. The motif of interior and exterior beauty is worthy but feels tacked on. And Ronder seems determined that we shouldn’t like the characters!

A fairy who loses her power is a great idea. But we aren’t given much reason to sympathise with this leading role. Of course, it’s great to see Rosalie Craig, who takes the part, on a stage. But her schizophrenic fairy doesn’t develop and – no matter how forcefully Craig sings – this can’t be disguised.

There’s a similar problem with our Sleeping Beauty (Kat Ronney) who is too much the spoiled brat and belts out every note. I had high hopes for her parents (I’d love to hear more from both Daisy Maywood and Shaq Taylor), but these roles desperately need another number.

An ogress as a mother is another idea with potential. And Tamsin Carroll’s performance is tremendous. But a song about coming to terms with eating your grandchildren – a kind of cannibal La Cage aux Folles – is simply a puzzle.

Throughout, there are moments that please. Having the thorns surrounding Sleeping Beauty come to life is great. As is a collection of Princes, who wake up and wonder what to do with their lives – these two groups have the best chorography and bring some fun.

It’s unfortunate for Hex that London has had another new fairy tale, in Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cinderella, so recently (and that Lloyd Webber got in first). Hex is smart and funny, too – but nothing new. Irreverent twists, strong female characters, and masculinity to laugh at are great, but we can see it all coming. So, the only real magic emerges from the strong design work. And that isn’t magic enough.

Until 22 January 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org

Photo by Brinkoff-Möegenburg

2022

“Trouble In Mind” at the National Theatre

Alice Childress’ 1955 play takes us behind the scenes of a Broadway show about racism in the American South. Focusing on the theatre, Trouble In Mind gets to the heart of issues about representation that are topical and important. And it does so with passion, intelligence and wit.

Childress’ anger isn’t hard to spot. There are difficult moments as the cast explores the play it is rehearsing. The story of one actor, who witnessed a lynching as a child, is incredibly powerful (Cyril Nri does this pivotal scene justice). Frustration with the play within the play – its skewered view of African American life – is compounded by the aggressions the performers face as they work with white colleagues, for a white audience.

The debate is nuanced even if Childress’ opinions are clear. Care is taken to make sure the show’s director character is no straw man. Objectionable, insufferable even, and a figure of fun, the performance from Rory Keenan makes sure we still take what he has to say seriously. Arguments about the compromises supposedly needed to get the show on stage are given space.

It is the humour in the show that makes it memorable. Trouble in Mind is a very funny play. All the hypocrisy could be painful but is brilliantly handled by both Childress and the production’s director Nancy Medina. Asides, verbal and physical, get laughs as well as provoking thought and showing tension. Naana Agyei-Ampadu’s performance as the formidable Millie is magnificent – a great character, superbly rendered.

Tanya Moodie’s performance in the lead role of Wiletta deserves the greatest praise. Having excelled in the role before, Moodie lives as much as performs the part. That’s an amazing achievement, given how the character flips from being a duplicitous old theatre hand to an exposed novice who wants to really act and do “something grand”.

The relationship with old and new colleagues (strong performances from Gary Lilburn and Daniel Adeosun, pictured) is a joy to watch. Wiletta is warm but steely, open yet suspicious, from one moment to the next. Moodie’s performance is one of the best I’ve seen – anytime and anywhere – and is a five-star experience that is not to be missed. 

Until 29 January 2022

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photo by Johan Persson