Tag Archives: Almeida Theatre

A DOLL’S HOUSE

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

A DOLL’S HOUSE

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“the performances are solid and nuanced”

At one point, Nora, drowning in debt and deception, dances in a sexy nurse outfit for her husband and her best friend – two birds with one stone.

Spoiler alert: it is a profoundly unsexy moment. Nora is too freighted with distress to be a fantasy figure, the men too bovine in their strangled lusts to be enchanted.

Real life intrudes and breaks down the illusion into its humdrum parts.

Besides, Nora is too smart to surrender to the pretence. That, in miniature, is the problem she is trying to outrun: life as performance.

Anya Reiss’s update of A Doll’s House places Nora and Torvald in the upper tiers of London finance, where the money is large, the margins tight, and the optics everything.

They are on the cusp of cashing out but the deal is not yet done. Until then, they are living as if the millions are already in the bank. The house is full of Christmas credit card sprees and the mood just shy of panic.

The plot does not need much adjustment from Henrik Ibsen’s original, except that here the women are more clearly the authors of their own misfortune. Nora has committed a financial crime to keep her husband afloat through addiction and recovery. Her husband doesn’t know. It would ruin him. Nils, an employee with a precarious foothold on his own life, opts for blackmail. From there, the screws tighten in familiar ways.

Romola Garai plays ersatz yummy mummy Nora as someone always a fraction ahead of herself but gaining no advantage from the foreknowledge. She dominates the play. Her performance is agitated and magnetic, managing not just her secret but the version of herself that makes the rest of this fakery possible.

Tom Mothersdale’s Torvald is all nervous control. His authority rests on things continuing to go well. He is a man clinging to love, money and illusion with desperation rather than joy. His history of addiction is not overplayed, but it colours everything, especially his hostility to James Corrigan’s Nils. Corrigan gives Nils a sweaty directness the others often avoid. He knows what he wants and says so, where the rest sustain the lie for as long as the lie remains viable.

Reiss threads in contemporary detail. They live on their phones, sealed in a kind of high-end white bunker, with real life kept at bay. Their only connections are via Instagram. The children remain offstage, heard but not seen, and at one point Nora frets that she is simply performing motherhood via FaceTime.

Around the central pair, the performances are solid and nuanced. Thalissa Teixeira’s downbeat Kristine – the most sympathetic in a parade of slithering grotesques – offers a steadier presence and some semblance of hope. Olivier Huband’s Petter Rank, who lusts after Nora, is mostly insufferable.

Director Joe Hill-Gibbins ensures the drama builds cleanly. By the final confrontation, when Nora has no choice but to tell Torvald the truth, there is nothing left to hide behind. The resolution misfires somewhat – the tone all over the place – which leads to deflation rather than explosion.

What remains, however, is a sense of drenching anxiety. This is Snakes on a Plane for the banking set.



A DOLL’S HOUSE

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 9th April 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Marc Brenner


 

 

 

 

A DOLL’S HOUSE

A DOLL’S HOUSE

A DOLL’S HOUSE

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

★★★½

Almeida Theatre

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

Almeida Theatre

★★★½

“Grandage’s direction captures the intoxicating glamour and moral decay of 1980s London”

Should we love people for their beauty, or are people made beautiful through being loved? That is one of the central questions of The Line of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst’s Booker Prize-winning novel, now given its first stage adaptation at the Almeida.

After a seven-year publishing hiatus, Hollinghurst’s 2024 novel Our Evenings reminded readers of his deft treatment of class, race and sexuality in late 20th-century Britain. This adaptation of his 2004 masterpiece, directed by Michael Grandage and adapted by Jack Holden, feels timely again: a period piece that still captures the social anxieties and desires of the present.

The story follows Nick Guest (Jasper Talbot), a young Oxford graduate who moves into the London home of his friend Toby Fedden’s family between 1983 and 1987. The Feddens seem gracious hosts: Gerald (Charles Edwards), a newly minted Tory MP on the up in Thatcher’s Britain, and Rachel (Claudia Harrison), the moneyed, quietly controlling matriarch. Yet beneath their polished hospitality lies an unease—Nick’s sexuality is tolerated rather than embraced, and despite his education and charm, he remains forever an outsider.

The production’s strongest moments come in the first act, contrasting Nick’s initiation into the Feddens’ rarefied world with his tender, complex relationship with Leo (a wonderful Alistair Nwachukwu), his first boyfriend. The class and racial dynamics between them are finely drawn: to the Feddens, Nick is gauche and provincial; to Leo, he represents privilege and aspiration. Their dinner scene at Leo’s family home is the play’s emotional heart, Doreene Blackstock is superb as Leo’s devout Jamaican mother, layering issues of class, race, sexuality and faith with undeniable warmth.

Adam Cork’s sound design brilliantly anchors the production in its era. 80s pop anthems throb through the set, evoking the ecstasy and danger of the decade. Subtler choices are just as effective: a soft echo added to conversations in country estates conjures a chilling sense of distance and grandeur. Christopher Oram’s costumes complete the world—corduroy trousers, baggy shirts, and side ponytails secured with satin scrunchies perfectly capturing the aesthetic of the age.

The play can feel overstuffed. A vast array of characters and subplots race through a decade of shifting politics and private betrayals. Some secondary roles are barely glimpsed, though “Old Pete” (Matt Mella), Leo’s older ex-lover, leaves a lasting impression in just a few minutes on stage.

There are clunky moments: stylised scene transitions, on-the-nose symbolism (a line of cocaine mirroring the “line of beauty”), and some heavy-handed dialogue. And Talbot as Nick feels like a vessel for the audience to view this world rather than a hero: passive, and at times insipidly submissive, forever observing beauty rather than creating it. But Grandage’s direction captures the intoxicating glamour and moral decay of 1980s London, while Arty Froushan’s totally tragic Wani brings a raw vulnerability to the later scenes.

In the end, as the impact of the AIDS pandemic draws closer in and the hypocrisies of wealth and politics are laid bare, Nick’s exile feels inevitable. On the whole this adaptation of The Line of Beauty is a thoughtful, sensuous reflection on love, class and the price of belonging.



THE LINE OF BEAUTY

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 30th October 2025

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Johan Persson


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ROMANS | ★★★½ | September 2025
A MOON FOR THE MISBEGOTTEN | ★★★★★ | June 2025
1536 | ★★★★ | May 2025
RHINOCEROS | ★★★★ | April 2025
OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025

 

 

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

THE LINE OF BEAUTY