THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE HUMAN VOICE

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“an elegant and remarkably economical production that makes the two works feel like parts of the same tragic story”

Two very different operas become a compelling portrait of one woman in this elegant double bill. Kurt Weill and Bertolt Brecht’s The Seven Deadly Sins follows Anna as she travels through the cities of America, earning enough money for her parents back home. In Francis Poulenc and Jean Cocteau’s The Human Voice, a woman faces the end of a love affair during a single, devastating telephone conversation. In director Alejandro Bonatto’s production, the woman at the centre of The Human Voice becomes another chapter in Anna’s story, with both roles performed by soprano Katherine McIndoe.

The decision to stage The Seven Deadly Sins without its ballet element, particularly the second Anna, inevitably reduces the sense of duality at the heart of the original conception. At the same time, it places greater emphasis on the sung narrative, with the compacted musical sequences driving the action forward. The result is less about two versions of Anna in dialogue with one another and more about following a single woman’s journey.

Continuing with the scaled-down production, Anna has only her mother, baritone Phil Wilcox, and father, tenor Harry Grigg, with the pair also taking on the roles of her lovers. Both bring a strong sense of theatricality, with Wilcox’s deliberately camp, drag-housewife quality as Anna’s mother particularly adding to the humour, while Grigg brings an equally assured presence as her father. Their performances bring out both the comedy and darker undercurrents of Anna’s journey.

The connection with The Human Voice is an imaginative one. Cocteau’s central character is simply ‘Elle’, allowing the production to make its own connection between the two women. The handwritten cards naming each sin continue into the second opera, where ‘Love’ becomes an additional ‘sin’. This was not part of the original conception of The Human Voice, but here it provides a neat dramatic link. Having sacrificed so much of herself in pursuit of money and survival, Anna has eventually staked everything that remains on one relationship. When that collapses, there is nowhere else for her to turn.

McIndoe faces an extraordinary vocal and dramatic challenge across both works. Weill demands incredible diction and enunciation, with the words cutting through the music and carrying the sharpness of the text, while Poulenc allows for a much more lyrical vocal line. The contrast moves effectively from the theatrical energy and humour of the first opera to the increasing intimacy of the second. The moment when McIndoe comes to sit on the edge of the stage is particularly effective, stripping away some of the theatricality and allowing Anna’s vulnerability to come fully to the fore. Her performance brings out the wit, humour and sensuality of the first opera, as well as the growing desperation and heartbreak of the second.

The production design is economical but expressive. Grey drapes surround the stage, with shadow work involving Anna’s parents behind the leather settee where she often performs, suggesting their ever-present influence and the world she has left behind. Two black grand pianos face each other across the rear of the stage, with percussion hidden between them until the curtain is removed later in the first opera. Anna’s sweet dress when she leaves Louisiana gives way to a silky two-piece shortie pyjama set and black negligee gown, with her jewellery charting the material rewards of her new life. For The Human Voice, the mirror, percussion and one piano disappear and the telephone emerges from beneath the sofa. The physical world has contracted, just as Anna’s life has, while the older Anna’s cream silk pyjamas create a visual link between the two works.

The musicians handle the contrasting scores with equal assurance. Adrian Salinero and Elspeth Wilkes share the piano parts in The Seven Deadly Sins, with Kepa Malgorzata providing percussion, while Wilkes takes the piano for The Human Voice, with Salinero joining for one movement on flute. Weill’s sharp-edged theatricality and rhythmic energy give way to Poulenc’s more fluid and lyrical score, reflecting the very different moods of the two operas.

Ultimately, this is more than a pairing of two very different operas. By presenting The Human Voice as another chapter in Anna’s story, Bonatto creates a portrait of a woman who spends the first part sacrificing herself in pursuit of money and survival, only to find herself with nothing left when the relationship she has staked everything on comes to an end. It is an elegant and remarkably economical production that makes the two works feel like parts of the same tragic story.

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE HUMAN VOICE

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 12th September 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Adam King

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS

★★★

“Ambitious and undoubtedly well-intentioned”

Wartime heroes are often reduced to a handful of facts: names, missions, acts of courage and sometimes the date of their death. Stephanie Street’s a small and quiet light attempts to look beyond those headlines, bringing the extraordinary life of Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan, the first female radio operator sent undercover into occupied France by Britain’s Special Operations Executive, into intimate focus. Betrayed and captured in Paris in 1943, Noor faces interrogation and almost certain death.

The play moves between the interrogation room and memories of Noor’s childhood, young adulthood in Paris and her wartime service, gradually revealing a quiet, determined and courageous woman. Yet it only brushes the surface of a life that offers considerably more dramatic material. The dialogue is often overly explicit, while the production rarely generates the energy or passion needed to make Noor’s story feel truly urgent. For all that is at stake, there are times when it is difficult not to wonder: what is the point of it all?

At its heart, a small and quiet light should be a compelling story of courage and sacrifice, but the play remains frustratingly straightforward. Noor’s mixed Indian and American heritage is referenced, although it is unclear what significance the play intends it to have. Her father leaving the family to return to India when she was 13 and the fact that she had a fiancé before the war are also mentioned but barely explored. These details could have added greater depth to the story and it is frustrating that these glimpses are not explored further.

The decision to use an all-female cast is laudable, but its execution creates another barrier. Elin Schofield’s direction does not always provide enough clarity between the multiple roles, and we often have to wait for dialogue to establish who a character is and sometimes even whether they are male or female. Costume, physicality and vocal characterisation do not always do enough to distinguish the roles. This becomes particularly disappointing in a potentially poignant sequence towards the end, when it is not immediately clear what gender a group of people is meant to be, or even whether we have encountered them before.

A similar issue occurs in the first flashback, when Noor’s age is unclear. When the action flashes back to 1926, the same actress and costume are used and, although we understand that Noor is meant to be a child, the physical and vocal characterisation do little to establish that she is 12. It is a strange choice given that Kiah Arya is listed as Young Noor, although confusingly only appears as young Noor towards the end.

Priyanga Burford carries the production as Noor, bringing warmth and a quiet determination to a demanding role that takes her through decades of Noor’s life. Caoilfhionn Dunne is excellent as Vogt, Noor’s interrogator. Their interrogation, stretching from day one through to day 44, develops an unexpected arc of mutual respect, weariness and something approaching friendship. Dunne brings a subtle complexity to the relationship, making their increasingly personal exchanges among the production’s strongest material.

Anna Yates’ set and costume design is relatively simple. A raised platform surrounds a lower square well with a metal grid floor, which works particularly effectively as the interrogation room and prison but is adapted for other locations too. Piano stools, reflecting Noor’s love of music, create additional seating areas while concealing props. Costumes are generally appropriate to the period, although Noor’s much-talked-about blue suit for the wartime escapades is worn throughout, making that particular plot point feel rather pointless.

Ultimately, a small and quiet light is a disappointing production of a story that deserves to be more compelling. Noor-un-Nisa Inayat Khan’s life is extraordinary, but the play too often tells us why we should find it extraordinary rather than allowing us to experience that through the drama itself. Ambitious and undoubtedly well-intentioned, a small and quiet light leaves the frustrating feeling that there is a far more powerful play about Noor waiting to be made.

Tag Archives: Ellen Cheshire

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS and THE HUMAN VOICE

★★★★

Charing Cross Theatre

THE SEVEN DEADLY SINS AND THE HUMAN VOICE

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“an elegant and remarkably economical production that makes the two works feel like parts of the same tragic story”