Tag Archives: Johan Persson

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

★★★★★

Orange Tree Theatre

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

Orange Tree Theatre

★★★★★

“an exceptionally polished production, beautifully staged, superbly written and flawlessly performed”

Even one hundred and thirty years after his death, we still haven’t got the pronunciation of Vincent Van Gogh’s name quite right (the Americans are even further off the mark). Which is why Vincent initially introduces himself as ‘Mr Vincent’ in Nicholas Wright’s subtly evocative and brilliantly crafted play “Vincent in Brixton”. Vincent’s frustration is matched by his bewilderment at the English way of life, coupled with a desire to fit in. “I’m learning diplomatic English” he proudly proclaims. But there are other barriers too, most notably his innocent directness and tactlessness – a raw naivety that exposes secrets. This often starts him off on the wrong foot, but Dutch actor Jeroen Frank Kales paints a profoundly endearing picture of the post-impressionist painter in all his eccentricity and candour.

We are in Brixton in the 1870s, where the young Vincent has arrived to work as an art dealer for his family’s business. His heart isn’t in it (we soon learn that his heart is elsewhere) and his own latent artistic talent is still yet to be realised. He moves into the home of widowed teacher Ursula Loyer (Niamh Cusack) and her daughter, Eugenie (Ayesha Ostler). Unaware that Eugenie is secretly and romantically entangled with fellow lodger Sam Plowman (Rawaed Asde), Vincent immediately falls for her with brash inappropriateness, only to rapidly transfer his affections to her mother. It all sounds a touch callous and furtive, but the writing and the acting is so faultlessly accomplished and convincing that what unfolds is a touching story of the transforming power of love. Cusack, dressed in black and still mourning her late husband after fifteen years, shifts from melancholy to pure radiance that has our hearts beating with joy (temporarily… there are twists and reveals in the script that you need to go and find out for yourself).

The attention to detail is extraordinary. Designer Charlotte Henery’s nineteenth century lodging house is beautifully created. Take note – dine well before seeing this show; the aromas of melting butter and roasting lamb will have you salivating while a meal is prepared in real time. References to Van Gogh’s future works are ingeniously and discreetly slotted into the dialogue and the blocking (look out for the pair of boots). Wright has created an artwork in itself, which director Georgia Green has framed with an artist’s eye for perfection.

The story may or may not be true. The events are historically accurate, but the affairs are speculative, yet in this company’s hands they are convincingly real and heartfelt. Kales’ merciless honesty is lovable and hilarious in equal measure. It never takes long for him to smooth the bristles he invariably triggers in others. Ostler’s Eugenie demonstrates the right mix of disdain and affection, while Sam is unfazed by the intrusion and potential rivalry. Asde plays him with a cheeky grin and a sparkling glint in his eye, self-assured in himself but hesitant in his ambitions. The arrival of Vincent’s sister, Anna, is like a brisk wind that has crossed the North Sea. A masterstroke of casting, Amber Van Der Brugge bears a striking resemblance to Kales, along with the same unfiltered, bull-in-a-china-shop way with words, albeit more extreme and officious. Righteous and evangelistic, she drops bombshells as though cracking eggs for a light breakfast. The humour is reinforced by some of Wright’s glorious one-liners, yet we are never detracted from the heart of the story.

This heart belongs to Cusack and Kales. The dynamics seemingly unfeigned and the incongruous passion believably touching. “A woman does not grow old as long as she loves and is loved”, wrote the real Vincent in a letter to his brother. The sentiment is a leitmotif that runs through the play, but it never becomes a sentimental platitude. We are left unsure as to whether the love lasts – a symbolic, candle-snuffing cue to blackout hints at an ending – yet the feeling of joy remains long after curtain call. “Vincent in Brixton” is an exceptionally polished production, beautifully staged, superbly written and flawlessly performed. Chaotic and intimate, complex but quotidianly accessible. Biographical dramas often fail to convince in an effort to cover too much epic ground. By focusing on a snapshot, whether true to life or not, we are rewarded with a vibrant portrait of life, love and art. What more can you ask for? An unmissable show – although I regret to say that, unless you have bought your ticket already, you may have missed your chance.



VINCENT IN BRIXTON

Orange Tree Theatre

Reviewed on 20th March 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson


 

 

 

 

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

BIRD GROVE

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

BIRD GROVE

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“a confident production, keen to entertain and doing so with ease”

As a debate rages about the death of reading, award-winning playwright Alexi Kaye Campbell comes at us with an easily digestible and endlessly spirited primer on George Eliot.

This new play comes bookended with a slice of drawing room farce at the beginning to ease us in – think Malvolio courting Elizabeth Bennet – and a curiously on-the-nose coda at the end. This is in case we still haven’t figured out that headstrong Mary Ann Evans is destined to become the author of Middlemarch under a gender-swapping nom de plume.

For the most part, though, this is an engrossing and serious study of a young woman loved and wronged repeatedly; a victim of her age, her sex and her voracious curiosity.

To 1840s Coventry then, and Bird Grove, for this fact-based origin story.

The setting (Sarah Beaton) conveys an elegant five rooms simply devised on a rotating stage. This is the home of Robert Evans (Owen Teale) who has worked all his life to acquire such a property, a bowerbird’s nest in which to show off his unmarried daughter Mary Ann (Elizabeth Dulau).

But bird’s fly and nests are emptied, and that is certainly in the mind of Mary Ann who decides one day, after much turmoil, not to accompany her father to church. She doesn’t believe in the dogma of religion nor the marketplace of singletons.

The declaration is shocking.

In the face of this stand, one is stubborn, the other is wilful. And vice versa.

They are barely separate creatures in that regard.

Despite the fissure, there is always a chance of rapprochement. It is beautifully touching that twice widowed Robert Evans is exasperated and infuriated by his daughter’s defiance – but also proud in his own contained way.

He is a simple man, plain spoken, a grafter of no great insight. Except in this matter.

When smug allies and “free thinkers” Mr and Mrs Bray (Tom Espiner and Rebecca Scroggs) try to arbitrate, they list Mary Ann’s many talents. He has the perfect riposte to their snobbery.

“You are intelligent people and astute at least in spotting my daughter’s genius, but how astounding that you have not entertained the notion that I have spotted it myself.”

It’s true. An estate manager by profession, he knows how to rescue pigs from their own muck, but he also knows what possesses his daughter, even though he cannot fully come to terms with her significance.

Despite a nine-strong cast, the play is a classic double act of opposites – young and old, parent and child, traditional and progressive – rendering the early toilet troubles of silly suitor Horace Garfield (a winning Jonnie Broadbent) and other farcical diversions into something forgettable.

The chemistry, diffidence and opposition of father and daughter is key. Owen Teale as Robert is a towering man, a thunderous spirit and yet strangely uncertain for much of the play. But he discovers a resounding and unshakeable timbre when his convictions are truly challenged.

And Elizabeth Dulau as Mary Ann is as bright and fresh as the country morning – perspicacious, revolutionary, chafing at the yoke and aching to meet her destiny. If Dulau wasn’t a star already – thanks to Andor – this performance would bring her to notice. She embodies the duel of duty and ambition but retains crystal clarity throughout.

There are some quirks in the production – the language is a hybrid of formality and modern idioms and the business with the French mesmerist (James Staddon) seems – again – unnecessary. Meanwhile, Anna Ledwich’s graceful direction can sometimes become stilted.

But this is a confident production, keen to entertain and doing so with ease.

 



BIRD GROVE

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd February 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Johan Persson


 

 

 

 

BIRD GROVE

BIRD GROVE

BIRD GROVE