★★★★★

“balances spectacle with subtlety, and resonates with emotional depth”

The chances we miss often haunt us hardest. ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’ is a tender, heartbreaking, profoundly human new musical offering new chances for those brave enough to take them.

Weighed down by years of regret, Harold Fry learns an old friend is dying. Though initially hesitant, Harold realises there may be time to put one thing right. So begins an unexpected journey, rekindling the joys of living on the way. But can he reach her in time – and what truths await if he does?

Rachel Joyce’s ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’, adapted with Peter Darling and Katy Rudd, with dramaturgy by Nick Sidi, is a profound exploration of pain, forgiveness and renewal. A strikingly honesty portrait of self made prisons, it creates and unravels Harold’s uneasy mythology with impressive insight. Yet for all its gravity, it glows with warmth and humour. The writing, rich in subtext, excels at showing rather than telling – though later exchanges feel less nuanced, such as Maureen’s sudden absolution from a stranger and Kate’s unlikely departure from the pilgrimage. However, Harold and Maureen’s final scene restores the play’s understated humanity, closing with an authentic and unforgettable resonance.

Katy Rudd’s award winning direction, with Jamie Manton and Nicky Allpress, evolves with Harold. Early Brechtian elements – deconstructed set, ever-present ensemble, freezeframes – evoke a fractured existence, while later scenes bring realism and new life. The Balladeer’s shapeshifting nature is seeded with care, haunting Harold before vanishing at key moments. Chris Fisher’s illusions are brilliantly unsettling, while Timo Tatzber’s puppeteering is irresistibly endearing. Overall, the production balances spectacle with subtlety, and resonates with emotional depth.

With music and lyrics by Passenger, and additional contributions from Jeremy Holland Smith and Phil Bateman, the score is delicious, weaving country, smooth jazz, and pop into a cohesive folk sound. The careful construction builds and eases tension beautifully, with surprise chords underscoring emotional breakthroughs. Beautiful harmonies abound, including with the dog! The orchestra brings the score vividly to life under the baton of musical director Chris Poon and deputy Caitlin Morgan.

Tom Jackson Greaves’ choreography, assisted by Nell Martin and Edwin Ray, cleverly contrasts stillness with full blooded ensemble movement, weaving a rich mix of styles that celebrate the many paths to joy and fulfilment.

Samuel Wyer’s design, with Joseph Bisat Marshall (associate set and costume), Paule Constable (lighting), and Ash J Woodward (video), is cohesive, polished, and rich in symbolism. Circles recur from the proscenium arch to the performance space to the barrels, evoking cycles of change and unity. The barrels themselves carry additional meaning, while the circular arch becomes the frame through which we view Harold’s life. The tonal palette reveals stark differences, with Harold’s muted greys giving way to vivid sunsets, while Maureen stays stuck. Blake’s influence in the intense watercolour skies is clear. The only slight drawback is the sound design by Ian Dickinson and Gareth Tucker for Autograph, with voices occasionally struggling against orchestral swells. Still, the overall design grounds and drives the narrative with striking beauty.

The cast is outstanding. Mark Addy nails Harold Fry’s mix of bumbling charm and sincerity with no nonsense wit and warm vocals. Jenna Russell gives a beautifully nuanced Maureen Fry, compressing decades of resentment into a faded figure with crystalline vocals. Noah Mullins makes a dazzling West End debut as the commandingly mercurial Balladeer, delivering stunning vocals. The whole ensemble shines with vivid characterisations, powerful singing, and Tatzber’s enchanting puppetry.

Catch ‘The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry’ while you can – this is a journey you won’t want to miss.

THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE at the Noël Coward Theatre

★★★★★

“In short it is simply captivating”

The past doesn’t feel far away. We all have moments when we are convinced of that. That it’s just a short walk away, waiting at the end of the lane for us. Neil Gaiman’s uncharacteristically emotional 2013 novel is a story about the past, about what happens when we try to follow that lane. A voyage of discovery. And of re-discovery. Finding memories that we had chosen to forget and discarding false ones we had held onto. With Gaiman, of course, this path is littered with nightmares, but also with moments of beauty and aching sadness, that are all thrillingly brought to life in Katy Rudd’s stage production, adapted by Joel Horwood.

Nearly every discipline is used to create this masterpiece of theatre. One in which the practical and technical realities of design, light, sound, puppetry, choreography all assemble to concoct an other-worldly realm of the imagination, which draws us right in. Even in a West End, proscenium arched theatre there is no divide between stage and auditorium; between fantasy and reality. The story also blurs the lines between fairy-tale and horror flick, fable and comic strip. In short it is simply captivating. There is nothing else simple about it though.

Revisiting his childhood home, an unnamed man finds himself at an old farmhouse where he used to play and is transported back to his twelve-year-old self. To say that we return to the present at the climax is no spoiler; it is what lies between the bookends that I shall endeavour to keep under wraps, perhaps unnecessarily. I seem to be in the minority by coming to the show for the first time. Four years on from its premiere at the National, followed by a hiatus during the pandemic and then its belated transfer to the Duke of York’s Theatre; the return to the West End marks a repeat viewing for many people. And it is easy to see why.

Trevor Fox begins the narration before he is led back in time, where Fox also plays the dad to his younger self – known simply as Boy (Keir Ogilvy). Along with Boy’s sister – called Sis of course – the family unit is brittle. Are these memories of a happy childhood, or a lonely, miserable one? Is his father a bully or just grieving over the recent death of his mother? Whichever, Boy finds solace by escaping outside whenever possible where he meets Lettie (Millie Hikasa), a girl his own age who takes him back to her family’s farmhouse which borders a pond that Lettie refers to as the ocean. The ensuing adventures are triggered by a mix of personal tragedy and a belief in the make-believe. Cue the wicked stepmother figure, the call to arms, crossing the threshold, the monsters, the road back; pretty much all twelve steps of the ‘Hero’s Journey’. Except there is no ‘one hero’. And there is no one cast member who stands out – such is the brilliance of the performances.

“We are kept on the edge of our seats throughout”

Ogilvy’s ‘Boy’ has an innocent eccentricity offset by Hikasa’s more knowledgeable but equally eccentric Lettie. A gorgeous chemistry is struck between the two, glued together with hope and trust. Meanwhile, back at home, the sibling rivalry is stunningly and comically brought out thanks to the shining performance of Laurie Ogden as Sis. Charlie Brooks, as Ursula the witch-like new girlfriend of Dad, is a frightening presence. Sweet on the outside but barely concealing the bitter hard centre of menace. Kemi-Bo Jacobs and Finty Williams are the young Mrs Hempstock and Old Mrs Hempstock respectively – Lettie’s mother and grandmother. While we wonder whether the characters’ supernatural powers are real or not, there is no questioning the natural power of the performances.

The production could be described as magical realism. The stakes are high, the drama heightened. We are kept on the edge of our seats throughout. Ian Dickinson’s soundscape – with Jherek Bischoff’s high-powered music – is unsettling and thrilling, while Paule Constable’s lighting is just as atmospheric, moody and magical. Doors move, furniture floats in and out, and gnarled woodland flexes and pulses on Fly Davis’ set which is routinely transformed by a sinister ensemble in perfect time to Steven Hoggett’s inspired movement. The childhood fear, that we may have forgotten in adulthood, is scaringly reignited by Samuel Wyer’s puppets (for ‘puppet’ – read ‘monster’).

The finale is strikingly moving, especially having arrived there through the terror’s that are imagined and real. The stuff of nightmares are mirrored in the genuine feelings of grief, bereavement and the need to survive. Home truths are delivered to the heart with piercing accuracy. Memory lane is lined with thorns. Nothing really looks like what it is, and there is no such thing as a true memory. I partly disagree. This production will remain a true memory for a long while. Incredible – in every sense of the word.

Tag Archives: Katy Rudd

THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE OF HAROLD FRY

★★★★★

Theatre Royal Haymarket

THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE OF HAROLD FRY

Theatre Royal Haymarket

★★★★★

“balances spectacle with subtlety, and resonates with emotional depth”

THE UNLIKELY PILGRIMAGE OF HAROLD FRY

Theatre Royal Haymarket

Reviewed on 10th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Tristram Kenton

THE UNLIKELY

THE UNLIKELY

THE UNLIKELY

The Ocean At The End Of The Lane

★★★★★

Noël Coward Theatre

THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE at the Noël Coward Theatre

★★★★★

“In short it is simply captivating”

“We are kept on the edge of our seats throughout”