Tag Archives: Manuel Harlan

LORD OF THE FLIES

★★★

Chichester Festival Theatre

LORD OF THE FLIES

Chichester Festival Theatre

★★★

“It grips with urgency at its best, drifts and confuses at its weakest”

William Golding’s Lord of the Flies remains one of the most unsettling explorations of human behaviour. Nigel Williams’s 1995 stage adaptation brings the novel’s familiar story of boys stranded on an island into sharp relief, and Anthony Lau’s new production reframes it through stripped-back staging and a series of meta-theatrical touches. The result is uneven, at times thrilling, at others frustrating but never without interest.

The evening begins not with the boys’ arrival but with two stagehands hoovering the bare stage. When the house manager hands Piggy (Alfie Jallow) a sheet of trigger warnings to read aloud, the fourth wall is already gone. It is a playful yet unsettling opening, reminding the audience of the artifice before the story has even begun. Georgia Lowe’s set is pared back to black flight cases representing the trunks that fell from the sky when the boys’ plane crashed. The backstage area is exposed, also painted black, with rubber mats stretched across the thrust. There is no attempt to suggest a lush island, beautiful but dangerous. Instead the stage feels stark, industrial and alien.

The soundscape by Giles Thomas is striking, shifting from pounding music that vibrates through the auditorium to complete silence. In these moments the boys’ breathing and the hum of the lights are uncomfortably audible. Matt Daw’s lighting alternates between dazzling brightness, exposing every detail, and shadowed moments that heighten tension and allow the boys’ fear, viciousness and isolation to take hold. Fire is represented by hand-held smoke machines, a simple but effective image.

At the centre of the story are five more developed characters: Ralph (Sheyi Cole, making his professional debut), Piggy, Jack (Tucker St Ivany), Roger (Cal O’Driscoll) and Simon (Ali Hadji-Heshmati). The rest of the company blend into their factions, slipping convincingly between roles as loyalists and hunters. The cast vary in age, all young adults, some more convincing as schoolboys than others. Jack, used to the discipline and authority of the choir, is played with an edge of entitlement, contrasting with Ralph’s more open leadership and Piggy’s marginalised intelligence.

The decision to cast both Ralph and Piggy with Black actors adds a further social dimension, sharpening the sense of exclusion Piggy experiences and subtly shifting the class divide already present in Golding’s story. Jallow is exceptional, capturing both wit and vulnerability, anchoring the play’s moral weight. His awkwardness and honesty make him deeply affecting, and his distinct costume marks him out as different, reinforcing his insecurity. Hadji-Heshmati’s quiet collapse in Act Two, left alone with his fractured thoughts, provides one of the most powerful acting moments of the evening.

Lau’s direction keeps the energy high but sometimes at the expense of clarity. The use of house lights, scene changes in full view, and the cast announcing acts underline the theatrical frame. At times this feels fresh, but it also distances the audience from the emotional heart of the story. The production reaches its peak at the end of Act Two with Simon’s death. Staged with intensity and haunting imagery, it captures the chaos of the boys’ descent into violence. Here the stripped-back design, movement (Aline David) and fight direction (Bethan Clark) come together with real force, creating a sequence that is both shocking and unforgettable. Not all effects are as successful. A piñata, intended to represent the pig, once bashed by the boys spills sweets in a way that feels inconsistent with the production’s stripped-back design and stark atmosphere. Where Simon’s fate resonates, other symbolic choices jar, leaving the evening uneven in tone.

Too often the pacing falters. Scenes stretch, direction loses focus and the power dissipates. Themes and emotional beats become repetitive. The second death, though still disturbing, does not match the earlier high point.

This Lord of the Flies has moments of brilliance, particularly in its sound, its bold design choices and in Jallow’s performance, but the whole is inconsistent. It grips with urgency at its best, drifts and confuses at its weakest.



LORD OF THE FLIES

Chichester Festival Theatre

Reviewed on 30th September 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

TOP HAT | ★★★★ | July 2025
THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR | ★★★★ | May 2025
THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE | ★★★½ | January 2025
REDLANDS | ★★★★ | September 2024

 

 

LORD OF THE FLIES

LORD OF THE FLIES

LORD OF THE FLIES

THE PRODUCERS

★★★★★

Garrick Theatre

THE PRODUCERS

Garrick Theatre

★★★★★

“Naughty throughout, the production embraces its sparkly bad taste with debauched chutzpa”

Some shows come round at just the right moment. At a time when everyone is avoiding the political cracks in the pavement for fear of causing offence, along bounces Mel Brooks’ delightfully unrestrained The Producers gatecrashing the zeitgeist and reminding us that laughter can be the most subversive act of all.

Seems like a relief to be able to guffaw without checking the taste-o-meter.

Patrick Marber’s revival, first seen at the Menier Chocolate Factory, has now graduated to the Garrick, bringing with it the same riotous mix of bad taste, Broadway pizazz, spectacle and sheer joy.

The premise is still a comic marvel. Max Bialystock, a washed-up producer, has found a way to bankroll his flops by seducing elderly widows. Enter Leo Bloom, a neurotic accountant who spots a loophole: with creative accounting, more money could be made from a disaster than a hit.

Together they hatch a plan to stage the worst musical ever written. Unfortunately for them, that play – Springtime for Hitler – is embraced as satirical genius.

Andy Nyman’s Max is an inspired mix of sleaze and clowning, hustling with the air of a man who might sell his own mother if it kept the lights on. Nyman delivers – always.

Marc Antolin makes a marvellously twitchy Leo, a tangle of nerves and Broadway dreams. Together, they are a comic odd couple whose energy drives the show. Their routines – whether sparring, scheming, or tentatively finding a kind of friendship – are delivered with sparkling timing.

The supporting company maintain the standard – this is an ensemble of comic genius.

Joanna Woodward belts gloriously as Ulla, the secretary who offers romance as well as vocal fireworks. Harry Morrison’s Franz Liebkind is a delicious caricature of the deranged Nazi playwright, his lederhosen-clad lurching matched only by his chorus of puppet pigeons. Best of all, Trevor Ashley brings the house down as Roger de Bris, the flamboyant director pressed into service as the Führer, a vision in spangles and satin who manages to be both ridiculous and weirdly lovable.

Marber and choreographer Lorin Latarro work wonders in giving this the sweep of a Broadway blockbuster. Old ladies tap-dance on Zimmer frames, accountants break into showbiz numbers, and stormtroopers goose-step in perfectly drilled formation. Scott Pask’s lightbulb-framed set and Paul Farnsworth’s ever-more glittering and outré costumes heighten the delirium, while Brooks’ songs – “I Wanna Be a Producer”, “Betrayed” – still land with deadpan brilliance.

The show-within-a-show, Springtime for Hitler is the most bad taste, gloriously over-the-top sequence you will see anywhere in London. It deserves, and nearly receives, its own giddy standing ovation.

The satire has softened a little with time, but it is genuinely funny. Not funny as in light-entertainment-knowing-chuckles but the real thing, and slightly febrile. It is Mel Brooks after all.

What lifts this production above mere lark is its unencumbered freedom of spirit. Naughty throughout, the production embraces its sparkly bad taste with debauched chutzpah. It is like a big guilty secret we all share in a tucked-away speak-easy from where the social media stormtroopers are barred.

For all the lechery, fraud and outrageous parody, there is genuine affection in the bond between Max and Leo, and a sense that Brooks’ ultimate subject is not fascism but the lunacy of showbusiness itself. It is both love-letter and send-up, celebrating the power of theatre even as it mocks its excesses.

The Garrick now houses the most joyously tasteless evening in town. It is the ultimate antidote to All That Horrible Stuff Out There. It may be shocking, outrageous and insulting, but you will surrender. You vill surrendah.



THE PRODUCERS

Garrick Theatre

Reviewed on 15th September 2025

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION | ★★★★★ | May 2025
UNICORN | ★★★★ | February 2025
WHY AM I SO SINGLE? | ★★★★ | September 2024
BOYS FROM THE BLACKSTUFF | ★★★ | June 2024
FOR BLACK BOYS … | ★★★★ | March 2024
HAMNET | ★★★ | October 2023
THE CROWN JEWELS | ★★★ | August 2023
ORLANDO | ★★★★ | December 2022

 

 

THE PRODUCERS

THE PRODUCERS

THE PRODUCERS