★★★★

“refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye”

A Thing of Beauty confronts head-on a discomfiting question: should artistic brilliance be allowed to exist independently of moral responsibility? Writers Wendy Oberman and Jonathan Lewis have created a gripping drama in which ambition and manipulation battle truth and integrity, and the audience is caught squarely in the firing line.

Set in October 1972, the play imagines an in-depth BBC interview with Leni Riefenstahl. She was a highly-accomplished German filmmaker during the Nazi period. Her revolutionary techniques inspired George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, yet her legacy was permanently over-shadowed by her service to Nazi ideology.

Imogen Stubbs is magnetic in her portrayal of a woman whose charm, vanity and self-justification coexist in uneasy balance. Referring to herself in the third person throughout, Leni simultaneously elevates her achievements and distances herself from the uncomfortable truth they represent. It is hard to feel much sympathy, despite her protestations about a difficult childhood and an all-consuming creative drive. That she achieved such creative dominance within a regime that prescribed domesticity for women adds a further uncomfortable layer, one the play leaves the audience to sit with.

Tony Bell is a convincing Harry, the BBC interviewer who must maintain professional focus whilst simultaneously confronting his own demons. He is, by turns, vulnerable to Leni’s considerable charms and fiercely critical of her motives. The interview becomes an electric psychological duel: intimate, taut and genuinely unsettling.

The ensemble of Tony Boncza, Harry Bradley, Thomas Craig, Sophie McMahon and Harry Rundle provide a compelling dramatic frame; their on-stage presence as waiting crew members sharpens the sense that everyone here has something to conceal. The production’s most pointed observation is that Leni is far from alone in placing ambition (dressed up as art) above everything else.

Juliette Demoulin’s spare set is stripped back to essentials, letting the verbal exchanges carry full weight. Mark Dymock’s lighting shifts with quiet precision between the clinical and the conspiratorial, while Simon Slater’s understated sound design steadily deepens the creeping unease. Director Jonathan Lewis, who also co-wrote the piece, keeps pacing taut throughout, resisting the temptation to over-signpost the ethical questions and allowing their implications to surface with admirable restraint.

That restraint is ultimately the production’s defining strength. A Thing of Beauty refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye, sidestepped the truth or been complicit. Produced by Denise Silvey for Cahoots Theatre Company, this assured world premiere offers no comfort, only the unsettling recognition that history’s most beautiful images may conceal its most troubling truths.

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life”

Over the years, Theatre at the Tabard have built a solid reputation for creating family-friendly alternatives to pantomime over the festive season. In a city that is currently overrun with beanstalks, beauties, beasts and dames; to spend an evening with a company that harks back to traditional story telling is a breath of fresh air. This year, Edith Nesbit’s “The Railway Children” – adapted for the stage by Louise Haddington – further seals the Tabard’s reputation with its heartwarming take on the classic Edwardian story.

We are not plunged into a winter wonderland, but instead gently guided into the remote, rural Yorkshire landscape. There are some Yuletide concessions. Nick Gilbert’s choice of music incorporates hints of carols and, along with some festive snowfall, a modest Christmas tree accompanies the exchange of gifts. Like every ingredient of this show, the balance is carefully measured. Although geared to the younger audience the appeal spans the generations. Like the original novel and subsequent film adaptations, Haddington plucks at older heartstrings as well as playing to a youthful curiosity and sense of adventure.

The story is introduced by Perks, the perky (sorry!) station master, who quickly becomes friends with the three children who have wound up in the village of Oakworth. Uprooted from their London home the three children – Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis – arrive with their mother. Poverty has forced them to leave the city following the false arrest and imprisonment of their father for espionage; a fact that the mother keeps hidden from the rest of the family. Initially the children are unhappy with their new rat-infested home, but they quickly warm to the unfamiliar environment, finding amusement by the railway tracks and waving to the passengers on the trains that pass them by.

Clever and skilful simplicity rules the day, which is reflected in Rob Miles’ set design, manoeuvred by the actors to usher us from the railway station platform, to the cottage, to the rail tracks and to the village’s stone bridges and open fields. Simon Reilly’s smooth direction follows suit, neatly establishing the characters’ emotions as they rise and fall in rhythm to the contours of the storyline, firmly adopting the ‘less-is-more’ approach. Emma Rowe, Max Pascoe and Anya Burlton – as Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis respectively – tap into their childish nature without overplaying the child: Rowe, in particular, as the eldest sibling prematurely grappling with maternal responsibilities. Kirsten Shaw, as the mother, conveys well the era-specific need to reign in her emotions. Yet, although she can shield them from her children, she manages to convey them to the audience. Jay Olpin, as Perks, lights up the stage but can also provide shade, particularly when he reacts adversely to a surprise celebration of his birthday.

Christopher Laishley is the old gentleman who waves to the children from the train each morning. Laishley also plays the local doctor, the exiled Russian writer Mr Szczepanksky, and the children’s father, convincingly differentiating the roles with subtlety. The gentle flow of the show remains intact throughout, even though we are occasionally wanting a bit more boisterous conversation from the kids. Edwardian deference aside, it is unlikely that they would – without fail – allow a sibling’s sentence to finish before starting their own.

Yet overall, the dynamics are quite dazzling, and the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life, spurred on by Nat Green’s lighting (along with Gilbert’s soundscape), mixing evocative hues with bursts of smoke. The landslide scene in which a rail disaster is averted is effectively created with ingenious simplicity. Ultimately this is a moving tale that doesn’t wear its heart on its sleeve – the messages are subliminal – the emotions of hope and courage are felt rather than spelt out. The audience is split pretty much fifty-fifty across the young and the old. There is something here for everyone. You’d be wise to book for this journey quickly before it’s standing room only.

Tag Archives: Matt Hunter

A THING OF BEAUTY

★★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye”

A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 26th February 2026

by Elizabeth Botsford

Photography by Matt Hunter

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

★★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life”