★★★★★

“A masterfully acted, visually exquisite and morally knotty production”

Dominic Cooke’s production of George Bernard Shaw’s Mrs Warren’s Profession receives a thrillingly sharp and stylish revival that balances moral complexity, aesthetic beauty, and arresting performances. This production proves Shaw can still provoke and entertain, with astonishing relevance.

The draw for many will undoubtedly be the casting of real-life mother and daughter Imelda Staunton and Bessie Carter as Mrs Warren and her on-stage offspring Vivie. Staunton commands the stage with trademark precision and emotional depth, but Carter is just as engaging, proving she’s earned her part – it’s not simply her birth-right. The generational tension between the two characters embodied as well as acted. Staunton, at just five feet tall, brims with flamboyant energy in set and costume designer Chloe Lamford’s jewel-toned Victorian taffeta gowns, while Carter, nearly a foot taller and dressed in sober, neutral and practical outfits, towers above her mother both physically and morally. Their power dynamic is as visual as it is verbal.

The set, a lush English cottage garden constructed on a large central revolve, is a visual treat. Cosmos, foxgloves, and peonies bloom in abundance, creating a dreamlike pastoral idyll that gets slowly dismantled, mirroring the erosion of Vivie’s youthful idealism and naivete as the play progresses. The contemporary lighting design (Jon Clark) casts a soft ethereal glow over the action, contrasting with the period dress and set.

Shaw’s play, written in 1893 but long banned for its subject matter, feels surprisingly fresh and funny. Themes of gender, morality, class, and capitalism ring disturbingly true even now. Vivie is the true protagonist of the play and a woman ahead of her time: Cambridge-educated, fiercely independent, contemptuous of art and romance alike, and with dreams not of marriage but of legal practice. The men around her are bumbling fools like the Reverend Samuel Gardner (Kevin Doyle), talentless-but-charming like his son, Frank (the outrageously charismatic Reuben Joseph), hopelessly romantic and captivated by beauty like Mr Praed (Sid Sagar) or quietly evil like the only true villain Sir Robert Crofts (Robert Glenister).

And what exactly is Mrs Warren’s profession? Shaw never names it outright, and the play dances delicately (though unambiguously) around the truth. When it is revealed to each character, the reactions are telling. It’s not the choices Mrs Warren once made that cause rupture, but her refusal to reject them now. Her justification is pragmatic, even persuasive and it is in the Socratic sparring matches between Staunton and Carter that the production comes alive.

Cooke and cast resist easy moralising. As Brecht once said of Shaw, he excelled in “dislocating our stock associations.” There are no heroes here, only complex individuals navigating a world with too few good options. By the end, Vivie walks away from her mother, her money, and all the compromises that come with it. Yet she doesn’t emerge triumphant. The play closes on a note of quiet devastation. Vivie may have escaped her mother’s shadow, but she remains haunted by the phantoms of the women who could not.

A masterfully acted, visually exquisite and morally knotty production.

THE FIFTH STEP

@Sohoplace

★★★★

“the direction is slick and there’s always a sense that something is around the corner”

About halfway through this bracing alcohol-and-redemption two-hander, James suddenly appears in a rabbit’s head.

This is a call-back to a dream that Luka recounts, Luka being a newcomer to the step programme of Alcoholics Anonymous. In the dream, his sponsor James appears like a rabbit, and so he does again in real life.

This is an interesting fantastical element, we think, seeing the world through Luka’s eyes.
James, in the rabbit’s head, offers Luka some cake.

‘What kind of cake?’ asks Luka.

‘Carrot.’

That’s the whole point of this elaborate set-up – a carrot joke. The rabbit’s head is swiftly dispatched and is of no further use or consequence.

Therein lies the tension at the heart of The Fifth Step. We can see playwright David Ireland’s impish inclinations at work. He can’t help himself. If there’s a gag, he’s going to veer off course to hoover it up whatever the cost to character, balance or timing. Now we’re thinking: that whole bit about Luka’s dream? Was that just there to construct the rabbit-carrot gag?

The writer really wants us laughing. He is successful – for it is a very funny play – but it is also an effortful and visible urge. It means many of those tight 90 minutes are devoted to set-ups and punchlines are not available to develop character, relationships and substance.

Because the play also has a hankering to tackle big issues. There is the overarching scenario – a suicidal alcoholic seeking aid from a long sober veteran. This leads to discussions about the oedipal reflexes of fathers and sons, spiritual awakenings, inventories of shameful behaviour (aka, the fifth step) and – hold on to your hats – sex. Lots and lots of talk about self-pleasuring.

The result is resoundingly entertaining but frustratingly slim.

That is not to say the audience is short-changed.

For one, it is a very comfortable watch. Yes, the expletive-rich script can prove occasionally jarring, but the action speeds along, the dialogue flies about like a pinball, the direction is slick and there’s always a sense that something is around the corner – some twist or revelation – that will provide fresh juice.

The stage (set design Milla Clarke), in the round, aids this sense of urgency. It is reminiscent of a scattered circle of folding chairs at an AA meeting but soon becomes a wrestling ring, with two minds locked in an embrace, fighting each other to a breathless standstill.

Secondly, there are the performances. They are simply superb – low-key and silky. Jack Lowden is the freshly minted star of Slow Horses and here he reprises his role as Luka from a short Edinburgh run. He is all chaotic energy, his leg always bouncing, his mind always racing.

Martin Freeman, as James, has a knack for freighted stillness. And, of course, he has a history of hangdog deadpanning that is firmly part of comedy legend. But we also know – if only from his Bafta-nominated role in The Responder – that beneath that placid exterior, roiling anger bubbles and seethes.

Their parts are underwritten and their relationship too mercurial to be wholly conclusive but in the moment, there is a wonderful chemistry. Finn Den Hertog’s direction makes full use of their combustible contrasts – younger and older, tall and short, keen and jaded, motionless and jittery.

All this makes for a brisk and punchy tour of two fractured psyches struggling to account for a lifetime of queasy impulses. Worth a watch, if you dare.

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION

Garrick Theatre

★★★★★

“A masterfully acted, visually exquisite and morally knotty production”

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION

Garrick Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd May 2025

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION

MRS WARREN’S PROFESSION

THE FIFTH STEP

@Sohoplace

★★★★

“the direction is slick and there’s always a sense that something is around the corner”

THE FIFTH STEP

@Sohoplace

Reviewed on 17th May 2025y

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE FIFTH STEP

THE FIFTH STEP

THE FIFTH STEP

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