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

★★★★

“It is the sharp wit and intelligence of the language that sustains the piece and cushions it from the risk of being labelled dated”

Oliver Goldsmith’s period comedy, “She Stoops to Conquer”, was first performed in London a quarter of a millennium ago, but is still very much alive among today’s canon of revivals. Initially titled ‘Mistakes of a Night’ it is indeed a comedy of errors. Goldsmith himself dubbed it a ‘laughing comedy’ while others referred to it as a ‘comedy of manners’ or a ‘romantic comedy’. The stress is repeatedly on the word ‘comedy’ – as the laughs from the audience at Tom Littler’s festive revival testify.

It is the sharp wit and intelligence of the language that sustains the piece and cushions it from the risk of being labelled dated. Littler’s production shifts it from the eighteenth century into a 1930s country manor deep in the heart of P. G. Wodehouse land. Tucked away in the English countryside we find Mr and Mrs Hardcastle; the former relishing the quiet, old-fashioned lifestyle while his wife longs to untuck herself and see the new things happening up in the big city. Instead, the city comes to them in the form of two raffish slickers – Charles Marlow and George Hastings. Marlow has been invited as a prospective match for the Hardcastle’s daughter, Kate, while Hastings is in tow to pursue Kate’s cousin Constance, who in turn is being reluctantly matched by Mrs Hardcastle to her prankster son Tony. Courtesy of Tony’s mischievousness, the two gents arrive mistaking the country house for an inn.

The main butt of the satire is class divide, emphasised by the way the characters treat one another depending on the (often mistaken) perception of their social standing. The text calls for a heightened degree of acting, which the formidable cast deliver without ever overdoing it. Greta Scacchi pitches just the right amount of affectation into her flame haired Mrs Hardcastle, as gaudy as the baubles with which she adorns the Christmas tree. Scacchi manages to parody and show off her privilege simultaneously, with a cut glass accent in need of a good polishing. David Horovitch is the perfect foil as her bumbling crank of a husband, delightfully and playfully outraged at the slightest threat to his authority and standing. Tanya Reynolds, as Kate, effectively has a dual role, spending much of the time pretending to be the lowly barmaid she is mistaken for. A comic talent, showcased in a glorious scene where she tries on various accents for her alter ego. Guy Hughes is a real find as Tony, the one who instigates all the misunderstandings. His veil of bumpkin buffoonery shields an intelligent rascal, but one with a good heart.

But the one everybody is looking out for is Freddie Fox. One moment eloquently flirtatious, the next a nervous, tongue-tied wreck. A lithe performance, Fox effortlessly switches between the two sides of Marlow, eking out the hypocrisy of the class system but – more strikingly – drawing out the laughs from an audience that hangs on his every word and nuance. Robert Mountford’s Hastings and Sabrina Bartlett’s Constance add a delightful extra layer of farce as the ‘will-they-won’t-they’ couple. Bartlett, in particular, lighting up the stage with her presence.

The performances and, of course, Goldsmith’s script are what drive this comedy through what would otherwise be a fairly safe revival. Anett Black and Neil Irish’s setting has the comfortable warmth of a well-heeled family Christmas, transforming not entirely successfully into the local pub. And we get the feeling sometimes that the sense of privilege is enjoyed too much rather than lampooned. But these sentiments are quickly knocked aside by the stream of laughs. Sometimes gentle, sometimes farcical. The festive setting might be a touch opportunist, but it is bang on target, and we leave the auditorium uplifted and ready to embrace the joys of Christmas.

Tag Archives: Orange Tree Theatre

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

★★★★★

Orange Tree Theatre

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

Orange Tree Theatre

★★★★★

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