Tag Archives: Oscar Wilde

SALOMÉ

★★★★

Theatre Royal Haymarket

SALOMÉ

Theatre Royal Haymarket

★★★★

“the show is beautifully stylised and atmospheric”

The story of “Salomé” is biblical, and Oscar Wilde wrote his play over a hundred and thirty years ago, yet it continues to connect with a modern audience. It is mainly down to the continuing influence of Wilde on modern culture, but also because the character of Salomé has always captured people’s imaginations. She has become such an icon. One that is open to interpretation. Gesher Theatre’s take on the story has made some very bold choices. Wilde’s play was considered scandalous – and was indeed banned – upon its publication and, although times have changed since then, Maxim Didenko’s haunting production still maintains the ability to provoke and to unsettle.

We are immediately drawn into the sumptuously decadent world created by designer Galya Solodovnikova. Part Parisian opulence, part Gatsby mansion, we are at the birthday party of Herod, the tetrarch of Judea (Doron Tavori). Soft, jazz piano chords filter through the air while soldiers, dressed in black and carrying machine guns menacingly watch on. Despite appearances, they have the voices of angels – especially the young, tragic Syrian (played by Itamar Peres) who marvels at Salomé’s beauty. The conversation sets up the action, like a prologue of sorts, anticipating the entrance of its heroine. Meanwhile the prophet Jokanaan (aka John the Baptist, played fearlessly by Shir Sayag) is revealed, incarcerated within a frame halfway up the back wall of the stage, lit in flame red hues, expressing his fear-inducing prophecies through melodic falsetto chanting.

When Neta Roth, as Salomé, bursts onto the scene she makes her presence felt instantly. Petulant, eccentric and goading, she is a beguiling mix of spoilt brat and abused child. She certainly knows how to get what she wants, but she often acts too impulsively with little empathy. She is neither outright villain, nor a thoughtful role model for feminism. Her mother Herodias (Lena Fraifeld) is the epitome of frustration and unease at the way her husband, Herod, lusts after his stepdaughter. It is unreciprocated. Salomé instead makes romantic advances towards Jokanaan which, in turn, are spurned. The results are deadly, of course, and events lead up to the famous dance of the seven veils, complete with Salomé’s gruesome demands of Jokanaan’s head on a silver plate as a reward for performing the dance.

The actual story is quite uncomplicated in its familiarity, but what this company does so well is tease out the undercurrents. The characters are stripped bare so that their motivations are crystal clear. It is all about power, hunger, control and manipulation. The abused become the abusers and the objects of desire become the voyeurs. Culprits and victims are indiscernible. Light-hearted conversations downstage are superimposed against slow motion tableaus depicting executions taking place upstage. The cruel contradictions of life in the corridors of power are carefully and imaginatively staged, yet Didenko refuses to make it political; his direction is more sophisticated than that. Instead, the show is beautifully stylised and atmospheric, enhanced by Gleb Filchtinsky’s exquisite lighting and Louis Lebée’s compositions. Nir Knaan is to be found throughout at the grand piano, underscoring the narrative with impeccable sensitivity and emotional accuracy.

Very occasionally the diction gets a bit lost in the venue, although the cast (Roth is the finest example) handle the poetic lyricism of Wilde’s words with ease. While some of the physicality borders on excess, the dance of the seven veils is a powerful moment (if a little odd), eschewing the expected eroticism in favour of finding a more menacing, animalistic flavour. We realise how unhinged Salomé has become and Roth’s portrayal takes on Shakespearian proportions. Indeed, this is very much a tragedy – right up to its shocking finale. A haunting and compelling show, it would be a bit of a tragedy to miss it.



SALOMÉ

Theatre Royal Haymarket

Reviewed on 30th September 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Isaiah Fainberg


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE SCORE | ★★★½ | February 2025
WAITING FOR GODOT | ★★★★ | September 2024
FARM HALL | ★★★★ | August 2024
HEATHERS | ★★★ | July 2021

 

 

SALOMÉ

SALOMÉ

SALOMÉ

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

★★★

Jack Studio Theatre

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

Jack Studio Theatre

★★★

“The cast does an admirable job of interpreting this unfamiliar work”

You’re probably unfamiliar with Oscar Wilde’s first play, ‘Vera; Or, The Nihilists’. Rarely performed after its 1883 premiere flopped catastrophically, I’m eager to see its first-ever London staging. This politically charged piece has revolutionary ambitions, tackling female empowerment, ideological corruption and the war on tyranny (how timely!). However, it fails to rally the troops, lacking Wilde’s signature sparkle and venturing into curious artistic terrain.

Vera Sabouroff, a young Russian peasant, is riled to revolution after a chance encounter with her brother, Dmitri, reveals he isn’t in Moscow studying law, but a Nihilist radical brutalised by the Czar’s tyrannical regime. Vera vows to avenge him, leaving with her father’s manservant, Michael, in tow. Fast forward five years and Vera is the Nihilists’ top lethal operative, tasked with assassinating the Czar. But when forbidden love sparks between Vera and her elusive comrade Alexis, duty and desire collide. Will the people win? Or will Vera betray her beliefs?

Cecilia Thoden van Velzen’s adaptation trims some of Wilde’s verbosity, allowing the epigrammatic wit he later became famous for to shine. A serious piece, there are still genuinely funny moments, such as a quip comparing diplomacy to salad making, and the Czar breaking the fourth wall to ‘smile’ at his people. Thoden van Velzen makes a smart call in introducing some commentary, with a disembodied narrator book-ending each act and reciting an epilogue which elucidates the play’s significance. Though the effect is a little spoiled by featuring said epilogue in the programme.

Another element I find curious is the decision to rewrite Wilde’s original ending. Instead of Vera being forced to choose between ideology and love, that decision is unceremoniously made by Michael, who has confessed he used to love her in the scene before. It completely changes the dynamic, erasing Vera’s willingness to die for her beliefs and suggesting a Chekhovian love triangle. Rather than letting Vera seize her progressive female agency, it’s ended by a (jealous?) man. As the first ever London staging, I question whether it’s necessary to tamper to such a degree.

Thoden van Velzen’s direction has moments of brilliance, such as loaded glances, shameless shrugs, and fourth wall breaks opening a window into the Czar’s troubled mind. However, the blocking needs work, Vera standing in profile or with her back to the audience a few too many times, and the cast getting a little lost amid the towering set pieces.

Thoden van Velzen’s sound design is spot on, with subtle effects and musical interludes perfectly complimenting the minimalist feel. The melancholy entry music, expertly timed window shot, and insistent clock chiming are all particularly effective.

Ruth Varela’s all-paper set and props build a world that feels authored and impermanent, doubling as a metaphor for power’s thin façade. However, the clumsy, clattering set changes, completed by the cast under full stage lights, breaks the believability and adds little when some structures move a mere few centimetres.

Anastasiia Glazova’s costumes evoke the period with a subtly modern flavour. Keeping Alexis in the same outfit emphasises his resolve and difference from his father.

The cast does an admirable job of interpreting this unfamiliar work. Jonathan Hansler is fantastic as both Czar and Vera’s father, revealing surprising depth and range. His initially Thénardier-esque Peter Sabouroff completely breaks when he recognises Dmitri; his Czar is terrifyingly unstable, volatile outbursts contrasting with icy coolness. George Airey’s Alexis brims with aristocratic ardour, at times petulant, others impassioned. Finn Samuels’ Michael completely transforms from tender youth to ruthless tactician, conveying much with just a look. Natasha Culzac does a decent job of Vera, though plays it a little safe, remaining more ingénue than insurgent.

You might not go wild for this production of ‘Vera; Or, The Nihilists’ but its messy history, magnetic performances and historic milestone make for a memorable experience.



VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

Jack Studio Theatre

Reviewed on 20th September 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Henry Roberts


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

HAVISHAM | ★★★ | March 2025
IN THE SHADOW OF HER MAJESTY | ★★★★★ | November 2024
CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE | ★★★½ | November 2024
MARCELLA’S MINUTE TO MIDNIGHT | ★★ | September 2024
DEPTFORD BABY | ★★★ | July 2024
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING | ★★★ | August 2022

 

 

Vera

Vera

Vera