THE PIANIST

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Beautifully melancholic and affecting”

The life of the composer, Wladyslaw Szpilman, was brought to the public consciousness by Roman Polanski’s 2002 film “The Pianist”. Himself a holocaust survivor who witnessed his parents being taken off to the concentration camps, Polanski exorcised some deep-seated scars with his harsh, objective portrayal of a man who survived against impossible odds. Despite sharing the title and also being based on Szpilman’s memoir, Thom Southerland’s new musical is not a dramatization of the epic feature film. Instead, it is a beautifully understated chronicle of the key elements of the life and music of a man who carried the guilt of survival on his slim shoulders. Early on, Daniel Krikler’s Szpilman tells the audience that “I don’t know how I survived”, as he paces the bare boards of Andrzej Goulding’s set; stark wooded slats that continue up the back wall. They slide apart to reveal the musicians and the music, only sometimes to be slammed shut again as Szpilman cries “no more songs!”. Yet we cannot escape the music; with the grand piano that pulls focus centre stage. A prop for Krikler, as he stands aside to let pianist and Musical Director Malcolm Forbes-Peckham recreate Szpilman’s compositions.

An intensely descriptive piece, it relies heavily on narration. Krikler depicts a soul at pains to get his story right, aware that memory is fallible, especially when wrought with trauma. Szpilman’s siblings and parents are on hand to fill in the gaps, and to correct occasionally, but not always reliable witnesses. His father (TJ Holmes) is initially in denial about the establishment of the Warsaw ghettos, while at the other end of the spectrum, his brother Henryk (Nitai Levi) is the prophet of doom. Sadly, the latter is closer to the truth as history has proved. Each family member, along with the many other pivotal characters that propel Szpilman’s journey, are also part of the onstage orchestra, who move and dance and sing, accompanying Forbes-Peckham at the piano. The piano itself dances too, spinning on its revolve, taking the spotlight when needed and retreating into the shadows whenever the music stops.

‘Where words leave off, music begins’ is a famous maxim that applies here. Unspoken thoughts are revealed through the songs, with new lyrics written by a band of lyricists, including Szpilman’s son, Andreas. There is dramatic irony in the opening number, ‘I Am Free’, a rousing choral ensemble. There are delicious 1930s pastiches such as ‘One More Time’ which sees the mother and father waltzing in the cafes. There is poignancy in ‘My Memories of You’ and ‘Forgotten Song’ while the later ‘Out of the Darkness’ tries to inject a very fragile optimism. There is the constant danger, however, that the beauty of the music will eclipse the horror of the story. ‘Without You’ is a misjudged ballad that closes the first act. Gloriously tender, it feels an incongruous accompaniment to the unimaginable terror of being wrenched from your family, watching as they disappear on the cattle trucks.

More in tune are a trio of piano instrumentals – ‘’The Life of the Machines’ – that mix spikes of danger into the melodies; almost a precursor to Stockhausen’s punctuated atonal technique, but still retaining flowing harmonies. It is fitting that these fall in the second act, in which the harsh realities of the story are more pronounced. Southerland’s pacing of the narrative is reflective of the acceleration of events. The dynamics of Szpilman’s family are well executed, particularly Levi’s portrayal of the indignantly righteous rebel, Henryk, illustrating the difficult relationship between the brothers. Melania Maggiore and Elżbieta Kalicka are the spirited but tragic sisters Halina and Regina. Rosalind Ford’s moving portrayal of the mother matches her evocative cello playing and vocals. In similar fine voice is Mischa Jardine as lifelong friend Janina.

All along the way, everybody seems to be on Szpilman’s side, ensuring his survival. But his music is the key. Being recognised as the famous composer frequently helped Szpilman too. Krikler embodies the incredulity of this advantage, even when death is staring him straight in the face. But saved by German officer, Hosenfeld, whose sense of shame is neatly portrayed by Oliver Grant, he lives to tell the tale. A tale that is quite exquisitely told in this musical, even though it does occasionally dip into sentimentality. Yet the staging has a restrained power that accentuates the importance of the music. A Chopin Nocturne bookends the piece, beautifully melancholic and affecting, particularly during the reprise as the ghosts of Szpilman’s family watch on in mute stillness.

“The Pianist” is assuredly moving, and never sets out to be brutal, harrowing or groundbreaking. It speaks of the importance of the music, and then lets the music speak for itself. Szpilman’s life and his music were one and the same. “The Pianist” is a poignant and enthralling reminder of that.

THE PIANIST

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd October 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Rich Southgate

THE PIANIST

★★★★

“strong character acting and wry, comic moments to leaven the harsh story”

The theme of this new play by writers Rosalind Adler and Lea Sellers, just opening at the Park Theatre, is how the artistic world (music in this case) acts and reacts under a despotic regime led by a tyrant who can topple individuals with a single word.

Holy Fool is set at the height of the Stalin era of Soviet history, when cultural policy in this period centred on the doctrine of Socialist Realism. This mandated that all art must be optimistic and uplifting, accessible to the masses, and ideologically correct – in other words serve the interests of the Party. There are parallels to be drawn with current world powers. It is these that the writers and director Kate Fahy are keen to draw out in choosing Dimitri Shostakovich as the subject for this portrait of an artist under pressure.

Dimitri Shostakovich (Mitya) produced an extraordinary range of music. In his time it garnered both extreme praise for his genius and great hostility for the modern discordant elements of his compositions. Living under constant threat of torture and death, he walked a tightrope between appeasement of the tyrant and resistance to the strangling cultural environment. His story is skilfully told in a chronological narrative, and at the back of a dark, era-defining set (William Fricker) that includes a grand piano, and microphones that drop from the ceiling, we are given key dates on a black screen, including that of Stalin’s death, to help us navigate major events.

Four fine actors play the central roles (as well as an assembly of other characters): Mitya (Benjamin O’Mahony), his wife Nina (Jenna Augen), friend Izaak (Fergus O’Donnell) and a young woman who falls under Mitya’s spell, Katya (Phoebe Pryce). O’Mahony is, in turn, brilliant as the composer, then febrile, anxious and angry as the man. Augen as his soul mate and equal, maintains a solid but also light presence, wryly comic at turns, frustrated and tolerant. When she disappears from the narrative, after her death, we miss her almost as much as her husband does. As Mitya ages, Fahy makes the very sensible decision to let his gait and body movement tell of his deterioration without the need for superfluous make-up.

Shostakovich’s fourth symphony is the device which connects the narrative – composed between 1935 and 1936, then cancelled, achieving its premiere only in 1961. This is used cleverly (along with other compositions) by the writers and the creative team as a vibrant part of the drama. Finally, as the action moves toward Mitya’s last years, the back projection magically resolves into a vision of a freedom and safety that lights up the dramatic space – a middle class street of an American suburb in a time of hope: the sixties and seventies.

Overall, the threat of the Socialist Realism era is rather underplayed. However, this is not the first time, and it won’t be the last, that despots have tried to use force to silence artists. Underground resistance and the human spirit is the story told here in an extremely well created and performed piece of work, with strong character acting and wry, comic moments to leaven the harsh story.

Tag Archives: Park Theatre

THE PIANIST

★★★★

Park Theatre

THE PIANIST

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Beautifully melancholic and affecting”