BIRDSONG

Pamela Raith Photography

Adaptations are so much a part of contemporary theatre that one has to wonder what is happening to original drama and playwrights. Books and films fuel the modern stage and of course revivals and classics, but where is the new writing? No doubt the trend is driven by economic forces, the need to sell tickets and appeal to the widest possible audiences, this I understand and popular theatrical endeavours no doubt help keep our theatres open.

Then in amongst this trend for adaptation comes along a gem, a work of such startling brilliance that a packed theatre is held, enthralled by the delivery of a saga wrought from the dense pages of Sebastian Faulks’ 1993 best seller by Rachel Wagstaff. It is a tour de force of writing, a novel brought movingly to life, scarily real and effectively spanning the years in the short space of one evening.

Set at the start of World War I it throws characters into a changing world, advancing modernisation, capitalism and greed are altering the face of Europe as it heads into war, Privileged French society is seen against a background of starving workers and into that a young and idealistic Englishman is thrown, soon to fall hopelessly in love with the factory owners’ abused wife. That love is reciprocated and forms the constant thread for what follows.

And what follows is so stunningly realised, Richard Kent’s simple setting is masterfully adaptable, one minute a northern French  drawing room, the next a factory, and on until we are thrown into the trenches and tunnels of front line war. Jason Taylor’s restrained use of light, and it has to be said darkness, is stunning, oppressive and frightening, we feel that sense of claustrophobic terror which eventually is punctuated by startling artillery and bombing in a once again restrained soundscape designed by Dominic Bilkey. Original music drifts behind the whole but there is also heartbreakingly beautiful singing both solos and ensembles from a cast of thirteen who effectively convey that world in which millions of soldiers and civilians died.

And died for what? For land, for money, for faith? Or simply for evil. How the story rang true for an audience in 2025 where avarice and greed is once again rearing its ugly head.

Of course much of the success of this production lies with a first class cast and director. Alastair Whatley has steered this with a steady and even hand, never resorting to excess he delivers the story with clarity and, through that sense of almost restraint, passions, terror and realisation become far more real.

The ensemble, who are called upon to play multiple roles, are first class, nurses, prostitutes, 15 year old boys, tunnellers, soldiers of different ranks are all convincingly portrayed and again with that sense of restraint that makes the vile reek of war seem so much more real.

James Esler

At the heart of the story is Stephen Wraysford played by James Esler. Initially the romantic and idealistic Englishman, once thrown into war as an officer, his decline is palpable, he ages spiritually and visually in a way that proves him to be a talent to watch, especially as this is his stage debut. In short a stunning performance.

Charlie Russell

Charlie Russell plays Isabelle Azaire, the unhappy and abused wife of industrialist René Azaire. It is a beautiful performance, filled with both stillness and fire. It is a complex character, unhappily married and already having a sexual relationship with one of her husbands rebellious factory workers, she then falls into an intense relationship with Wraysford that starts with an explicit but beautifully handled seduction. Seldom do you see sex depicted with such intensity and realism, never coy but at the same time never salacious. Both Russell and Esler must be applauded for so beautifully handing this vital moment in the story.

Alongside all this we see the story of two of the men, not enlisted soldiers but tunnellers, digging beneath the front line, beneath the German troops to plant bombs. It is a deeply affecting story of men thrown together in the direst of circumstances, not necessarily driven by patriotism but by money and promises, only to find themselves in the filth and stench of front line life. Anyone who has made the trip to see the trenches and tunnels of the Somme as I have, even now clean and maintained, will have a sanitised impression of just how awful it must have been. And sat in the audience last night I could almost smell that stench of war, of filth and of death.

Max Bowden and Tama Phethean

Max Bowden and Tama Phethean bring those horrors so brilliantly to life, gentle performances that could have been delivered with histrionics but instead are given with a sense of terrified calm.

Mention must also be given to James Findlay whose beautiful singing brought tears to my eyes  and to Roger Ringrose whose displays of arrogant pomposity in two of his roles rang so true.

Birdsong, a word never uttered from start to finish, is an ambitious piece of theatre beautifully and movingly realised by and an accomplished company in every quarter. I started by talking about the vast number of theatrical adaptations, if only they were even half as good as this. Genuinely unmissable and poignant stuff.

Andrew Kay

Theatre Royal Brighton

5 February

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