5 – 6 March
A dramatic reimagining of George Orwell’s masterpiece using puppetry sounds an intriguing prospect, and the voice of Simon Russell Beale in the role of Big Brother lends an additional attraction. Sadly, this production by Box Tale Soup fails to live up to expectations. The company have some merit as storytellers, and the show has energy and pace. But their scramble through the ast days of the life of Winston Smith feels forced and over-exclamatory, failing to convey the many-layered complexity of the novel.
The life-sized puppets, faces and partial bodies, represent the wider cast of characters. These are manipulated by the three actors who play the principals – Winston (Adam Boyle), Julia (Antonia Christophers), and O’Brien (Noel Byrne). In moments of sincerity they appear without their masks, only holding them up when playing the roles required by the totalitarian state. There are hints of Greek tragedy here and the conceit makes sense, but its use is dramatically confusing and, unless you know the book well, it would be hard to work out who is who among the minor characters.
Two large cabin trunks are used as storage for props. These are pushed around the playing area between scenes and, together with four diagonal wooden poles, suggest the different locations. A large tepee-like structure stands at the back of the stage. At the end of the play, this is used to represent the pointed snout of an enormous rat and then the blank wall of Winston’s torture cell. And though every object on stage serves a particular purpose, the overall effect is somewhat cluttered.
The narrative moves fast, starting with Winston, alone with his diary, taking us through his love affair with Julia, his subsequent betrayal and arrest, and the horror of Room 101. Familiar pronouncements ring out. ‘Ignorance is strength.’ ‘War is peace.’ We hear about ‘doublethink’, ‘newspeak’ and endless wars. But these are difficult ideas to express theatrically, particularly through the consciousness of a passive anti-hero and it’s hard to feel any sense of engagement with his fate. Much of the time we simply watch and listen from a distance.
The best moments occur when the cast stand to attention, alert to the voice of Big Brother, when they scream vitriol through ‘two minutes hate’ or leap about doing ‘physical jerks’. Here we get a sense of their alienation from each other and the enforced obedience that warps their existence. But a contemporary production of such a significant novel should do more than give only the odd glimpse of its dark heart. At the very least one would expect a hint of foreboding, of something ominous and powerfully relevant. Perhaps 1984 is just too complex to succeed on stage. Box Tale Soup have made their name retelling well-known stories in an original way. They may well be competent, even engaging, storytellers. In this instance they appear to have picked the wrong story.
★★☆☆☆ Ros Carne 6 March 2026
