A provocative, ambitious production that evolves from apparent chaos into a masterful examination of revolutionary violence, delivering its warning with increasing urgency as fiction and reality blur.Summary
Rating
Excellent
Soaring inflation, mounting social tension, an out-of-touch political class that ignores the plight of its population while meeting increasingly desperate demands with increasingly fierce repression. I am, of course, talking about France in 1789, where The Glorious French Revolution (or: why sometimes it takes a guillotine to get anything done) takes place at the New Diorama Theatre. Still, if anything sounds familiar… if certain ideas start creeping in… well, this production might remind you of some uncomfortable truths about revolutions.
Five performers guide us through the story of France’s revolution and its lessons, trading roles with the flash of a placard – part of the production’s embrace of Brechtian tradition, a theory of theatre that refuses to let audiences lose themselves in comfortable illusion. By constantly reminding us we’re watching a play, it forces us to confront its political message head-on, without the safety net of fictional distance. Initially, this manifests as deliberately hammy performances and well-worn political satire that might leave you wondering if you’ve stumbled into an amateur protest piece. Trust the process – this theatrical bait-and-switch proves exactly the point.
Sam Ward‘s direction is remarkable in its control of chaos. What appears at first as a collection of random theatrical devices and gimmicky props – bouncy castles, treadmills, megaphones – reveals itself as a meticulously orchestrated descent into revolutionary madness. Ward understands exactly when to push for laughs and when to let uncomfortable silence simmer, crafting moments of genuine discomfort that serve the message perfectly.
All five performers display remarkable range, transitioning mostly successfully from exaggerated comedy to nuanced terror. The storming of the Bastille sequence exemplifies this transformation, beginning with slapstick energy before morphing into something genuinely chilling. King Louis XVI’s initial portrayal as an exaggerated buffoon similarly takes on darker significance as events unfold.
Tom Foskett-Barnes‘ sound design and Han Sayles‘ lighting work create an immersive sensory experience that mirrors this evolution. Throbbing beats and crowd noise mix with gunshots and, most effectively, strategic silence. Strobes and blinding effects serve not as mere spectacle but as visceral punctuation, building to several stunning crescendos that give way to moments of contemplative quiet. One particularly effective sequence features a performer on a treadmill, running faster and faster as revolutionary fervour accelerates – a simple but powerful metaphor for escalating violence that grows increasingly uncomfortable to watch.
While not every choice lands as perhaps intended, and there is definitely space for more cohesiveness, the overall impact is undeniable. The show transforms from interactive art installation to psychological thriller, with a final five minutes that rivals the tension of modern classics like Parasite in its examination of wealth disparity, the actors getting a chance to fully show their capacity for subtle, meaningful body language, saying as much through side glances and nods as they previously did through exaggerated physicality or zealous monologues.
What begins as crude humour evolves into a nuanced examination of how revolutions consume their children. Under all the experimental flourishes lies a devastatingly simple message about the cyclical nature of violence, delivered with all the subtlety – or lack thereof – it deserves. Those willing to weather the intentionally rough opening will be rewarded with a production that grows into something truly remarkable and unnervingly relevant. YESYESNONO have created a piece that starts by making you laugh at the past and ends by making you deeply uncomfortable about the present, and uncertain about the future.
Cast: Joe Boylan, Paul Brendan, Sha Dessi, Jessica Enemokwu, and Alice Keedwell
Directed & Written by: Sam Ward
Set & Costume by: Hazel Low
Lighting by: Han Sayles
Composer & Sound by: Tom Foskett-Barnes
Dramaturgs: Josie Dale Jones and Ben Kulvichit
Produced by: Rhian Davies for YESYESNONO
The Glorious French Revolution plays at New Diorama Theatre until playing until 14th December. Further information and book are available here.