21 July 2023 I 19:00 I Savoy Theatre, London
⭐⭐⭐⭐
It is a trend, among other bloggers, to give this play some breathing room after leaving the theatre. A Little Life (from Hanya Yanagihara's novel, adapted by Koen Tachelet) certainly leaves you with a LOT to digest. The whole theatrical experience is something never before seen by audiences internationally. Grief, anger and trauma manifest themselves into the form of the human body, displaying to us the ugly extremities (and concealed beauties) of life. Speaking to cast member Zach Wyatt post-show, it is crucial to explore how we leave the experience at the theatre, whereby the intensities are something both audiences and actors alike can distance ourselves from. Although, the message of care and empathy is something, as human beings, we can all learn from.
Audiences follow the life of Jude St Francis (portrayed by James Norton), haunted by his dark and unforgiving history, using fluid vignettes to highlight how frequently this pain develops. Jude is surrounded by friends Willem, JB and Malcolm (Luke Thompson, Omari Douglas and Zach Wyatt respectively), each are bound by their love for Jude, despite his relentlessly tough history. Various headlines and critics have flocked to share there responses over this play, with The Times' Helen Kirwan-Taylor asking "did you survive it?". A Little Life amasses a hefty run time of 3 hours and 20 minutes onstage, which impressively well spent. I don't feel as if it is a case of 'surviving', as this reduces it to a challenge. Regardless of a heavy list of content warnings, we are also invited into some incredibly beautiful moments, intimate and displaying an undying loyalty.
Every emotion is felt, and candidly genuine. The first act requires a lot of exposition, where the pacing struggles under the pressure of recounting a lifetime, thus difficult to connect and sympathise with the story. Whereas Jude is encouraged to talk about his trauma in Act 2, this half much more emotionally investing. Once we are able to see the pain in a way that we understand, character relationships blossom.
I find the use of direct address/narration slightly jarring towards the audience. The script, for the most part, is written with contained scenes. Occasionally it becomes, more story-like and theatrical, rather than passive observers. I have no prior knowledge to Yanagihara's original novel and style, though this narrative feel gives certain moments too much dramatism, opposed to a livelihood. These intimate sequences are really where A Little Life finds it's beauties, notably between Jude and Willem. Norton gives a beyond exemplary performance as Jude, acting some of the most harrowing scenes to ever hit a stage. The diversity of emotion across scenes, and the dedication to be so exposed onstage will lead to a very lucrative awards season no doubt! Jude's role is phenomenally straining to perform, so the labour the actors demonstrate to us is REAL, and becomes synonymous with their character. Where we empathise with Jude, there is an endless admiration in Thompson's Willem, a saving grace and acknowledging the challenges. His characterisation of Willem can indeed be a tear jerker, yet his gentleness and humanity would make me smile while watching.
Ahead of the show, I was concerned about the content warning of nudity, as media outlets treat this as a gimmick. However, it is staged very delicately allowing for an enhanced vulnerability, reflecting on the victimhood and ownership of the male body. Elliot Cowan is equally as tremendous multi-rolling the antagonistic roles of the play, a torrent of abusers. He exacts endlessly frightening tension, such repulsive visual acts making my heart race so fast from fear. Needlessly to say that this play is an extremely hard watch, however through vehement acts, it encourages us all to look at how we treat one another, every member of the cast superbly defining this.
I am extremely fortunate to have onstage seat during this run, incredibly special to be so involved in the intimate nature of the show. The Savoy Theatre's team are so welcoming as you are led down to the Greene Room, our exclusive bar for onstage audiences. This is situated beneath the stage, made specifically for the show! On the front row of the onstage seating, you witness some really special things. Jan Versweyveld's set incorporates a permanent kitchen worktop, used to cook real food. The smell is immediately so visceral, and generates a mundanity, as life continues on amongst the brutality. As well as a routine antiseptic smell, this reminder foregrounds a clinical feel, as health is reinforced as a priority. Very little 'stage magic' is used in A Little Life, and although it isn't wholly naturalistic, the concept of a lived experience is more honest with the set's minimalism. Projection, also designed by Versweyveld, is a fascinating addition, a monotonous exploration around NYC that glitches and speeds up during significant moments of the play, disrupting natural order. An infrequent quartet of violins and Eric Sleichim's sound design give weight to the tense air, beautifully accompanying the quiet.
Silence has never been so deafening in a theatre space before. The rise and falls of action are laid out with extreme precision so that graphic scenes aren't too overwhelming. You admire Harold's (Zubin Varla) delicate monologues on the innocence of childhood. Other times you wince at the roaring crack of the whipped belt armed by Caleb. These moments are felt through the whole space, hearing the low gasps of shock ripple through every spectator. Even during one scene, I had been physically shaking from nerves, emotion leads your experience. Susanna Peretz's prosthetics are painfully realistic, self harm graphically realised onstage with a lot of blood. Certainly not for the faint hearted, but this presentation serves as an educational display of the extremities of the mental health crisis.
Although I have given Ivo Van Hove's direction of A Little Life four stars, there is absolutely no denying that this masterful adaptation is a show I will always think about, for many many years. It is so much more than sadness. It is frustration, it is vulnerability and most importantly, it is love. Groundbreakingly influential in the representation of humanity, I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to witness this phenomenon of the theatre world. Come and leave your mark on Lispenard Street.
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