27/10/26
The Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh
George Orwell’s 1949 novel is embedded into our cultural landscape, its ideas spreading far beyond the confines of the page. In the seven decades since it was published, its terminology has become ubiquitous: thought police, doublethink, Room 101 – and, most famously, Big Brother, who always knows what we’re up to, thanks to surveillance devices installed in our homes.
What time did you get in last night? Your doorbell knows. Hey, Siri. Alexa! Are you listening?
Of course, this means that it is endlessly adaptable (and endlessly adapted), horribly applicable to almost every political regime. So what’s a theatre-maker to do if they want to offer a fresh perspective? In this instance, playwright Chris Hannan has opted for a framing device highlighting 1984‘s Scottish origins, as Orwell builds his dystopia from a bed in Glasgow’s Hairmyres Hospital, where he’s being treated for TB. It works well, binding the fictional world to the real one, reminding us how easily Oceania could become our actuality.
The first act is impressive. Jack Tarlton convinces as both Orwell and his protagonist, the world-weary Winston Smith. It’s a demanding job (the actor is in every scene) and he handles it with aplomb, engaging us in the two men’s inner struggles: Orwell coming to terms with his physical decline, and Winston trying to retain his sense of self in the face of ruthless authoritarianism.
Tom Piper’s imposing design creates an immediate sense of oppression, with metal bars and grating dominating the prison-like set, where silent guards patrol an upper mezzanine. When Winston and his co-conspirator, Julia (Jessica Hardwick), venture out into the forbidden countryside for a tryst, the naif-style roll-on scenery is over-bright and fake looking, accentuating the couple’s wilful delusion. They’re not fooling anyone except themselves; Big Brother is just biding his time.
Unfortunately, the second act is not as successful as the first. Once Winston and Julia have been apprehended for their transgressions, the storytelling becomes more fragmented and we are afforded less insight into their characters. Winston’s torture is shown in a series of vignettes which, although visually arresting, are punctuated by long blackouts, which soon become tiresome. What’s more, although I like the idea of gender-swapping O’Brien, I can’t help thinking Irene MacDougall has been miscast here, exuding neither menace nor authority.
Perhaps the most disappointing element is the Room 101 sequence. I share Winston’s phobia of rats and yet I’m not at all moved. The box on Winston’s face means that we can’t see his reactions, while Heather Scott’s video design – a strength of the production up to this point – is too understated here, the images of the rodents too dark and close-up to really make out.
The hospital scenes ameliorate things somewhat, with Robert Jack and Irene Allan convincing as Dr Dick and Nurse Rankine respectively. Director Dominic Hill creates a palpable sense of Orwell’s desperate situation in these moments, illuminating both subtle and not-so subtle links to the novel.
All in all, this co-production between Glasgow’s Citizens’ Theatre, Dundee Rep and Edinburgh’s Royal Lyceum offers an interesting and uniquely Scottish take on a modern classic. Despite some mis-steps, it’s nonetheless well worth seeing, especially in these post-truth times.
3.6 stars
Susan Singfield
