top of page

Review: Dr Freud Will See You Now, Mrs Hitler (Upstairs At The Gatehouse)

Review by Isabel Benson

 

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️️️️️


Laurence Marks and Maurice Gran are no strangers to taking risks, but Dr Freud Will See You Now, Mrs Hitler might just be their boldest yet. Making its world premiere at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, a venue well known for championing daring new work, this play dares to ask: what if Adolf Hitler, as a boy, had sat down for therapy with Sigmund Freud? What if the father of psychoanalysis had glimpsed the making of a monster?


ree

Structured around four fictional meetings between Freud and Hitler, the play spans decades, moving from the dictator’s childhood to his rise as an embittered young man. It’s a brave idea, but Marks and Gran ground it in meticulous research and a sharp sense of character. The writing never feels like a gimmick. Instead, it’s eerily convincing; so much so that you almost believe these conversations could have taken place.


Freud’s character dissects Hitler’s psyche. By breaking down his past and detailing his childhood of domestic abuse, dangerous ambition and fragile ego, we witness the ammunition behind forming a monster. While Freud attempts to analyse Hitler’s mind, we witness Hitler’s raw reactions, making it even more unnerving. Freud is on the front line of Hitler’s memories, scratching at his past and probing answers out of him. Freud’s intellectual precision and deep analysis cut through Hitler’s self-mythologising with unsettling clarity. Marks and Gran certainly know when to let the tension breathe and when to pierce it with a perfectly timed line. The tension between the two main characters is brought to life with a wry humour which balances their jarring interactions; there are moments where the audience laughs, nervously perhaps, only to be jolted back into the horror of what they’re witnessing.


ree

Visually, the production is a triumph of simplicity and imagination. The set transforms effortlessly across time periods without ever feeling showy. It’s clever, understated design work that allows the writing and performances to remain the focus while keeping the pace fluid and the atmosphere rich.


The performances are uniformly strong, but it’s impossible not to single out Sam Mac. Taking on Hitler is a daunting prospect and one that risks tipping into caricature. However, Mac’s performance is chillingly controlled. His Hitler is not a one-note villain but a fragile, angry man whose delusions of grandeur harden into something monstrous before our eyes. It’s a portrayal that sends shivers down your spine. The supporting cast matches his intensity, particularly the actor portraying Freud, who delivers every line with calm authority and just enough vulnerability to remind us that Freud is not immune to fear.


ree

Marks and Gran’s fingerprints are all over this piece—their knack for finding humour in darkness, their ability to draw out humanity even in the most grotesque of subjects. And yet, they never let the play become comfortable. This is theatre designed to provoke, to unsettle, and to force its audience to consider how easily evil can take root when left unchecked.


Dr Freud Will See You Now, Mrs Hitler is more than a provocative “what if?”—it’s a sharp, unsettling piece of theatre that blends history, psychology, and dark humour to devastating effect. It’s the kind of show that makes you sit forward in your seat, the kind you leave discussing long after you’ve stepped back into the world outside. When Freud warns that, for some men, “giving their love to someone else would be the death of their ego”, it lands like a thunderclap – not only as an insight into Hitler’s psychology but as a chilling reminder of the fragility behind tyranny. Moments like these are why the play lingers long after the curtain falls, and also why you should catch this show before it goes.

 

ree

Dr Freud Will See You Now, Mrs Hitler plays at Upstairs At The Gatehouse until 28th September. Tickets from www.upstairsatthegatehouse.com

 

Photos by Chromolume

bottom of page