Review: Oedipus (Wyndham's Theatre)

Review by Sam Waite

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thanks in no small part to famed psychologist Sigmund Freud, many of us know at least a bit about Oedipus before the curtain rises on Robert Icke’s modern adaptation of Sophocles’ ever-enduring tragedy. Following successful runs both overseas and in Edinburgh, Icke’s Oedipus makes its West End debut at Wyndham’s Theatre, where contemporary politics and an unnamed nation take the place of monarchy ruling over Thebes. With much of the plot, including that fateful revelation, still drawn from the infamous Greek tragedy, Icke and co.’s task is two-fold: Maintain the attention of those in the know, and provide a compelling introduction for the rest.

We meet Oedipus as he gives one final address before retiring to campaign headquarters to await the results of a national election. A familiar crack about publicly revealing his birth certificate to assuage his unseen competitors doubts as to his origin is accompanied by the announcement that he will reopen investigations into the death of his predecessor, whose sudden death has left their country without a true leader for decades by this point. The enormous screen on which we are shown this pre-recorded sequence, cleverly crafted by Tal yarden to resemble a real-life press conference, then rises to reveal Oedipus’ re-entry to HQ, where his ageing mother has paid a surprise visit for an urgent chat, and his endlessly supportive wife Jocasta prepares to celebrate their projected landslide victory.

Running at two interval-free hours, Icke’s adaptation simply doesn’t have the place to insert a break – once the screen has lifted away, events take place in real time over the two hours between this final public appearance pre-count and the time when he must address his people as either their new leader, or a man defeated. In the back corner of the stage, a digital clock counts down the hours, minutes, even seconds, until their futures are decided. Incidentally, it also helps greatly for anyone who might use an interval to check on the remaining time, as it’s only a few fateful minutes out from the runtime of the production. A great admirer of the precision and careful hand required for a director’s work to keep things on track, on beat, and on schedule without showing too firmly their involvement, I found myself captivated by how carefully orchestrated the whole performance must be – it all feels human and natural in the moment, but Icke has undoubtedly put hour of work into ensuring the cast and the clock maintain their careful unity.

Leading the company is Mark Strong in the titular role. Teetering between abundant charm and just the right amount of borderline-obnoxious showmanship, Strong’s Oedipus is entirely believable as the likely victor of an election, while equaly believable as a playful man who frequently embarrasses and irritates his three children. His performance brings enough sense of well-meaning excess that moments such as his semi-publicly outing one of his sons or taking a touch too kindly to a crazed intruder feel authentic to the character, and well-intended enough that he doesn’t topple into pure, self-centred obnoxiousness. His chemistry with the trio of grown-up children, played with well-matched charm and snarky wit by Phia Saban, Jordan Scowen and James Wilbraham, fills in their familial backstory with little need for exposition, freeing up Icke to explore them as they are rather than explaining how they were.

There is, however, a moment of flashback at the final moments. Following a harrowing, emotionally decimating finale, this singular scene feels out of place, entirely pleasant but somewhat robbing what should be commanding, heart-rending final moments of their power. Indeed, the patron beside me briefly began to clap before realising what they had assumed to be bows were in fact the beginning of this brief trip to the characters’ past. Hildegard Bechtler’s HQ set is ingeniously minimised throughout the performance, the space having served its purpose. Stripped of the amenities and furnishings with which Bechtler built a vivid and functioning headquarters, the bare set makes this final moment easier to transition into, but doesn’t quite justify its presence.

Those familiar with Oedipus, be it the tragedy, the myth, or the complex, will know how deeply important the two women who dominate his heart are to the proceedings. As Merope, who spends much of the play in desperate pursuit of just a few moments alone with her only child, June Watson is marvellous. Carrying much of the jaded edge she brought to her recent work in The Cherry Orchard into the role of Merope, she also manages to instil the part with a great deal of gravitas, our hearts breaking in time with hers when she finally gets to have the much-demanded conversation near the play’s finale. Watson also proves to be a brilliant comedic addition to proceedings, particularly during a disastrous family meal in which all six performers shine as comedians. “I would have never dared speak to my father that way,” she spits at her granddaughter, to be met with Saban’s delightfully deadpan, “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

Top notch as the entire cast is, this Oedipus triumphs largely due to Lesley Manville’s extraordinary, transcendent performance as Jocasta. Manville, tasked with convincingly holding back and gradually revealing past tragedies, and with being the one to piece together the ultimate revelation and guide her husband’s realisation, brings a delicate concoction of grace, dignity, sensuality, and guardedness to her work. As ferociously sexual in intimate moments as she is devastating in an extended monologue later in the performance, she is never anything short of breath-taking. So powerful is her work in the final moments of the story, that – pardon the cliché – a pin dropping to the floor of the Wyndham’s would have been heard throughout the auditorium. In a stellar cast, Manville manages to pull ahead of the pack in a sensational, transformative performance.

The first of two adaptations of Oedipus famously announced within an hour of one another at the beginning of the year, Icke’s production makes a strong offering, daring not just another Oedipus, but any other modern twist on Greek tragedy to match its spectacular highs. Though the final scene could be cut without consequence, so much of what comes before is earth-shattering in its brilliance, and Manville in particular makes such a profound impact in her role, that it is easy to forgive Robert Icke any small missteps. Bolstered by its well-cast performers, its allusions to modern politics, and the rich formulation of its characters, this Oedipus makes it easier than ever to see why this story is so often revistited.

Oedipus plays at Wyndham’s Theatre until January 4th 2025

For tickets and information visit https://www.delfontmackintosh.co.uk/whats-on/oedipus

Photos by Manuel Harlan