Review: The Wanderers (Marylebone Theatre)

Review by Lily Melhuish

⭐️⭐️⭐️

In her writer’s note, Anna Ziegler explains that The Wanderers originally began as two separate plays. Unfortunately, you can still tell they were developed separately. The end result is a visually striking but narratively uneven production, a tenuous exploration of identity, belonging, and faith that never finds its footing.

We follow two Jewish couples: Esther and Schmuli, a Hasidic pair in Brooklyn navigating the early days of their arranged marriage, and Abe and Sophie, a secular, modern couple in the throes of marital fatigue. Esther, more rebellious than her dutiful husband, quickly grows weary of tradition, her quiet melancholy posing a threat against their orthodox existence. Meanwhile, Abe, restless and self-important, strikes up an unlikely email correspondence with Julia, a famous movie star who attends one of his book readings. Their digital flirtation unfolds in parallel with Esther and Schmuli’s story, creating a structure reminiscent of The Last Five Years: one couple at the beginning, the other at the end.

The concept is that each narrative deepens the other, offering mirrored insights into trauma, heritage, and the search for happiness. But the connection feels forced. Esther and Schmuli’s storyline adds texture to Abe and Sophie’s, but the reverse doesn’t hold. The modern plot lacks emotional weight, and the transitions between the two feel an awful lot like shoving a round peg in a square hole.

What truly elevates this production is Igor Golyak’s direction, paired with Jan Papplebaum’s sleek, monochrome set design. The stage is a transparent playground of glass and Perspex, with LED flourishes that evoke a kind of clinical memory box. Abe, armed with a white marker, titles each chapter on the wall that divides upstage from downstage, guiding us through the story’s fragmented structure. Radios, laptops, and various other props are illustrated on the translucent dividers, and used to effect by different cast members. Alex Musgrave’s lighting design deserves special mention, it draws the eye with precision, adding warmth and dimension to an otherwise sterile space. The staging places the two stories atop one another, inviting us to draw parallels. To some extent, it compensates for the play’s lack of cohesion. But it’s still a bit like putting a plaster on a wound that needs stitches.

The cast, to their credit, deliver strong performances across the board. Katerina Tannenbaum is exquisite as Esther, charmingly playful and delicately poised. Blessed with the meatiest character, I found it almost impossible to take my eyes off her. Her chemistry with Eddie Toll’s Schmuli is tender and believable, even as their dynamic frays. Toll brings a gentle sincerity to Schmuli, making his obedience more tragic than dull.

Alex Forsyth’s Abe is performed with all the nauseating pretentiousness you’d expect from a Pulitzer-winning author who still isn’t satisfied with his lot in life. It’s an accurate portrayal, woefully familiar and wholly unlikeable. He doesn’t possess the charm he thinks he does; perhaps more Torvald Helmer than Seymour Krelborn. Paksie Vernon’s Sophie is grounded and sympathetic, but her storyline feels underwritten, and her emotional arc is overshadowed by Abe’s self-indulgence.

Anna Popplewell’s Julia is played with alluring loftiness, almost ethereal in her long white dress, pin-curl hair, and dainty pumps. She floats across the stage, her voice like a siren call to our impressionable and obsessive Abe. But we never get to know her beyond the perfect picture he fabricates. Julia feels more like an imaginary friend than a fully realised love interest, serving only as a sounding board for Abe’s endless grievances. The result is a narrative that sags and loses momentum, especially when so much of the action happens over email.

I found myself longing for Esther’s return to the stage, her story felt richer, more urgent, and more theatrically alive. Abe and Sophie’s marital issues presented as trivial and pedestrian in contrast to their counterparts. It’s clear to me which of these narratives has real dramatic potential, and which one might have been better left on the cutting room floor.

Ultimately, The Wanderers is a play of two unfinished halves. It gestures toward big, universal ideas - faith, freedom, fidelity - but never fully commits to exploring them. There’s plenty to admire in the production, but the script itself feels like it’s still searching for its centre. Perhaps these two plays were better off wandering solo.

The Wanderers plays at Marylebone Theatre until November 29th

For tickets and information visit https://www.marylebonetheatre.com/productions/the-wanderers

Photos by Mark Senior