Review: Wife to James Whelan (Jermyn Street Theatre)

Review by Dan Ghigeanu

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There is something undeniably exciting about walking into a theatre to watch a play you know nothing about. In an age where it is all too easy to read reviews, watch trailers and absorb countless opinions before taking your seat, there is a certain joy in experiencing a story for the first time. That was exactly how I approached Wife to James Whelan. The only thing I couldn't escape was the reputation that has steadily grown around the play over the last decade. Widely regarded as one of the great rediscoveries of Irish theatre, it arrived carrying high expectations. Thankfully, this is one production that more than lives up to them.

Written in 1937 by Irish playwright Teresa Deevy, Wife to James Whelan. has one of the most fascinating histories of any play currently being revived. At the time, Deevy was at the height of her career, having established herself as one of Ireland's finest playwrights. Yet despite the quality of her writing, this play never received the fully staged production it deserved during her lifetime. Its exploration of female independence, ambition, class and shifting social values was considered too controversial for its day, and it wasn't until 2010 that the first professional production was staged. Nearly ninety years after it was written, however, the remarkable thing is not how old it feels, but how relevant it remains. At its heart, this is a story about ambition and the price people pay in pursuit of success. It examines how personal aspirations can reshape relationships, challenge loyalties and ultimately, force people to confront who they have become. Alongside this sits a thoughtful exploration of class and social mobility within a newly independent Ireland, where opportunities are changing, but expectations remain firmly rooted in tradition.

What elevates the play beyond a straightforward domestic drama is the way Deevy refuses to simplify these issues. There are no obvious heroes or villains here. Every character is driven by recognisable emotions and understandable desires, making it impossible to judge anyone too quickly. Just as you think you have settled on whose side you are on, another conversation shifts your perspective entirely. That moral ambiguity is one of the production's greatest strengths. It is also impossible not to admire Deevy's extraordinary command of language. Her dialogue possesses a richness that feels almost poetic and deeply authentic. Perhaps most impressively, Deevy doesn't over-explain motivations or spell out every emotional beat. Instead, so much is left lingering beneath the surface, allowing silence and subtext to become just as important as the dialogue itself.

Jonathan Bank's direction understands this perfectly, allowing Deevy's writing to remain at the forefront. One of the most impressive aspects of Bank's direction is the pacing. Despite the play's running time and dialogue-heavy structure, it never feels static. Scenes flow naturally into one another, with tension quietly building until seemingly ordinary conversations become emotionally charged.

The ensemble cast embraces that approach beautifully, delivering performances that feel wonderfully understated while carrying immense emotional weight. David Rawle is a constant source of warmth and humour as Apollo Moran. His natural comic timing earns many of the evening's biggest laughs, but it is the sincerity behind the humour that makes the performance so effective. Apollo's innocence could easily become exaggerated, yet Rawle ensures he remains believable throughout, creating a character who is both charming and quietly heartbreaking. Darragh Feehely gives a thoughtful and measured performance as Bill McGafferty. Feehely resists portraying him as simply unlikeable, instead presenting a man whose flaws are deeply human. It is a performance full of restraint that allows the audience to make up their own minds.

Eavan Gaffney brings tremendous warmth to Kate Moran, delivering one of the production's most emotionally grounded performances. Kate serves as something of the play's conscience, always attempting to do what is morally right even when faced with situations that would test anyone's patience. Gaffney beautifully captures the tension between compassion and disappointment, creating a woman whose quiet strength becomes increasingly moving as the story unfolds.

At the centre of the production, however, are Clíona Flynn and Fiach Kunz as Nan Bowers and James Whelan. Their chemistry is exceptional from the outset, creating a relationship that feels lived-in, authentic and emotionally layered. As circumstances change and tensions rise, their performances evolve remarkably, allowing every glance and hesitation to carry enormous significance. Flynn gives Nan an inner strength that never overshadows her vulnerability. She refuses to make the character either a martyr or a victim, instead presenting a woman navigating impossible choices with dignity and resilience. It is a beautifully judged performance that anchors much of the play's emotional heart.

Kunz delivers an equally compelling portrayal of James Whelan himself. James is perhaps the most fascinating character in the play, undergoing the greatest emotional transformation as ambition, success and expectation gradually reshape his identity. Kunz charts that journey with remarkable control, making us understand James even when we disagree with him. His performance is filled with quiet internal conflict, making the character's gradual unravelling both believable and deeply affecting.

The production's design complements the storytelling without ever distracting from it. Neil Irish's set design cleverly reflects the changing fortunes of the characters. The opening setting is intentionally modest, creating a sense of intimacy that mirrors the simplicity of the lives we initially encounter. As the story progresses, the transition to a far grander office space becomes more than just a visual change; it serves as a physical representation of ambition realised and the emotional distance that often accompanies it. Similarly, Anett Black's costumes subtly reinforce both character and status. Every costume feels entirely authentic to its period while quietly illustrating the changing circumstances of the people who wear them.

Wife to James Whelan asks difficult questions without ever pretending there are easy answers. Is ambition worth the sacrifices it demands? Can success compensate for lost relationships? Does social advancement inevitably change who we are? These are questions that remain just as relevant today as they were when Deevy first put pen to paper nearly ninety years ago.

It also feels impossible to leave without reflecting on Teresa Deevy's own story. That a playwright capable of producing work of this quality was overlooked for so long serves as a reminder of how many important voices have historically been sidelined. Productions like this are not simply revivals; they are long-overdue acts of recognition.

Wife to James Whelan is a beautifully crafted production that demonstrates exactly why Teresa Deevy's work has finally found the audience it always deserved. Rich, intelligent writing is matched by thoughtful direction, sensitive design and a cast delivering performances of remarkable depth and authenticity. This play proves that great writing never loses its relevance. Whether you are discovering Deevy's work for the first time or returning to an old favourite, this production offers an absorbing, emotionally rewarding evening of theatre. It stands as one of the finest examples of why forgotten classics deserve to be rediscovered.

Wife to James Whelan plays at Jermyn Street Theatre until 25th July. Tickets from https://www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk/show/wife-to-james-whelan/

Photos by Alex Brenner