Heartfelt performances provide a powerful emotional kick in this new adaptation of Kazuo Ishiguro’s tearjerker about medical ethics and doomed youth
Based on Kazuo Ishiguro’s beautiful, breathtakingly sad 2005 novel, this bittersweet Bildungsroman follows a generation of clones born into a quietly dystopian mid-1990s England. Although they enjoy a privileged upbringing in a progressive-seeming boarding-school, the students gradually learn that their limited education is only preparing them for brief lives of servitude and exploitation as second-class citizens destined to become mandatory organ donors.
Suzanne Heathcote’s confident adaptation skilfully weaves Ishiguro’s non-linear plot and pensive, philosophical observations into a focused, fast-paced play. The action jumps freely around in time, with director Christopher Haydon’s dynamic staging ensuring that every shift is clearly signalled, the closing moments of each scene being interrupted by the first words of the next. Haydon carefully controls the tone, ensuring that the piece never feels miserable despite its bleak premise. Overwhelmingly, the characters’ early lives are filled with squealing laughter, excitement and affection.
The cast – though somewhat uneven – share a tremendously warm chemistry, precisely charting the donors’ development from children, to teens, to young adults, keeping some mannerisms consistent while others shift over time. Nell Barlow gives an absolutely magnetic performance as narrator Kathy, capturing all of the doomed protagonist’s complicated, contradictory emotions. She is by turns reserved, desperate for love, guilelessly enthusiastic and calmly accepting. But when her composure finally cracks, the absolute, unguarded grief she channels is gutting.
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Elsewhere, Matilda Bailes is splendidly awful as best friend Ruth, putting on an outward show of conceited superiority but revealing deep insecurities with a range of eloquent expressions, flashing wary glances, challenging smirks and lip-curling sneers. Angus Imrie is strong as Tommy, overcoming his childhood behavioural problems with Kathy’s encouragement and growing into a gentle and compassionate man, albeit one haunted by the unfairness of his situation. And Susan Aderin brings gravitas to the role of Miss Emily, the deeply conflicted educator balancing care for her students with the need to prepare them for an awful, inescapable fate.
The smart set, by Tom Piper, depicts a cavernous hospital ward, all clean lines, pine furnishings, and cream-coloured upholstery. Light pours in from arched windows high above, while several sets of double doors swing wide to admit crowds of charging schoolchildren or overworked surgeons. Joshua Carr’s soft lighting cycles through a spectrum of pastel colours, tinting the neutral space with sunset orange and dusty blue, with clear but unobtrusive shifts marking each of the story’s jumps in location. All that delicacy falls away, however, when the donors prepare for surgery and deep shadow suddenly flood in as a cold fuzzy spotlight jabs down on to a hospital bed. It is a strikingly discomforting moment, effectively driving home the horror at the heart of this moving and deceptively wistful piece.
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