The National Theatre is, arguably, at its very best when it produces epic character studies. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, while now outdated in its depiction of neurodivergence, was astounding in its stellar staging; War Horse and The Ocean at the End of the Lane had its awesome puppetry; and The Lehman Trilogy was a cinematic marvel about three brothers pursuing the American dream. Nye, the Tim Price play about the father of the NHS, is the latest mesmerising example.
He’s played by Michael Sheen, the Good Omens actor who once again finds himself in the realm of fantasy here, as the politician – drugged up on his deathbed – revisits the moments leading up to the launch of the health service, with a hint of surrealism thrown in to frame him as a legend in every sense of the word.
I mean, we all knew that already (both the NHS and its creator remain national treasures), but Price and director Rufus Norris embrace it here. While Norris’ fairytale farce Hex was ruined by the whimsical, here it serves to drum up confidence in an initially sheepish, passive Bevan (the first scene in his not-quite-chronological backstory is sister Arianwen chastising him for not seeing his dying father), as he confronts a cruel teacher with long wooden canes for arms, and is lifted into the air by the company as books float around him like a scene out of Matilda, discovering synonyms to bypass his stutter (learning Frantic Assembly’s Jess Williams and Steven Hoggett are the co-choreographers behind the swirling movement here is hardly surprising, if you’ve seen their work on Curious or Ocean).
This fluidity in the choreography and direction also seeks to serve another purpose, as it blurs the lines between real and imaginary. The aforementioned library book scene is prefaced by Bevan’s wife Jennie (Sharon Small) reading a book of her own at Nye’s bedside. When a vote is cast in the Commons upstage, Jennie and friend Archie Lush (Roger Evans) raise their hand to vote by Nye’s bed in the foreground, and for several scenes, beds form voting lobbies and tables. Similarly, the way in which the green curtains at the centre of Vicki Mortimer’s minimalist set design morph into the green benches of the Commons is genius. They also form the backdrop to impressively detailed projections from Jon Driscoll. Nye’s appealing to masked doctors, who are displayed on a curtain high above him to support his NHS proposal, makes the politician look like a tiny mortal appeasing the gods or giants, if one wants to continue down the path of mythology and legend in which this production relishes.
And these curtains make scene changes seamless – even the sharp pull of one curtain to reveal another part of the set gives the allure of something magical. The motifs and similarities in scenes suggest the real world of the NHS built by Nye is just as extraordinary and visionary as the mystical fever dream he experiences under anaesthesia. Clement Atlee (Stephanie Jacob) moves around on a twisting and turning desk which, hilariously, almost acts at its own vehicle, and at one point, Sheen even sings a rendition of Judy Garland’s “Get Happy” under blue and purple lighting. There’s a delightful giddiness to it all.)
Not to mention that Sheen wears red pyjamas throughout, his performance as the eponymous character coming with this mixture of childlike wonder and marvellous momentum as he journeys through his past (Price’s roadworks analogy for Nye navigating his stutter is perfect). Even when these two elements seemingly contradict, it’s acknowledged in scathing exchanges between Nye and Winston Churchill, the ensemble gathering around them in a semicircle like some kind of political rap battle as the latter (portrayed as robust and pretentious from Tony Jayawardena) acknowledges Bevan is a character who ‘seeks to govern but is ungovernable’. Nye claps back with a brutal, prophetic observation on Churchill uniting the working class against Hitler to mask his own flaws which, later, will prompt said working class to turn on him.
It’s exciting theatre, and refreshing. Two historical titans having their flaws and blind spots exposed, challenging the idea that they are infallible politicians of old. Yes, Nye does, for the most part, idolise its eponymous character, but it also does not shy away from humanising him with questionable actions, such as his lack of care towards his father because to care – for either oneself or others – is to pause, to halt momentum, and Bevan doesn’t like that all too much. Even when we see him in hospital, he’s saying that there’s still “more to do”.
Some will no doubt hope for a couple of subtle references to present day politics and how today’s NHS compares to Bevan’s initial vision for universal healthcare – I know I did – but I would have liked to have seen a greater amount here, even though there’s a good number of comments to dissect if you look for them. Bevan talks about ensuring doctors are in the best paid profession in the UK, prompting sighs of disappointment in the audience. When he proposes short and sharp nationalisation all at once, and is met with opposition, I was reminded of the present climate crisis, where calls for immediate, large scale societal change in a short space of time is met with a similar apprehension.
Nye is, on the whole, a magnificent celebration of our NHS and the man behind it, rather than a historical play tainted by regret at the many present strains the national health service is facing currently or warning against privatisation. If anything, this is addressed by the production showing how much this institution must be protected, and just how magical a health service it is.
★★★★★
Nye is now playing in the Olivier Theatre until 11 May, being broadcast via NT Live from 23 April.
It will then transfer to the Wales Millennium Centre from 18 May until 1 June.
Captioned performances are scheduled for 16 March, 3 and 26 April, and 24 and 30 May. The show will come with British Sign Language (BSL) interpretation on 19 April and 23 May.
It will be audio described on 30 March and 3, 25 and 28 May, while a sensory adapted performance will take place on 10 April.
Production Images: Johan Persson.
Disclaimer: I was invited to watch ‘Nye’ for free in exchange for a review of the performance as a member of the press. I did not receive payment for this article and all opinions stated above are honest and my own.
Liam O'Dell 