I’ve always despised ‘pride by association’. That borrowed sense of triumph that tends to be expressed by armchair patriots during sporting events. You know, people who find themselves getting all misty-eyed during a national anthem they’ve never bothered to learn. But, after watching Nye, I must admit I have now finally felt that absurd sense of pride. A pride born not of personal achievement, but of shared birthplace – a geographical proximity to a Welshman who died sixty-five years ago. Ridiculous, isn’t it?
But the truth is, what Aneurin Bevan achieved was so remarkable that our shared nationality is enough for me to feel ever so slightly smug. The creation of the NHS was nothing short of extraordinary, especially when considered in a contemporary context. Could anything so revolutionary, so unimaginably impactful, be created now? An institution founded purely from kindness? Let’s face it, if Nye were a fictional story, it would likely be dismissed as too whimsical a concept – far too sentimental and implausible to reflect the world we live in today.
This co-production between the National Theatre and Wales Millennium Centre tells the story of this fiery Welsh politician who, as Health Secretary, established the National Health Service. It uses the not particularly novel, but undoubtedly effective, theatrical device of having the character experience a series of hallucinations, which, of course, provide a whistle-stop tour through the most interesting parts of his life.
As Nye receives care from the very institution he brought into existence, we see him revisit these revealing memories from the comfort of his hospital pyjamas. From trade union activist to Member of Parliament, we follow his efforts to “Tredegar-ise” healthcare, using methods inspired by his hometown community, which ensured that its residents could access medicine regardless of financial circumstances.
Michael Sheen as Nye. credit Johan Persson
Michael Sheen as Nye brims with charisma and carries himself with magnetic energy. His performance is all the richer for being on home soil, something it’s clear he savours as much as the audience.
Sheen transitions effortlessly between Nye’s fragility in old age and his anxiety in youth as a child with a stammer, but he never loses sight of the restlessness – the spark of determination – that defined Nye in every era of his life. Sheen’s well-known passion for advocacy off the stage also seems to bleed into this performance, and at times he appears to embody an almost living echo of the man he portrays.
But despite Sheen’s obvious star turn, Nye is very much an ensemble triumph. Sharon Small shines as Jennie Lee, Nye’s formidable wife and fellow MP, while Jason Hughes delights as Archie Lush, providing both comic touch and emotional grounding. Kezrena James is also compelling in her dual roles: as Nye’s sister Arianwen, she pleads for him to adjust his focus to home rather than the country as a whole, and as his nurse, she demonstrates a balance between empathetic care and unwavering pragmatism – symbolic of the NHS itself.
Vicki Mortimer’s set is effective and versatile. It sees hospital beds transform into parliamentary tables – often with patients still attached! – and gigantic, sickly green NHS curtains act as both barriers and portals to distinct periods of Nye’s life.
Direction from Rufus Norris is sharp and refined, but most successful when amplifying key sequences. A clear standout is a scene in which a young Nye quite literally flies from bookshelf to bookshelf at his local library. Here, he builds a vocabulary he will wear as a suit of armour to combat struggles with his stammer. This profound moment captures the production’s sense of playfulness, unafraid to embrace a kind of childlike magic, which Nye himself seems to hold dear from cradle to grave.
Tim Price’s script dutifully depicts the milestones of Bevan’s life and creatively presents Nye’s pursuit of social justice as being spurred on by guilt. Nye carries shame for not being able to save his own father from the common miner’s death of ‘black lung’ and it is this tragedy that both haunts and defines him. It’s a warm, witty and very Welsh text which leaves the audience with a specific emotional resonance that intentionally overshadows the curtain call – it’s a plea of sorts, for gratitude and continued protection of an underfunded and underappreciated health service.
Ultimately, this is the story of a man propelled by an unwavering passion to help others. A man with ambition that was never self-serving and instead, always rooted in a vision to improve lives. Against all the odds, Nye remained defiantly committed and we, to this day, are the beneficiaries of his resolve.
In the UK, healthcare is still – mostly – free at the point of need. This play reminds us just how remarkable that is. After all, the NHS isn’t a last-minute goal scored in a stadium; it’s a service built on the principle that health is a right, not a privilege – a promise that care will be there when it is needed most. So yes, that may elicit pride by proxy, but any loose association with the man himself, or with his creation, should be celebrated – it is a pride that is unashamedly yours.