Some encounters shape history; others shake the very essence of what it means to create. The Score is both. Brian Cox, as Johann Sebastian Bach, commands the stage with such monumental presence that it feels as if the weight of his own genius and convictions have materialised in human form. Opposite him stands Frederick II, played with icy precision by Stephen Hagan, a man of war, reason, and calculated ambition. Gently standing between them is the alluring tempo of a melody yet to be fully realised.
Spring 1747, Potsdam. Bach arrives reluctantly, dragged from the sacred hush of Leipzig into the golden, sharp corridors of Frederick’s court. A man of scripture, harmony, and a world where order is divine, Bach finds himself out of place in a court ruled by bloodshed and philosophy. Frederick, a king who does not believe in God, but believes in Bach, presents him with a challenge—a musical puzzle woven in notes and chords.
This witty biographical odyssey gently guides us to understand one of the most preeminent cultural figures to ever emerge from Europe. Funny, yet delicate, The Score presents dialogues that delve into the nature of divine intervention, the question of free will, and what it means to be human—to believe or not to believe—and how, when two men stand before each other, stripped of pretension, their souls are laid bare.
One of the most remarkable moments in this gripping piece of theatre is the burning conversation between father and son, where Bach reveals what haunts him: the ephemerality of the instant and how it births the next. That almost imperceptible moment, where decisions are made and destiny conceived, like a creature in a somewhat monstrous womb. The mystery of creation. The paradox of wanting to believe we have full control over our choices, yet sensing, deep down, that something greater is guiding our hand. Because we are weak. We are not almighty.
It is enthralling to explore the nature of music as a language—how emotion, in its purest and rawest form, can be expressed in ways that natural languages—German, Russian, Spanish, Hindi—simply cannot encompass. Bach understands that art holds the secret to a certain immortality, not of body, but of soul. He knows his legacy will not be of conquest or dominion, but of sounds that will outlive him. A legacy of harmony in a world ravaged by war.
And then there is the man facing him: the ruler. The king. This harmonious dive into the mind of a genius, into the soul of a man who was unafraid to challenge power, brings us into the heart of Bach’s suffering. Age creeping in, his sight slipping away—and yet, oh, does he see clearly. He sees the pain. The theft. The mercilessness. His music allows him to read into the silence of others, to the unspoken suffering of an emperor—young, charming, and yet blind. Or perhaps, on a level he has yet to understand, does he see?
Brian Cox is nothing short of extraordinary. He embodies Bach with a force that is both thunderous and profoundly human—a man clinging to faith as the world shifts beneath him. Opposite him, Stephen Hagan’s Frederick is electric—sharp-edged and ruthless, wielding logic and power as weapons. Between them is a battlefield of notes, a duel without swords, only melody. Nicole Ansari-Cox as Anna Magdalena Bach provides an anchor of warmth, a contrast to the cold, gilded halls of the Prussian court. The chemistry between the actors is electric, alive, and utterly captivating.
Visually, the production is stunning. Robert Jones’s set design infuses the stage with opulence, while Johanna Town’s lighting creates moments of grandeur and quiet, flickering intimacy. Sophie Cotton’s sound design and additional compositions blend seamlessly with Bach’s work, creating a space where past and present, fiction and truth, intertwine.
But beyond its beauty, The Score is a play about resistance. It is about the unbreakable force of art against the crushing weight of power. Bach does not fight with words or armies. He sits before the king, a man who revels in war, and he composes. And that is enough.
I profoundly enjoyed the laughter and the moments of reflection that this majestic piece of theatre gifted me—a stern yet light reminder of the never-ending turning of the earth, of time slipping through our fingers like sand, and of the eternal question: Is anything impervious to its passage?
The Score
By Oliver Cotton
Director: Trevor Nunn
Cast: Brian Cox, Nicole Ansari-Cox, Peter De Jersey, Juliet Garricks, Stephen Hagan, Jamie
Wilkes, Christopher Staines, Toby Webster, Matthew Romain, James Gladdon
Until: 26 April 2025
Running time: Approx. 2 hours 30 minutes (with interval)
Photo credit: Manuel Harlan