It is a truth that should be universally acknowledged that not all successful films need to be made into plays, let alone musicals; but there are exceptions, and this is one of them.
Jack & Sarah was one of the unexpected slow-burn films of the 1990s, with its exceptionally starry British cast all harnessed to a story of great heartfelt sincerity that cut through internationally. Tim Sullivan’s account of a man’s flailing attempts to cope with bringing up a baby after the sudden death of his wife in childbirth had great resonance on its own; but it was coupled with a quirky array of secondary characters who all helped out as best they could, and that gave the whole a quirky, comic ambience that balanced and complemented the harsher framework of reality.
To recreate these effects on the stage is no mean feat, and Duncan Abel does a fine job in preserving the essence of the film while making significant changes that are necessary adjustments for stage authenticity. First of all the action now takes place in the family home, but scenic variety and development over time are embodied in the action through having the house’s renovation taking place gradually across the whole length of the play – we start with the chaos of no front door or roof, and end with a pristine redecorated living room: the changes involved mean we don’t miss the absence of outside London locations. Terry Parsons’ set thus mirrors the family journey from chaos and disorder to harmony and resolution.
The range of characters is reduced , but this increases opportunities to deepen and enrich the characterisations of those that remain, especially the character of the charming drunken drifter, William, who carries the main weight of comic diversion during the especially poignant scenes in the first half. All credit too to director Abigail Pickard Price, who gives the scenes time to breathe, allowing the key emotional moments of breakdown and coming together to cumulate naturally and therefore bring with them a more powerful point of final impact. There were plenty of hardened reviewers around me who were moist-eyed at several points in the evening, testament to the way in which the varying tone of the play landed as it should at all the right moments. Only at a few moments, just after the interval, did the pace falter slightly, before a very strong finish, asissted by the insertion of several affecting musical items, sung with grace and poise by Anya de Villiers in the role of Amy.
There are no weak links in this cast and a good chemistry between all. In the lead role of Jack, George Banks comes over as brash and unsympathetic initially; but he earns our empathy in an energetic but fine-grained performance where he makes you feel the strain and panic below the surface well before it actually breaks through. Anya de Villiers is an excellent foil as the American delivery girl, tactless but well-meaning, who ends up as the nanny to baby Sarah. She calibrates the personal growth of the character to precision.
There are excellent supporting contributions from Neil Roberts and Sarah Moyle, as parents trying to help out; and Lee White and Lucy Doyle add well-rounded cameos as the well-meaning but disorganised builder Nat and (in a double act) as Sarah, the sweet and gentle wife and Anna, Jack’s steely boss who tries to beguile him into dating her. But it is Rufus Hound as William, the bookseller down on his luck, who steals the show, not least for some sly and deserved adlibbing over a persistent phone in the audience. This is a performance of brilliant comic timing, but also great heart and appropriate tenderness.
The play has the same kind of timeless appeal as Armistead Maupin’s Tales of the City – an unlikely mad-cap combination of characters to be sure, but set into a pattern of challenging events where the boundary between tragedy and comedy is a tightrope so plausibly and delicately drawn you want everyone to walk successfully right to the end.
And they do.
Adapted from Tim Sullivan’s film by Duncan Abel
Director: Abigail Pickard Price
Cast: George Banks, Lucy Doyle, Rufus Hound, Sarah Moyle, Neil Roberts, Anya de Villiers, Lee White
Until 14 June 2026
2hrs 15 minutes with interval
Photo Credit: Pamela Raith