It is hard to believe that Birdsong by Sebastian Faulks is now over thirty years old. Written, in part, to ensure that memories of the experiences of the First World War did not die with the last of actual surviving soldiers, it has had a sustained impact for two reasons. Firstly the writing offered a remarkably visceral account of the process and grim facts of trench warfare, but it has also endured because the quality of the writing about human relationships in wartime was equally fine. The love story and the various bromances at its heart found hope in the heart of darkness, a sense of the possibility of renewal against an utterly bleak backcloth. In a world that continues to be suffused by the crushing weight of combat and casualties, it remains compellingly relevant.
It is no surprise therefore to see it emerge in the theatre, and this is the latest stage version since the first iteration in 2009. It is something of a surprise, though, to see it staged at the Alexandra Palace Theatre. While this is of course a theatre of the period, reopened now as the acme of shabby-chic, it is also huge space, and in many ways unsuited to a novel that relies frequently on claustrophobia and confinement. The first act is socially claustrophobic, as the two protagonists negotiate a torturous love affair in a cluttered Edwardian interior; and the later acts are located in trenches and in a network of tunnels dug under German lines. Despite heroic efforts of set design it is hard to inhabit those spaces mentally from way back in the auditorium. More seriously, from my position in row P, I found much of the dialogue hard to hear.
These problems were difficult to overcome, and my reactions to and rating of the production are inevitably affected by them.
That said, this is far from a dour production. There are plenty of moments of humour alongside the pathos, and the effort put into the special effects of war is fully rewarded – the set, sound and lighting designs are an object lesson in less is more – telling gestures and selective impact rather than a continual sensuous bombardment. There are no weak links in the cast, and the ensemble among the actors playing the troops really did evoke male camaraderie very plausibly and to moving effect.
The first act was played as though it were by DH Lawrence – suffocating middle class convention and repression of women’s lives punctuated by a genuinely raunchy and jarring sex scene. There was genuine chemisty, connection and conflict here among all the actors. Charlie Russell and James Esler were very convincing as Isabelle and Stephen, counterbalanced by Sargon Yelda as the repressive husband and Roger Ringrose as a lascivious local official.
In the second and third acts we shift from pre-war to wartime Picardy, and here we encounter Stephen again as an increasingly cynical officer, juxtaposed with his men, especially the character of Jack Firebrace, played with exquisite grace and sensitivity by Max Bowden, who is the real moral centre of the play. Here the set-pieces are impressive, especially the communal singing of final letters just before the battle starts; but also, just as in the book, the moments of quiet intimacy that are allowed to shine through too, especially the shared confidences between Jack and his best friend Arthur, and the final coming together of Jack and Stephen when they are buried underground.
So while the broader setting of the production militates against the success of the whole, the strength of the underlying narrative and the quality of the acting and creative direction makes this an evening with impressive impact overall. This will not be the last outing of this adaptation, by any means, as this is still very much a story for our times.
Rachel Wagstaff, adapted from the novel by Sebastian Faulks
Director: Alastair Whatley
Cast includes: Max Bowden, Raif Clarke, James Esler, Natalie Radmall-Quirke, Roger Ringrose, Charlie Russell, Sargon Yelda
Until March 8 2025
3 hrs with interval
Photo Credit: Pamela Raith