Death of England: Michael West End Reviews

Roy Williams’s brilliance as a writer lies in the way he delicately coils intimacy into Michael’s soul. As much as boiling hated bubbles, he cannot overcome the love that hangs around his neck like a millstone. Coombes’ happy-go-lucky blokey de...

Roy Williams’s brilliance as a writer lies in the way he delicately coils intimacy into Michael’s soul. As much as boiling hated bubbles, he cannot overcome the love that hangs around his neck like a millstone. Coombes’ happy-go-lucky blokey demeanour delivers the knuckle fisted punches, but not all the blows land.

Essiedu really is a force of nature. Totally at ease, working the audience like a stand-up comic, then, with fox-like agility, backstabbing them with guttural force and working up to a symphonic crescendo. For Michael I noted that Roy Williams’s...

Essiedu really is a force of nature. Totally at ease, working the audience like a stand-up comic, then, with fox-like agility, backstabbing them with guttural force and working up to a symphonic crescendo. For Michael I noted that Roy Williams’s brilliance as a writer lies in the way he delicately coils loving intimacy into the character’s DNA. Not matter how tempestuous the storm clouds of paranoia and hate are, a ray of light can always shine through. Watching Essiedu find that light is breath taking.

The world has changed since Clint Dyer and Roy Williams’ sweary, swaggery, dysfunctional near-family first railed about their lives, shaped by Brexit Britain, in fast, fulminating dramatic monologue. As a trilogy of plays, it began with Michael, th...

The world has changed since Clint Dyer and Roy Williams’ sweary, swaggery, dysfunctional near-family first railed about their lives, shaped by Brexit Britain, in fast, fulminating dramatic monologue. As a trilogy of plays, it began with Michael, the son of a racist flower-seller, originally played by Rafe Spall, who told his lairy story at his father’s funeral. Then, a monologue by his Black British best friend, Delroy, about police profiling and his mixed-race relationship with Michael’s sister, Carly. These revivals are updated to reflect our world, post-Covid and post-Boris so we recognise the antagonised politics of class, masculine identity and race hate currently coursing through our society, from far-right violence (Southport is not named but it may as well be) to Nigel Farage.

Staged in rep for the first time and sharing press performances on 30 July, Michael and Delroy have gone off without a hitch, with Closing Time beginning previews on 22 August. While the shows can still be seen individually, they’re dynamite in rep...

Staged in rep for the first time and sharing press performances on 30 July, Michael and Delroy have gone off without a hitch, with Closing Time beginning previews on 22 August. While the shows can still be seen individually, they’re dynamite in rep, the interconnected stories and different narrative perspectives offering a far richer understanding of what it means to be British when viewed together.

Back to back, the plays make Dyer and Williams’s analysis of Britain’s complications prick even deeper. The men are both stuck in states of contradiction: the difference between their thoughts and feelings are articulated throughout. Their presen...

Back to back, the plays make Dyer and Williams’s analysis of Britain’s complications prick even deeper. The men are both stuck in states of contradiction: the difference between their thoughts and feelings are articulated throughout. Their present merges with their past: with a flash of light the language switches from narration to furious action. The world is so vivid that if there’s a weakness here it’s that I longed for more insight into the side characters – there is the sense that this is a series that could roll on, eternally. Full of rage, love, pride and deep bewilderment, these are stories that are grown authentically on British soil and are desperate for a stage.