Written by George Orwell

Adapted by Chris Hannan

Directed by Dominic Hill

Review by Dominic Corr

The Citizens Theatre

There’s a magnificent sense of coming full circle in reviewing any staging of George Orwell’s 1984. Writing a piece where readers engage with and share an independent opinion on a creative work is a privilege many of us take for granted. Initially, any fears that it plays into the irony of blind praise or controlled opinion go out the window with free and independent critique. Because really, it’s a celebration of what Orwell’s novel cherishes: freedom of thought, opinion, and rejection of totalitarian control.

The co-production between The Citizens Theatre, Dundee Rep, and The Royal Lyceum sees the three producing houses come together to pool talent to open the Citizens’ post-summer season with a juggernaut of literacy and cultural impact. Its harsh totalitarian world-building has been reimagined the world over. Here, Tom Piper’s design plays effortlessly into that ‘celebration’ of British industrialism, warped, antiquated and brutal architecture and asylum-like claustrophobia. For all of its cold moments and shifting set design, the significant absence of colour makes the fleeting uses of crimson, green or blue pop with a feverish desire to see more. It’s a canvas for Lizzie Powell’s lighting, a real champion of the production, and in tandem with the various scoring and sound creations with a cripplingly effective and atmospheric score from Nikola Kodjabashia’s themes and settings of Orwell with live piano (Zrey Sholapurkar) and voice (Irene Allan) pierced by analogue electronic compositions and party anthem from Phineas de Thornley Head, plus Mark Melville‘s sound design.

And trapped within is Jack Tarlton’s Winston; the phlegmatic everyman at the centre of Big Brother’s gaze. A low-ranking worker for the ruling Party, Winston’s sparks of intelligence and free-thinking, once a gift to the department of Truth (which re-writes history), become an issue. Particularly once love comes into play, with Julia, a co-worker who pushes back through recreational sex, black market dealings, and a thirst to live life, here captured fiercely by Jessica Hardwick. They make an engaging pair of protagonists, their initial flirtations with humour and connection to the audience put to the real test in the production’s more destructive second act; with some truly savage moments not shied from.

Surrounding Chris Hannan’s adaptation is a slew of characters across the party, the workforce, and outside the party’s influence. Robert Jack, who has turned in a tremendously impressive run at the Citizens with his largely ensemble and doubling performances, once more confirms the necessity for a central and principal role in the future. Whether charismatic or snivelling, deadpan or jester-like, Jack matches the tones of the production. He, along with Tarlton and Irene Allan, has the additional distinction of performing the production’s ‘other’ story, a more historical and playful element which places Orwell themselves into the action. Additionally, Irene MacDougall and Peter Collins, Neshla Caplan, and Zrey Sholapurkar fill out the production’s more characters – each offering something poignant to the interpretation and handling the production’s use of gallows humour in a way only a Scottish production can.

Pinched between two extremes, Dominic Hill’s direction strikes most for the production’s grittiness and violence; but in true to Orwell’s ambition to speak through the undercurrent, rather than violent spectacle, its real pangs coming not from the physical brutality, but from its undercurrent of contemporary resonance and its more honest admittances of defeat. And at two hours and fifty minutes, it matches the novel’s intensity. This is an ordeal; but in many ways, 1984 should be.

Now, more than ever, cropping up all too often across journalism and all fields is a lack of trust in truth, and controlled narratives. And while far from unique or new, influencer and visual culture, podcasts, and privately owned outlets which prioritise a controlled, advertised viewpoint render the rarest currency we have left scarcer; truth. So, here’s a truth: 1984 is a devastatingly visceral, powerful demonstration of Scottish theatre. For any faults it may have, and some it does, it is a piece to be inherently proud of.

If language be a weapon, sharpen those tongues. Because, if anything, the battle is about to get a whole lot worse. And with productions like 1984 leading the charge, there’s a dangerous sense of hope rippling across audiences this evening. One which every schoolchild, voter, or abstainer should wake up and pay attention to.

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