The Line of Beauty is dazzling and devastating

The Line of Beauty
Almeida theatre, London, until November 29

The distinguished director Michael Grandage staging Alan Hollinghurst’s The Line of Beauty counts as a Theatrical Event with a capital T and a capital E and the stakes could not have been higher for all concerned on opening night. The very notion of putting such a long, thoughtful and nuanced book on to the boards – it defined Margaret Thatcher’s Britain – was in principle preposterous, but somehow, unbelievably, it works thanks not least to Jack Holden’s focused but empathetic adaptation.

Seldom, if ever, do stage productions make me cry these days, but this one did. It brought back often painful memories of a decade that is vivid in my memory: my own career taking off with a staff job on the Observer, anything seeming possible for me as an individual and for the country as a whole, but all around me a hardness coming to the fore in the national psyche and AIDS, stealthily at first and then with raw savagery, taking away some of the best and brightest among us.

It is invidious to pick out individuals in such a strong ensemble, but there are mesmerising performances from Francesca Amewudah-Rivers as the sister of a young AIDS victim, Charles Edwards as a thrusting Tory MP, Robert Portal as his loathsome businessman friend, and, as two doomed young men, Alistair Nwachukwu and Arty Froushan. Ellie Bamber is so good as the Tory MP’s wife that it’s hard to believe she hasn’t strayed on to the stage direct from a hustings.

Suggested Reading

Remember this name: Hiran Abeysekera is going to be a star

Tim Walker

At the heart of it all, Jasper Talbot, as the archetypal yuppie who moves in to the Tory MP’s home and gets in the process a ringside seat of the Thatcherite revolution – and even gets to dance with the lady herself – is a smart enough actor to appreciate that it isn’t his job to dominate the proceedings but to observe. It’s only in the final scene does he really begin to process what it is he has lived through.

Christopher Oram’s set elegantly defines this emotional rollercoaster of a decade, and, while it’s a good-looking, even glossy production, there is a humanity at the heart of it that is perhaps more than can be said for the decade itself. Theatre that is as important as this is seldom also so seductive, but this production manages somehow to be both.

My view of this play – along with the rest of the critics – is ultimately immaterial given it’s Hollinghurst’s book, and, on opening night, he was leading the standing ovation and went home looking like a man feeling that justice had been done.