Last year, I signed up for Capital Theatres’ under-25 £10 ticket scheme, and I have been thoroughly enjoying the freedom it’s given me to return to live theatre. I’d deeply urge anyone eligible to do the same, as there is nothing quite like the rush of refreshing the website at 00:01, hoping to snag a seat to watch something brilliant for a fraction of the cost. It makes theatre — that old, glittering world of shared stories — feel within reach again.
My first show back after years away from the stage was Nick Stafford’s adaptation of Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse in October. Watching the puppetry breathe life into the story, and feeling the collective hush of the audience, I felt deeply moved in a way that I believe only live performance can evoke. There is a tangible emotional current in the theatre — a sense of being moved with people, rather than alone behind a screen or page.
Thus — unsurprisingly, a couple of weeks later — I found myself once again at the Festival Theatre for Aaron Sorkin and Bartlett Sher’s stage adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird, and, unsurprisingly, I fell in love all over again. Having never formally studied Lee’s 1960 novel, I booked the ticket spontaneously and chose to go solo. The lovely older couple beside me struck up a conversation and, by the interval, insisted on buying me ice cream whilst telling me about their long-held ritual of weekly theatre visits. It was a reminder that theatre isn’t just something you watch — it’s an experience you truly share.
It wasn’t just the sweet treats and sweeter company that made the evening special. Sher’s production is striking in both design and storytelling. The set moves fluidly between courtroom pews and childhood memory, and Sorkin’s non-linear structure lets young Scout, Jem, and Dill guide us through the dusty streets of Maycomb, Alabama with the clarity and confusion only children can bring. Their chorus-style narratorial voices anchor the story in innocence, whilst Dylan Malyn’s professional debut as dreamer Dill offers moments of whiplash humour that make the darker complexities hit even harder.
Richard Coyle’s Atticus Finch brings a weary humanity to a character so often treated as a saintly monument. Calpurnia, played excellently by Andrea Davy, is granted a clearer, stronger voice than in many previous interpretations, shining a spotlight on the problematic flaws in Atticus’ doctrine to treat everyone (even a disgustingly racist lynch mob) with respect. The adaptation reminds us that Harper Lee’s story — though written over half a century ago — still asks us to decide what justice really means, and what it demands of us individually.
“Getting the red carpet fitted for the premiere of Macbeth at Edinburgh Festival Theatre” by Karen V Bryan is licensed under CC BY-ND 2.0.