Atonement - Chichester Festival Theatre ★★★★

Adapted from the beloved Ian McEwan novel, Atonement tells the story of Briony Tallis, who believes she witnesses a crime whilst growing up in her family’s country manor house. Her naive adamancy about the “facts” goes on to have devastating effects on her family, notably her sister and her young lover, Robbie. It’s a story of epic scale against a fraught Second World War backdrop. Its subsequent star-studded screen adaptation went on to be nominated for multiple Academy Awards, cementing it as a modern classic and much-loved tale.

Coming to the stage for the first time, this Chichester Festival Theatre production has a stylish, minimalist beauty, largely brought to life by an effective and dynamic projection design by Andrzej Goulding. Pulsing borders of light draw your eye around Anthony Ward‘s chic set design. The culmination is a restrained elegance that allows a cinematic ease of movement between the various locations and time frames. Add Alexandra Faye Braithwaite‘s beautiful score to the mix, and you have a winning combination in this audio/visual treat.

The performances across the board are what really hold proceedings together, and fans of the movie will be pleased to see the characters imagined in a similar light. Isabella Dempster brings razor-sharp focus to Briony’s coming-of-age realisations, juxtaposed with the oppressive resentment of Miriam Petche as Cecilia.

Together they create a tension that lingers throughout the night, even as they disappear from view. There’s a wonderful sense of familial distance between them, first due to the age difference between the characters and then, in turn, the depth of the narrative betrayal. They both give sensitive and nuanced performances, providing a stunning pivot point for the production.

Jasper Talbot is a charming Robbie, full of optimism and cautious romance. He manages to convey both his endless love and lasting bitterness with a shifting mania, bringing out the true horrors of men who return from war fragile and scarred.

The crystal clarity of these characters from the moment the house lights dim establishes the important footing to lead us to the play’s heartbreaking conclusion. Each performance subtly pulls against another like an elastic band ready to snap.

Where this production really struggles to find its feet is in the adaptation itself and Adam Penford‘s meandering direction. There’s a painful disconnect between the story being told and the mode of telling it. We lose any sense that this transition to stage adds new depth or meaning to the story, only that it weakens what’s been so remarkably conjured in other iterations.

The direction is most successful when leaning into its theatricality. Moments of subtle ensemble movement, stylised scene changes and multi-roling give some much-needed space to discover its own shape as a work for the stage, though, unfortunately, these moments are few and far between, with the production often taking safety in the well-drawn world of the movie.

This isn’t helped by Christopher Hampton‘s adaptation, which feels like a lacklustre imitation of the dialogue we’ve witnessed elsewhere, too afraid to find fresh moments and new character developments. It feels like a missed opportunity to bring new vigour to a story that’s fully loaded with drama and emotion. An almost shy collaboration, too tentative to make the bold strides to transport us to the story’s restless climax.

But what Atonement lacks in ambition, it makes up for in competency. The narrative is clearly and concisely executed with a deftness of touch and a fitting regimency that echoes both upper-class stiffness and wartime refrain.

Atonement is not a production that aims to reinvent the wheel nor make it any more than it already was. It’s beautifully crafted and works just as it should; never failing, but never surprising either.