Man and Boy - National Theatre ★★★★

When Terence Rattigan was writing Man and Boy in the sixties, his popularity had waned. From the golden boy of British theatre, churning out hit after hit between the 1930s and 1950s, he had come to be considered stale and conservative. His work focused on upper middle-class characters with classic British reserve, repressed emotions, and stiff upper lips. This contrasted starkly with the output of emerging British ‘Angry Young Men’ (such as John Osborne and Kingsley Amis), focused on working-class realism and social criticism, and with the American ‘Beat Generation’ (including Jack Kerouac), who embraced experimental, spontaneous writing. With Man and Boy, Rattigan moved away from his usual settings and characters, but it failed to change public opinion, proving to be a flop on release.

The scene is Greenwich Village, New York; the year 1934. We are in the Great Depression. Struggling Eastern European financier Gregor Antonescu arrives at the apartment of his estranged son. Here, in a small, cheap apartment, at the (then) wrong end of town, unfolds the story of what a man will do, and who he will exploit, to achieve success and riches. Spoiler: anything and everyone.

With passing time, Rattigan has regained his reputation as a great English playwright. It is not uncommon to see his works performed in London. Their staging, however, often does little to denounce his image as a writer of period dramas with limited modern-day resonance. 2025’s Deep Blue Sea at the Theatre Royal, 2013’s The Winslow Boy at The Old Vic, and 2005’s Man and Boy at the Duchess Theatre; if there’s one thing they have in common, it’s a lovingly crafted, perfectly recreated, period-appropriate living room.

With 2026’s Man and Boy at the National, Georgia Lowe, set and costume designer, has (literally) turned the tables on that perceived wisdom. Performed in the round, visibility is key, so she has no truck with walls. On a bare, green baize floor resembling a snooker table, we have three simple, rectangular tables, a handful of chairs, a piano, a clothes rack, and a phone. At a later point there will be a briefcase and some computer printouts. Over the course of two acts, the cast will lie on, sit at, stand on, and walk over the tables, and it will seem perfectly appropriate.

The drama opens with Basil Anthony (Laurie Kynaston), estranged son of Gregor Antonescu, entwined with girlfriend Carol Penn (Phoebe Campbell) on the bed (Tables 1 and 2). Carol is a scene-setter, not a central character, but Campbell moves lightly and brings just the right combination of delicate and tough to this New Yorker, convincing as half of a languid couple with Kynaston’s damaged, possibly alcoholic, Basil.

The energy and tension shift when Gregor Antonescu (Ben Daniels) enters. Gregor is lithe and intense, teetering on the brink of breakdown and disaster but scheming and manipulative, hiding his malevolence behind a mask of charm. Daniels is full of unpredictable, explosive energy, shifty and dangerous like a cornered tiger. The theatre programme lists Ben’s many theatrical roles, and, watching this performance, one is in no doubt why so many of them attracted award nominations.

Nick Fletcher is Sven Johnson, Gregor’s right-hand man, his fixer, Thomas Cromwell to his Henry VIII—loyal, complicit, sullied, and scheming to protect himself whilst also serving his master. It’s a brilliant supporting performance, in both senses.

There are only three other characters.

Malcom Sinclair plays Mark Herries, who has it in his power to save Gregor. A complex character forced to hide part of himself in the shadows, Sinclair imbues Herries with a convincing vulnerability. Leo Wan is David Beeston, the accountant whose work seems to have scuppered the deal that could save Gregor. The role provides light relief, and Wan’s timing and physicality are spot-on. Isabella Laughland is Countess Antonescu. Abused by Gregor but so unlikable it’s impossible to feel sorry for her, the Countess appears to exist only to reflect Gregor’s character and remind us that we reap what we sow. Laughland makes the best of it.

The sparse simplicity of the set frees Man and Boy from temporal chains and makes the story feel relevant and contemporary, with Aline David’s choreography and Anthony Lau’s direction perfectly synchronised to the same effect. It is a compliment to say that the music, sound, and lighting were barely noticeable—they supported the production perfectly and allowed the powerful performances to take centre stage.

Rattigan was inspired by a real-life character from the thirties, but this bravely minimalist, stripped-back production feels wholly contemporary as we watch a rabidly corrupt mogul destroying his child, with his emotions shut down, unbound by morality, in exchange for ambition and money.