Shadowlands ★★★★★

Shadowlands is a biographical tale about C.S. Lewis’ life. It is moving and magical, grounded in its themes of love and loss. William Nicholson’s script was first made into a movie for the BBC in 1985, having its first run in the West End in 1989. Now, 40 years later, C.S. Lewis’ biography returns to the stage after a run at Chichester Theatre Festival, where Hugh Bonneville debuted as C.S. Lewis. As a writer by day, evangelist by night and changed by the power of love, C.S. Lewis’ life story still stands as a heart-wrenching allegory on what it means to be truly faithful, and Bonneville makes sure to do him justice in this revival.

Surrounded by ancient looming bookshelves and a solitary Narnia lamppost, Hugh Bonneville gives a vulnerable, understated performance as C.S. Lewis (Jack). Peter McKintosh’s minimal and metaphorical set gives this huge story space to breathe, giving Bonneville space to resonate. Despite his unwavering sensitivity, Bonneville’s first appearance is striking, and his energy never plateaus. With unbridled confidence he strides to centre stage before the lights go down and begins in medias res, lecturing the audience as he would his Oxford students on ideas of pain and suffering. Nicholson’s script is an ongoing conversation that Bonneville boldly begins. He asks his audience: Doesn’t God want us to be happy? Why should we suffer if God can prevent it? Bonneville monologues impressively but speaks with sincerity. From the first minute, you are hooked. By the last minute, you understand there are no good answers.

The play blooms into a world of Oxford scholars in the 1950s, navigating society in a post-war Britain. Underneath hearty laughs, “Chin-Chin!”s, and hilarious line delivery by Timothy Watson and Jeff Rawle, themes of xenophobia towards the Americans and sexist ideas of women are handled tastefully, not shying from the uncongenial reality of C.S. Lewis’ academic lifestyle. Not long after these intellectuals go wax lyrical on faith and American women, the radiant Joy Davidman (Maggie Siff) meets Jack and eventually undoes every preconceived notion. She enters the stage in trousers and a tartan coat, with a witty New York drawl and intimidating intellect. As a director, Rachel Kavanaugh brings out the funny, smart, progressive nature of Joy Davidman and allows for her character to achieve a satisfying dominance over Jack’s male English friends who aim to oppress her.

Set changes in vista keep the dramatic tension unbroken, and the Aldwych Theatre’s turntable stage is a wonderful tool. It facilitates cyclical imagery to create intimacy in the large space; using it to signal a change in time or location adds some theatrical magic that certainly belongs in a C.S. Lewis biography. Certain set pieces reference his children’s books, visible through the eyes of Douglas (Ayrton English), Joy’s son. Though this play is full of beautiful visuals, it’s when the bookshelves open to create a mythical Narnia forest with a huge full moon behind it that is the most stunning image. At one of the most touching parts of the play, when Joy is dying of cancer in hospital, getting married to Jack, this world opens up, where Douglas leaps into the forest to take a magic apple and gift it to his dying mother – a heartwarming reference to C.S. Lewis’ The Magician’s Nephew. Ayrton English is charming as Douglas, and it’s a joy to see somebody so young with such strength on stage.

Rachel Kavanaugh is to be praised for the wonderful pacing of the play. The scenes are directed and timed to within an inch of their lives. Timothy Watson plays Professor Christopher Riley, a chauvinist and friend of Jack’s who has a more laissez-faire attitude to ‘the divine recycling’ of Christianity. With such a character, it’s easy to slip into caricature, but Kavanaugh understands the importance of storytelling and brings out a sensitivity in Watson that allows him to act with total awareness, squeezing the comedy out of every one of his lines. Watson will have you in stitches with his dismissive humour and deprecating wit. Moreover, Bonneville and Jeff Rawle play brothers, and although they look nothing alike, Kavanaugh directs their physicality to ground this brotherhood in a way that is hilarious and believable – they even sit the same way! In a play full of serious sadness, Jeff Rawle brings the necessary comic relief while never upstaging his partners. He times his jokes perfectly all the way through; by the end, his development is a joy to watch as he bonds with little Douglas.

Hugh Bonneville and Maggie Siff are a mesmerising pair. The script gives this duo tricky pockets of dry wit and then sudden seriousness that they deliver with real skill and knowledge of their craft. Every joke lands, which allows the sadness at the heart of this love story to resonate. Maggie Siff’s witty, open, New York deadpan offsets Hugh Bonneville’s charming but tight upper lip; it’s safe to say that Maggie Siff lights up this production as Joy lit up Jack’s life. It is obvious these characters share a real understanding of each other, and the actors never exploit Jack and Joy’s real love. Instead, they explore the dynamic naturally and with ease. When Joy admits her love for Jack for the first time, verbally, in hospital, Jack responds with an uncomfortable and quintessentially British acknowledgement. Though their dynamic is unconventional, it’s beautiful to watch. When the time comes for their onstage relationship to end, you can hear a pin drop in the auditorium. Joy sits in an armchair; Jack drifts off to sleep. After a long, painful silence, the spotlight on Siff fades out; she stands up, folds her blanket and walks away. Everybody knows what’s happened. No words, just some lovely lighting design by Howard Harrison, and Maggie Siff’s poise and control are captivating.

By the end of the play, you can see Jack’s character development as clear as day. He begins as an almost pompous scholar. Joy enters his life, and he is outsmarted for seemingly the first time! As Jack’s worldview alters, the play wanders away from naturalism. Joy’s hospital bed never leaves the set until she leaves hospital, even when Jack is elsewhere. By the end, Jack is a clearly changed man – changed by love and matured by loss. In his closing monologue he returns to his initial question with an answer Joy gave him: ‘The pain now is a part of the happiness then. That’s the deal.’ Nicholson’s scriptwriting will blow you away with its powerful simplicity.

Shadowlands is an example of intimate storytelling with immaculate detail that creates high-quality theatre. Shadowlands is understated, delicate and elegant. Not only is it true that a story of love and loss will continue to resonate as long as the world spins, but the sheer brilliance in Kavanaugh’s thorough direction and Peter McKintosh’s thoughtful design ensure that Nicholson’s writing can resonate with the next generation too.