FringeReview UK 2026

The Misanthrope

National Theatre, London

Genre: Adaptation, Classical and Shakespeare, Comedic, Contemporary, Drama, LGBT, Mainstream Theatre, New Writing, Poetry-Based Theatre, Theatre, Translation

Venue: National Theatre, Lyttelton

Festival: FringeReview UK

Low Down

Review

“My venom is precisely directed” says Alice, Moliere’s original Alceste in this ingenious gender-swapped second take on The Misanthrope.  First adapted and updated in 1996, and enjoying several revivals (notably in 2009) Martin Crimp’s rewritten his version, further refracted it. The Misanthrope “after Moliere“ opens at the National Theatre’s Lyttelton directed by the National’s new artistic director Indhu Rubasingham till August 1.

Crimp’s new version is even further from the original, but with those long speeches even more broken up, livelier and more sheerly theatrical in its blast of 100 minutes. Both texts in one volume show huge differences, occasional word-for-word similarities and a new attempt to inject a little of the dangers of 1666.

What should also be said at once is how Crimp’s already-impressive skill in writing verse-in-translation, substituting for the original’s Alexandrines (which sound ponderous) really zip in the new version. It’s something he gets too little praise for.

The challenge is to place Sandra Oh’s seething, narrow-bore Alice, the whole anchored by Paul Chahidi’s warm reasonable conformist playwright Paul. This Alice – an acclaimed novelist  – speaks like a left-wing Lionel Shriver, attacking right-wing identity politics even more than left: tech-bros, the usual suspects, Gen Z, trust, “privileged white women” too. Alice is at one point in some danger of being cancelled – the nearest to any real danger – for speaking out for Japanese terrorists (that’s Crimp understandably playing safe). Clearly there’s scattergun here, and it might have helped had the targets been fewer: or simply named then focused. That though might have distorted Moliere too far.

The nearest we get is online viral hate doing duty for court tattle. It’s a more dangerous world, certainly, than 1996. Crimp’s re-imagined two minor characters (servants, there even in 1996) as the two coins of youth: influencers in first the crushed fan turned viral enemy Esmée – Imogen Elliott’s puppyish enthusiasm audibly flips as her truly dreadful bumper-to-bumper set of clichés are demolished by Alice; despite John’s ameliorative attempts. And an unexpected help from  Freddie McBruce’s’s Allen: someone who with a flick turns truths upside down. Should Alice be grateful? It’s Allen’s exposition of how to lose enemies and influence people that allows Crimp to smuggle in the online world so viscerally. Valid, but not developed quite enough.

Tom Mison’s star-actor Stefan when he appears is as oleaginous, charming and actorly as anyone could wish. He’s not quite as clever as Moliere’s original Célemine, though as scheming and duplicitous. It’s almost impossible to get Célemine’s fierce heartlessness across (from whatever sting of misogyny Moliere harboured), and Stefan’s less interesting. You don’t quite see a fight of equals but that’s also because Alice is freighted with being a major writer. Still, Stefan’s great ability to conjure allies is a talent: danger lies in Stefan’s packaged minders.

Stefan’s ex though, Jemima Rooper’s Elaine, is built up: with her riffing on Tristan chords as metaphors and the world of conducting, Crimp’s own experiences of writing libretti for George Benjamin makes her, with childcare issues and nasty tricks by Stefan, a more substantial figure.

Abigail Cruttenden’s laser-focused Clare, looking for every exit, and Rina Fatania’s shrewd Indira, make up Stefan’s entourage. There’s a liveliness and snappiness, despite this being slightly longer than before (though far less than Moliere). A smattering of fourth-walling jokes – including audiences standing to applaud on a first-night – go down well. It’s a version that Alice should hate, it’s so popular. But populist it isn’t, though edged with shorter attention-spans and 21^st century distaste for a serried rank of long tirades.

Robert Jones’ svelte design lit by Tim Lutkin is almost an apotheosis of splendour, tipping over into the kind of opulence Alice should detest. It adds several layers after the first scene, with the kind of corporate abstract paintings you’d see more in a business suite; with nods to the baroque in reds and a splendour that allows the fancy-dress – of Louis XIX naturally – to flourish (one thing Crimp retained from his earlier version, though John is incongruously impersonating Moliere). Anna Meredith, her music often distinguished by gently disruptive, distinctive rhythms, provides a surprisingly smooth score; piquant in the final Louis XIV scenes.

The ensemble’s swelled by Niamh James, Amir Matthews, Scott Sparrow, Gabby Wong.

This Misanthrope plays out swiftly and cleanly, more so than before. The challenge, apart from double-distilled Crimp/Moliere, is focus. Through-lines are character-driven, not carrying the background corruption and evils giving rise to Alice’s motivations. To be fair these have always proved notoriously tricky; even Moliere didn’t score a triumph. Oh and Chahidi give real heft to their roles nevertheless, and triumphantly reinvent them.

The very swiftness and efficiency of this production though, tell against what seems at stake. It’s still something to see two French classics – one an adaptation – play back-to-back at the Lyttelton. Les Liaisons Dangereuses had a dance-of-death energy, if not the last word in devastation, despite Lesley Manville’s power. This Moliere, with Oh commanding too, seems slightly less urgent though eminently worth seeing. It’s still impressive, and in Crimp’s rhymes a delight which you almost don’t notice; till you do. Moliere’s dark laughter can dissolve if a bright contemporary glare doesn’t cast enough shadows.

Sound Design Alexander Caplan, Movement and Intimacy Director Lucy Hind, Fight Director Sam Lyon-Behan, Casting Directors Alastair Coomer CDG, Martin Poile CDG, Voice Coach Jeannette Nelson, Assistant Voice Coach Zoe Littleton, Fight Director Kate Waters, Associate Director Gitka Buttoo, Associate Set and Costume Designer Ethan Cheek.

Producer Padraig Cusack, Production Manager Kate Chapman, Dramaturg Clare Slater, CSM Ian Farmery, DSM Jo Nield, ASMs Sophie Alice Cooper and Aida Bourdis, DSM Cover Emily Porter, ASM Cover Lucy Napier

Project Draughting Nathan James and Alan Bain, Digital Art Daniel Radley-Bennett, Costume Supervisor Karen Large, Assistant Costume Supervisor Sydney Florence. Wigs Hair & Make-Up Supervisor Adele Brandman.

Published July 31, 2026 by Simon Jenner