Visually stunning but disjointed
“Birdsong” at the Liverpool Playhouse is an ambitious and emotional adaptation of Sebastian Faulks’ beloved novel. Alastair Whatley, the director, acknowledged the “acute responsibility” of bringing such a well-loved work to the stage, a sentiment that certainly rings true for those reviewing the production. When war surrounds us, how does a play about a war that should “never again” happen to make us feel? With an expansive narrative and harrowing subject matter, this stage version strives to capture the grandeur and intimacy of the novel, but it doesn’t quite hit all the marks.
At over two and a half hours, the play sometimes feels weighed down by an excess of unnecessary details that, while adding some historical color, slow the pacing. This is especially noticeable in a production where the episodic structure makes the transitions between scenes feel loose, at times struggling to maintain cohesion. The fragmented nature of the narrative leaves the emotional intensity diluted, as we jump from moment to moment without a clear throughline. For people who had contact with the material for the first time in this form, it might be head-scratching to understand the transition to the second act especially – what happened with our hero?
That said, Richard Kent’s set design is a triumph. His use of a single-sloped wood panel to represent everything from underground tunnels to battlefields is both simple and evocative. After all, almost all wars look the same in the eyes of the ones that are on the battlefield. The design highlights the starkness of war, though it shines more in the play’s earlier, more delicate moments, where the visual grace of pre-war France is beautifully rendered.
In terms of performances, the cast gives a strong showing. James Esler makes a commendable professional debut as Stephen Wraysford, anchoring much of the play’s emotional weight. Max Bowden delivers a tour de force performance as Jack Firebrace, with his struggle to reconcile faith and loss providing some of the production’s most poignant moments. His transformation, particularly after the death of his son, is palpable and moving.
While Natalie Radmall-Quirke is captivating as Jeanne, Isabelle’s sister, the portrayal of Isabelle herself (whom Wraysford is inexplicably infatuated with) lacks the emotional depth to justify his obsession. There is a disconnect here that makes Isabelle’s allure somewhat baffling. The supporting cast does well to enrich the world of the play, though some characters, such as Berard and Rene, occasionally veer into caricature, detracting from the overall tone.
Rachel Wagstaff’s adaptation is mostly successful, though some changes from the book feel puzzling and the piece could have benefited from tighter editing. The sound design by Dominic Bilkey is effective, with several moments of genuine shock that remind the audience of the brutality of war—a commendable achievement in a stage play. Likewise, Sophie Cotton’s score adds a layer of haunting musicality that enhances the atmosphere.
In conclusion, “Birdsong” is a visually striking and emotionally charged production, but one that ultimately feels too sprawling and disjointed to fully resonate. The performances are impressive, particularly Bowden and Radmall-Quirke, but the adaptation struggles to balance the epic scale of the novel with the demands of the stage. Despite its flaws, the production captures the horrors of war with a raw and visceral energy, making for a moving, if imperfect, theatrical experience.