Guildhall’s The Winter’s Tale is a creative and engaging take on a tricky play, with strong performances and smart design choices.
There’s a certain ease that comes with walking into Silk Street Theatre, a space that feels open, unpretentious, and focused on the work itself rather than on spectacle. That atmosphere set the tone for an evening that felt more like an exploration than a polished performance, appropriate, really, for a student production where experimentation and bold choices are the point.
Tonally split down the middle, the play begins in the icy grip of jealousy, suspicion, and death, only to later dissolve into pastoral comedy and redemption. It’s a famously difficult balance to strike, and while this production made a sincere effort, the shift from one world to the other remained jarring.
The first half was clearly the stronger of the two, with a mood that stayed tightly focused on the emotional damage caused by Leontes’ spiral into irrational jealousy. The actors brought intensity to the stage: jealousy, fury and grief. The design was subtle but evocative: a transparent screen like a wide window that concealed (or revealed depending on whose point of view we refer to) spaces both literal and psychological—the imagined garden where Leontes visualises betrayal, the ward-like room where his son dies, and a quiet recess where his wife is hidden from the world. These spatial metaphors were thoughtful, functional, and poetic.
But as the production transitioned into the second half, the energy shifted—almost too much. Songs, dancing, softer light, and a buoyant atmosphere made it feel, at times, like a completely different production. It’s a challenge built into the play, but here, the shift felt more like a rupture than a transformation. The introduction of music added charm but also diluted the tension, pushing the piece toward something that teetered on the edge of musical theatre.
There were also some heavy cuts to the text, which, while helping with pacing, did come at the expense of character development. Leontes’ emotional arc in particular suffered—his abrupt transformation from paranoid tyrant to humbled penitent came too quickly, lacking the complexity the first half had carefully built.
Still, there was much to admire. Some of the performances were genuinely moving, with certain actors managing to bring real depth and clarity to their roles. And perhaps most importantly, the company showed a willingness to take risks, to play with tone and texture, and to make strong visual and musical choices. The performance that really stood out for me was Jessica-Jayne Mannion as Paulina. She had this incredible mix of strength and honesty that made every scene she was in feel grounded and real. Whether she was fiercely defending Hermione or holding the room with just a quiet look, she brought such a clear emotional depth to the role. There was nothing forced about it—it all felt natural, and she made Paulina feel like the heart of the story. Definitely my favourite performance of the night.
This wasn’t a flawless production, but it wasn’t trying to be. It was curious, courageous, and full of potential—qualities that make me excited to see where these performers and directors go next. Guildhall has once again proven to be a space where bold theatre begins.