The racial tension elevates the drama beyond cutthroat office politics and grisly murder.
A taut newsroom thriller about race and integrity, which occasionally gives in to style over substance.
How much can the media be trusted? This dilemma sits at the heart of Tracey Scott Wilson’s 2003 newsroom thriller The Story, making its UK debut at the National Theatre. Although today’s journalists may rely less on cold-calling for their leads, and perhaps care less about painstaking research, this question is as compelling in 2026. Similarly, The Story’s spotlight on racial tension has only gained potency over the last two decades. It’s an urgent, tense narrative that feels bang up–to-date.
The Story opens with two scenes unfolding onstage at once: two teachers drive around the unfriendly neighbourhood where they work, lost; hours later one teacher is in a police interview, her world shattered. Her partner was dragged from the car and shot in a seemingly unprovoked and brutal murder. All she remembers is that the assailant was Black. Next, journalist Yvonne (Letitia Wright) struggles to please new boss, Pat (Lorraine Toussaint, in a blistering performance), having joined an all-Black reporting team at a big newspaper. It’s the culmination of a decades-long fight for Pat, a battleaxe who doesn’t appreciate Yvonne’s flippancy.
But even Pat must acknowledge Yvonne’s skill in securing a breakthrough in the teacher murder story, although fellow reporter Neil (Ashley Thomas) is convinced she’s on the wrong trail. Competing with each other to get the real scoop, Yvonne’s secret relationship with Jeff (Wilf Scolding), the privileged white son of the newspaper’s boss and Pat’s arch nemesis, adds another layer of conflict. It’s a tangled web of loyalties that fuels the political intrigue driving this newsroom drama.
The Story’s simultaneous staging of multiple scenes is a recurrent device throughout the first half. Pat and Jeff narrate their fear of each other’s power in overlapping conversations. A very funny dinner between Yvonne and Neil – each trying to extract information – captures the collision of advice (Black girls like it when you present yourself humbly) with reality. It sounds confusing, but precise lighting and sound cues unite with excellent use of the large stage to make each scene crystal clear. It’s a bold and effective way of contrasting competing narratives, but using the device in almost every scene blunts its impact.
Alongside the diminishing returns of these juxtaposed conversations, there are several slip-ups that feel out of place at the National Theatre. A couple of flubbed lines should have been ironed out in previews; a young Yvonne barely flinches during a vicious beating from her father; and Jeff is reduced to a caricature of stupid white male privilege, incongruous with every other character and their richer conceptions of Blackness. It feels at times like The Story is trying to do too much, and like a good newspaper article would benefit from honing in on its central issue more concisely.
This racial tension is a powerful throughline, elevating the drama beyond cutthroat office politics and grisly murder. Early on, Yvonne’s frustration at being continually sent to cover stories at community centres gives way to a powerful monologue on inequality: community centres are always run by the same type of Black woman, with the same pain behind her eyes, and they’re always right next to the same cut-price liquor store. Schoolyard bullying for being too smart sees Yvonne spray-painted white, a literal judgement of her lack of Blackness. When this racial tension erupts, it’s a fitting and significant narrative conclusion.
Sharp direction and strong acting keep The Story’s twisting story compelling. A tendency to overplay its hand does remove some of the sparkle, but these faults are easy to forgive, particularly when its messages about truth and race feel so of-this-moment. It may just slip off the front page, but it’s an engrossing story nonetheless.
The Story plays at the National Theatre until 24th October, with Wednesday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.