Review: THE LAND OF THE LIVING, National Theatre
Photo credit: Manuel Harlan
David Lan’s The Land of the Living, directed by Stephen Daldry, is an ambitious and affecting piece of theatre. At its centre is the story of Thomas, one of thousands of children stolen from their families in Eastern Europe during the Second World War and placed in German households, and Ruth, a young 20 year old UN relief worker faced with the impossible decision of whether to return him to his parents or leave him with those he has grown up to know as family at the end of the war. The play shifts between 1945 and 1990, as the now older Ruth and Thomas revisit the choices made in a time gone by and the consequences that reverberate decades later.
The context for the play references Himmler’s so-called Lebensborn programme which sought to construct a pure Aryan race, partly by abducting children from countries such as Poland and Ukraine. These children were chosen for their appearance and supposed genetic ability to assimilate. Many of these children were adopted into German families and brainwashed which lead to growing up with confused identities and uncertain allegiances. Lan’s play, while fictionalised, draws from these real accounts, giving voice to a generation torn apart by ideology.
Juliet Stevenson as Ruth is wonderful, effortlessly embodying both Ruth’s younger and present state as is Tom Wlaschiha as the older Thomas. He brings depth and a lingering vulnerability to the role. As the 10-year-old Thomas is a more fresh-faced Artie Wilkinson-Hunt who emerges as a standout. With poise well beyond his years, he never misses a beat shifting between several languages fluidly and delivering moments of raw honesty that cut through the adult dialogue around him. His presence embodying the contradictions of innocence caught in history’s cruelty.
Stephen Daldry’s direction holds Lan’s story with a steady hand. Known for productions that balance political urgency with emotional detail, he is a fitting match for this material. His wider commitments as Chairman of refugee arts charity Good Chance add resonance, underscoring his longstanding engagement with stories of human rights.
Designer Miriam Buether makes strong use of traverse staging, creating intimacy and scale as the narrative shifts between past and present. Gareth Fry’s sound design is sharp and effective, punctuating moments without overwhelming. The ensemble supports with consistency and care, offering nuance across multiple roles. The multilingual texture of the production is integral to its storytelling, underlining the unrest at its core. Credit must go to dialect and language coach Victoria Woodward and voice coach Cathleen McCarron, whose work ensures the multilingual exchanges across the ensemble are delivered with precision and emotional poignancy.
Where the play stumbles is in its length and density. The factual weight of the subject warrants time, yet extended exposition slows the pace and risks losing dramatic immediacy. At times, questions are asked and answered in a repetitive pattern, or the writing presses harder than necessary on points already carried by the relationships on stage. One wonders if more could be said by allowing space, trusting the human interaction with the situation.
Still, The Land of the Living resonates. Ruth’s question, “Did I do something wrong?” in reference to trying to make a wrong right but not without consequences lingers. Without hindsight, how could anyone know? What happens to those who lose a war, who must accept defeat? The National Theatre has delivered a production both historical and powerful, it reminds us of the lasting scars of conflict, carried most clearly in the voices of the young which can be a lesson for all.
**** Four stars
Reviewed by: Stephanie Osztriecher
