Review: Man and Boy
in the Dorfman Theatre @ the National until March 14th 2026
Director: Anthony Lau
Writer: Terence Rattigan
Cast: Ben Daniels, Laurie Kynaston, Phoebe Campbell, Malcolm Sinclair & Nick Fletcher
This cynical tale of financial malfeasance, though written in the sixties about men in the thirties, feels remarkably contemporary and fresh. Eerie parallels exist between the play’s protagonist - corrupt, sinister financier Gregor Antonescu - and Jeffrey Epstein, and there is more than a flicker of Ghislaine Maxwell in both Antonescu’s confidante, Sven, and his wife, whose “Countess” title Gregor bought for her. References are made to the catalogue of totalitarians, fascists and Nazis with whom Antonescu has made deals and investments, while he keeps a dossier on his rivals, friends and even his own son, Basil, which he uses to blackmail and exploit them.
In Anthony Lau’s revival, all of these parallels take centre stage, and quite literally: the production is staged in the round as though it is an actual theatrical performance designed to expose how deep the rot of corruption and perversion has set in an economy entirely beholden to the whims of monstrous men. The cast list adorns the back wall, their names in lights whenever they are present on stage, and the minimalist, anachronistic set is slowly dismantled and stripped away while the lights descend from the ceiling to draw our attention to the fact that this - all of it; all of the sleaze and the grubby dealing - is all just theatre distilled to its purest form. It’s a show trial, not of a man but rather of a system that is devoid of humanity.
This system is personified in Antonescu, who Ben Daniels plays like some ageless, tireless vampire. He stalks the stage like a vast shadow, his presence dominating over everyone and everything. He is sleazy, depraved and inescapably charming, and Daniels’ performance is magnificent. His demeanour is heightened, almost frenzied, yet there is a real subtlety to how he portrays Antonescu’s conflicted feelings for his son, Basil, and in how he shifts seamlessly from ecstasy to rage and, ultimately, resignation as the dizzying high of act one, when he appears to overcome the most insurmountable challenge, surrenders to inevitable downfall in act two.
Given Daniels’ sheer forcefulness of presence on stage, it is difficult for the rest of the cast to wrest control or attention away from him, but both Laurie Kynaston and Nick Fletcher, as Basil and Sven, do excellent work meeting him. Basil is a pitiable wretch who is unable to disown his father, no matter how cruelly he is treated, and Kynaston portrays the complexities of his relationship with his father with considerable aplomb. He is nervy and full of hatred for his father, yet he just cannot abandon him. Fletcher, meanwhile, plays Sven as an apprentice learning from a great master. He is loyal, quiet and deeply calculating, and his shift to self-preservation in the final stretch works so well because Fletcher’s performance is, save for a brief and brilliant moment of unfettered mania, so calm and considered.
This is, so far, my show of the year. Rattigan’s script, which is so unlike so much of his other work, is intelligent and perverse, and Lau’s production imbues it with a real tricksy energy. Daniels, Kynaston and Fletcher are excellent, and the timelessness of the characterisation is handled with appropriate subtlety. Act two isn’t quite as captivating or interesting as act one, and a couple of the performances fade into the background when Daniels is so dominant and, indeed, domineering, but these are minor quibbles: this is a superb production of a fantastically knotty play, and I fully recommend experiencing just how nasty it is.
Score: ⭐⭐⭐⭐