Bacchae by Nima Taleghani – ★★★
Greek tragedy often opens with the shadow of prophecy and the inevitability of fate, and Nima Taleghani’s Bacchae at the National Theatre’s Olivier stage was no exception.
From the first moments, the production was charged with energy: part ritual, part disco, and laced with comedy. If certain beats lacked refinement, the cumulative impact of the evening was one of audacity and memorable spectacle.
The production also marked a milestone: it is the first National Theatre staging under the artistic directorship of Indhu Rubasingham, the institution’s first female director. She launched her tenure with a bold gesture, commissioning Taleghani’s debut play for one of the great stages of British theatre. The choice proved both daring and apt.
Within the opening minutes, the audience was confronted with a blood-soaked white horse, a glowing circular set, and an energetic dance score that won an early ovation.
Taleghani’s retelling follows the band of women known as the Bacchae, led with ferocity and charisma by Vida (Clare Perkins). In the opening scene they step forward one by one to declare their names and allegiances, a chorus of insurgents united by devotion to Dionysos (Ukweli Roach), the god of wine, and, fittingly, theatre.
Draped in costumes that combine street wise edge with ritualistic fluidity, and delivering their lines in rap verse, they move with both swagger and purpose. They embrace pleasure, freedom and intoxication; values that clash head on with the puritanical, misogynistic rule of King Pentheus (James McArdle), who brands them a terrorist organisation.
In this version, the Bacchae’s rebellion takes the form of abducting the queen, Agave (Sharon Small), and leading an uprising against the patriarchal regime. Taleghani’s script slides between MLE cadences and flashes of archaic English; the shifts can feel uneven, but they give the play a restless, hybrid voice that reflects the collision of ancient myth and contemporary politics.
Beneath the action lies a set of enduring questions: is the story, at heart, about a god’s demand for recognition by his mortal cousin, or about the eruption of a suppressed feminine and collective power? Were the Bacchae freedom fighters or zealots? The play keeps these tensions alive, teasing out themes of rationality versus irrationality, gender transgression, and the volatile boundary between the sacred and the violent.
Robert Jones’s set design contributes magnificently: a vast, gleaming arena that shifts from ceremonial space to battlefield. It’s stark, luminous simplicity allows the performers and the choreography to dominate, while suggesting that all these conflicts unfold within the same ritual circle.
The production is not without its flaws. The absence of an interval makes the evening feel longer than it needs to be, and at times the narrative slackens. Yet the cast’s sheer commitment, in particular Perkins’s commanding presence, Roach’s mercurial charm and McArdle’s performance throughout sustains the energy. Additionally, the music and movement often attain a kind of raw magic.
This Bacchae may divide opinion with its tonal shifts and modern vernacular, but it stands as a vivid, provocative reinvention of Euripides’ tragedy and as a striking curtain-raiser for Rubasingham’s new era at the National.
Taleghani’s voice, fresh and unapologetic, finds a fitting stage in this collaboration of two debutants.
★★★
By Eniola Edusi
Bacchae is showing at the National Theatre until 1 November.
