Ava Pickett’s 1536 arrives in the West End with considerable acclaim behind it, and this transfer to the Ambassadors Theatre confirms that the fuss is justified. Directed with precision by Lyndsey Turner, this is a bold, unsettling and frequently darkly funny debut that uses Tudor history as a lens through which to examine the enduring realities of women’s lives.
The play opens with news that Queen Anne Boleyn has been arrested, a moment that ripples unevenly through a rural Essex community. Jane rushes in breathless with the gossip, but Anna’s response is strikingly indifferent. What does the fate of a queen matter when survival at home feels far more immediate? It is a line that lands with knowing weight, drawing a quiet parallel between court politics and the everyday struggles of modern life.
At its heart, 1536 is about female friendship and the compromises imposed by a patriarchal society. The central trio meet in a field that serves as their refuge, a place for confession, laughter and mutual support. Siena Kelly’s Anna brims with restless energy, her flirtation with independence and sexual freedom delivered with a disarming candour that keeps the audience constantly on edge. Kelly captures both the exhilaration and the risk of stepping outside expectation, giving Anna a thrilling unpredictability.
Liv Hill offers a striking counterpoint as Jane. Her performance is tightly controlled, almost brittle, revealing a young woman determined to do the right thing even when instinct suggests otherwise. Hill finds the quiet tragedy in Jane’s choices, allowing flashes of doubt to surface beneath her composure. It is a carefully judged turn that grows in emotional weight as the play unfolds.
Tanya Reynolds completes the trio with a beautifully shaded Mariella. There is a softness to her presence, but also a simmering frustration, particularly in her work as a midwife. Reynolds conveys Mariella’s uncertainty with nuance, suggesting a woman who feels trapped between duty and self-doubt, neither fully conforming nor rebelling. The chemistry between the three performers is exceptional, grounding the play’s more heightened moments in something tangible and deeply human.
The male presence is minimal but purposeful. Brief appearances from Oliver Johnstone’s Richard and George Kemp’s William are keenly observed, each performance laced with an easy entitlement that underscores the casual misogyny surrounding the women. They are not caricatures, which makes their impact all the more unsettling.
Pickett’s writing is sharp and confident, shifting with ease between humour and brutality. There are moments that provoke audible gasps, followed swiftly by laughter that feels almost like release. Not every choice lands perfectly. The frequent use of strong language, while initially effective, begins to feel excessive, occasionally dulling the impact of more nuanced moments. Similarly, the narrative arc becomes somewhat predictable as it builds towards its darker conclusions.
Max Jones’s set remains constant, a stretch of tall grass that subtly transforms through Jack Knowles’s atmospheric lighting, while Tingying Dong’s sound design punctuates scenes with jolting bursts that heighten the tension. It is an effective approach, though the relentless pace over nearly two hours can feel unrelieved. An interval might have offered a welcome pause.
Even so, the production rarely loosens its grip. Anchored by a trio of performances that feel both authentic and urgent, 1536 may be rooted in the past, but its concerns feel uncomfortably present. This is a provocative and accomplished work that marks Pickett as a distinctive new voice in British theatre. Smart, savage and strikingly relevant theatre.
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