Kiln Theatre’s world premiere of Coven, directed by Olivier Award winner Miranda Cromwell, promises a bold reimagining of the Pendle Witch Trials. With music and lyrics by Rebecca Brewer and Grammy Award-winning Daisy Chute, the production sets out to explore themes of injustice, misogyny and hysteria through a female-led ensemble of thirteen actor-musicians. It is an ambitious concept, but one that struggles to find clarity in its storytelling.
The narrative centres on Jenet (Gabrielle Brooks), once a nine-year-old who accused her own family of witchcraft, now imprisoned two decades later and facing the same charge. The first act introduces the women sharing her cell and hints at the political and religious forces at play. However, the second act veers into uneven territory, adopting a ghostly visitation reminiscent of A Christmas Carol before returning to a rallying cry of rebellion. These shifts in tone—from farcical to deadly serious—leave the piece feeling disjointed and uncertain of its own identity.
Brewer’s book attempts to tackle weighty issues, yet often reduces them to slogans or single songs. The show aspires to the feminist empowerment of Six while flirting with the gravitas of Les Misérables, but never fully commits to either. Characters lack consistency, some written with authentic 17th-century cadence while others speak like modern TikTok influencers, peppering dialogue with expletives. This inconsistency undermines the dramatic stakes and makes it difficult to invest in their journeys.
Where Coven succeeds is in its music. Chute and Brewer’s score blends folk-noir textures with soaring anthems, offering moments of genuine power even when the narrative falters. Numbers such as Burn Our Bodies showcase the ensemble’s vocal strength and Cromwell’s dynamic staging. Gabrielle Brooks delivers an outstanding performance as Jenet, navigating the character’s turmoil with nuance and commanding presence. Shiloh Coke impresses in multiple roles, her haunting vocals among the evening’s highlights. Diana Vickers, however, feels underused in a dual role that never quite capitalises on her talents.
Visually, Jasmine Swan’s set and Zeynep Kepekli’s lighting conjure an atmospheric world, and the integration of actor-musicians adds vitality. Yet these strengths cannot mask a book that feels more like a checklist of themes than a compelling narrative. For a story rooted in real historical injustice, Coven ultimately fails to do justice to the women it seeks to honour.
There is much to admire in the ambition and artistry behind this production, and its commitment to female voices is commendable. But ambition alone cannot substitute for coherence. Coven is a show with power in its veins, yet its heart remains elusive.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
