The Orange Tree in Richmond, under Tom Littler, continues to deliver some quite remarkable theatrical events in its intimate immersive in‑the‑round setting. His approach of asking famous names what they would like to do seems to be working well. After 2025’s extraordinary Poor Clare, Creditors, Hedda and The Rivals, 2026 continues with Dance of Death, adapted by Richard Eyre from August Strindberg’s 1900 play and directed by him. Reset in 1918 around the time of the Spanish Flu epidemic, it invites comparison with the recent Covid lockdown and how we all felt in isolation at home with our nearest and dearest.
In Strindberg’s play we are on an island. Edgar is the superintendent of the battery and lives just a short walk from his garrison. His wife of twenty‑five years is Alice, and the isolation of the epidemic reinforces the isolation she has felt all her married life. They bicker and snipe at each other; without money or the unseen, absent servants, they seem to fill their day with verbal battles and gameplay. When Kurt arrives wearing a face mask — who they have not seen for fifteen years — reporting to the local doctor to oversee the island quarantine, their relationship is further tested and exposed. Eyre’s script is littered with wonderful, piercing put‑downs and slurs that elicit plenty of laughs while hammering home the toxic relationship that seems to keep them together.
Lisa Dillon is electric as Alice: a passionate, powerful and playful protagonist pushing Edgar — an equally compelling performance from Will Keen — to his limit and then seducing Geoffrey Streatfield’s reluctant, uncertain Kurt into a throuple. She is ten years younger than her husband and gave up her career as an actress to marry him, but fears the only way they will part is through death. He wonders whether everybody has such a miserable life as theirs. Yet something keeps them together, as if the barbed comments and game playing bind them. It is clear that Edgar is unwell and descends into spasms and erratic behaviour, appearing to perform a Dance of Death. Even then, he jokes that “it is bad enough dying but worse if you can’t smoke or drink!”.
The second half explodes into twists and turns in a “will he, won’t he die?”, but how much of the claims and allegations are true, and how much are just games they play? Are Alice and Edgar as devilish as each other? When you sit this close to actors of this quality, you can’t help admiring their technique and characterisations. The atmospheric setting by Ashley Martin‑Davis, with a pale blue door in each corner and a ceiling over the action, makes us feel as if we are the walls of their room, confining the action and hanging on every word and look. If only more people could experience the sheer joy of seeing these performances of Dance of Death in this setting. You have to be a member to secure a ticket, but once again the Orange Tree has a must‑see show, which runs to 7th March and deserves to be seen by a wider audience.
Listings and ticket information can be found here.
