Eric Roth is no stranger to storytelling. The Academy Award-winning screenwriter behind Forrest Gump, The Insider, and Dune makes his stage debut with High Noon, adapted from Carl Foreman’s Oscar-winning screenplay for the 1952 classic.
Directed by Thea Sharrock and starring Billy Crudup and Denise Gough, this world premiere at the Harold Pinter Theatre promised a tense, real-time thriller. Sadly, it misses the target like a gunslinger shooting blind.
The original film is celebrated for its taut pacing and moral ambiguity: Marshal Will Kane faces the return of outlaw Frank Miller on the noon train, as the clock ticks down. On stage, that ticking clock barely registers. The train is supposedly due at midday, yet the characters manage a wedding, a departure, a return, and sprawling duologues all over town before the morning is even out. Any sense of urgency evaporates long before the first whistle blows, and when those whistles finally come, they’re spaced so far apart you might miss them entirely.
Roth’s script is heavy on exposition and light on subtext. Everything is spelled out for the audience, leaving no room for interpretation. There’s even a line about “a lot of talking without actually saying anything”, which feels unintentionally self-referential. Attempts to inject contemporary relevance through political asides and fourth-wall breaks only underline the problem: this is a play that doesn’t trust its audience to think for themselves.
Visually, the production fares no better. The set, a series of wooden slats, morphs into every building in town but never conjures the grit of a saloon, the faded grandeur of a hotel, or the sanctity of a church. It’s all just beige.
The music, at least, offers a welcome reprieve from the expected guitar twangs, opting for something more modern and atmospheric. Unfortunately, characters start singing for no discernible reason, which jars with the otherwise sombre tone.
The cast do their best with what they’re given. Crudup and Gough bring gravitas, Billy Howle and Rosa Salazar add texture, and the ensemble work hard despite awkward doubling of roles. Yet even these seasoned performers look uncomfortable at times, particularly during spontaneous bouts of line dancing that feel like a desperate attempt to inject energy.
Ultimately, High Noon strips away everything that makes a Western, a Western. No horseback chases, no tense silences, barely any quick draws, instead, just a paint-by-numbers plot that tells rather than shows. Westerns remain one of cinema’s most beloved genres, so you have to wonder why this stage version misses the mark so badly. If you fancy this because you’re a fan of the film, it might be time to saddle up and ride off into the sunset, preferably toward something better.
Listings and ticket information can be found here
