The National Theatre’s revival of Terence Rattigan’s Man and Boy returns a rarely staged piece to the spotlight with fresh theatrical energy. Directed by Anthony Lau, this production strips away comfortable period trappings and instead plants Rattigan’s moral drama in a staging that feels immediate and, at moments, unsettlingly contemporary. The central performance by Ben Daniels anchors the evening, offering a study of manipulation and charisma that commands attention.
Set in a New York basement during the financial turmoil of the 1930s, the play examines how ambition and cruelty can coexist within intimate relationships and public transactions. The production’s creative team reshapes the original material with a compact, propulsive rhythm that keeps the audience alert to both the plot mechanics and the ethical questions that percolate underneath.
Performance and characters
At the centre is Gregor Antonescu, the unscrupulous financier portrayed by Ben Daniels. Daniels builds a character who is equal parts magnetism and menace: his stagecraft turns lines of business scheming into scenes of personal domination. Opposite him, Laurie Kynaston’s Basil registers as a mixture of reverence and wounded loyalty, a figure who oscillates between dependency and quiet resistance. The interplay between father and son is the engine of the drama, and both actors extract the full emotional charge from that dynamic.
The supporting ensemble adds texture and pressure to the central conflict. Isabella Laughland plays the Countess Antonescu with brittle dignity, while Phoebe Campbell and Nick Fletcher respectively inhabit roles that reveal how influence radiates through relationships and institutions. Malcolm Sinclair and Leo Wan portray business associates whose choices illuminate the play’s exploration of ethical collapse and the cost of complicity.
Staging, design and directorial approach
Anthony Lau’s direction resists naturalistic nostalgia and opts instead for a staged world that feels taut and theatrical. The design, with its spare furniture and a green floor that functions almost like a boardroom or arena, foregrounds the play’s power politics. Lighting and sound amplify the sense of a late-night, high-stakes game where fortunes and reputations can shift in a single transaction. Movement and physicality — carefully choreographed — turn conversations into confrontations.
Notably, the production uses visual cues such as an illuminated cast board and period-inflected but intentionally anachronistic props to blur strict historicism. That choice reframes Rattigan’s 1963 text as a fable about elite behaviour rather than a dusty period piece, inviting audiences to draw parallels with contemporary figures of influence and headlines about financial misconduct.
Tone and emotional impact
The tone of the revival sits between moral thriller and family tragedy. Moments of sharp humour puncture the tension, yet the play’s darker revelations accumulate until the emotional ledger is heavy. The production deliberately makes audiences uncomfortable: the same on-stage intelligence that impresses also reveals manipulative cruelty. This duality is central to the play’s power — to admire and recoil at the same person is the wrenching effect Rattigan’s story can produce when staged with conviction.
Why this revival matters
Rattigan’s reputation suffered when new dramatic voices displaced his style, and Man and Boy has remained on the edge of repertoire. This revival argues for its relevance by stripping the play down to its ethical core: questions of power, loyalty and the corrosive effects of unchecked control. The production demonstrates how a mid-century play can be reinterpreted to speak to modern anxieties about the intersection of wealth, politics and personal life.
Ultimately, the evening is memorable because of a central performance that refuses to be polite. Daniels’ Antonescu is magnetic and repellent in equal measure; the ensemble supports him with performances that contrast tenderness with calculation. While the material is not always easy to watch, the staging is consistently compelling and thought-provoking.
For audiences interested in theatre that interrogates the ethics of influence and the damage wrought by charismatic authority, this National Theatre revival of Man and Boy is a compelling proposition. It reframes a neglected Rattigan play as a timely meditation on the costs of power, anchored by a performance that is likely to linger well after the curtain falls.