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The Winter's Tale

 
Rebecca Vines Review by Rebecca Vines 3 Published: 28 Jul 2025 Royal Shakespeare Company Show Dates: 28 Jul 2025-30 Aug 2025

Yaël Farber’s hotly anticipated take on Shakespeare’s late problem play is a beautiful, haunting piece that leaves one feeling as if we have woken from a dream-like state: slumbering whilst these visions have appeared before us.

A visually exquisite rendition of a play which is hard to love

Central to the plot is Leontes, King of Sicilia – a twitchy, neurotic Bertie Carvel – whose inexplicable jealousy sets in motion a chain of tragic events which decimate his own family and ripple through his court.

His is a stark, monochromatic world: Soutra Gilmour’s design choices and Tim Lutkin’s lighting conjure the bleak aesthetic in which the key themes of jealousy and loss thrive. Meandering around the perimeter is the all-seeing figure of Time, a chilling Trevor Fox, whose presence in the play Farber has chopped up and sprinkled liberally throughout — the most memorable and satisfying innovation of the evening.

Whilst Leontes’ accusations are perhaps rather too speedily arrived at for complete credibility, we are reminded of a similarly hirsute and hasty monarch, whose crimes against his many wives were still within living memory at the time of writing. That women in too many cultures remain at the mercy of masculine whim in the present day reminds us that Shakespeare is not of an age, but indeed for all time.

Bearing the whips and scorns of her husband is Hermione – a majestic and emotionally commanding Madeleine Appiah – whose goodness and mercy pass all understanding. It’s quite the tough gig in 2025 to forgive the man who stole your reputation, sixteen years of your life, your relationship with your baby daughter, and snatched away the last breath of your young son… but Appiah goes some way to suggesting why and how this might be possible. She is ably supported by a powerhouse performance from Aïcha Kossoko as Paulina, whose appearances on stage enliven and energise an interpretation that can occasionally become so poetically monotonous that its very lifeblood is threatened by the weight of the hopelessness it has so successfully created.

There is much to be applauded: some excellent work from the underused Raphael Sowole as Camillo, and a compelling Hilda Cronje as one of Hermione’s women, helping to texturise the psychological repercussions of this man-baby’s temper tantrum.

But there are also some missteps, as exemplified by the visually stunning but dramatically dubious interpretative dance, and the shoehorning in of contemporary swear words — both seeming too painfully keen to bring edge to a piece that is not just strong enough without, but infinitely stronger without such GCSE distractions.

And when you are already gifted with the most notorious stage direction in literature, there seems little need for inessential faffage: yet poor old Antigonus is denied his inglorious death in a lost opportunity of style over substance.

Look, if there were to be an Olivier Award for most unfairly weighted dramatic moment to pull off originally yet effectively, “Exit, pursued by a bear” would be right up there for nomination with “Stella!” and “A handbag?” So any attempt is doomed to fail at least some of the people some of the time… and Farber’s take is nothing if not inventive. The lighting and sound here provide a dazzling and most welcome pop of energy, but unfortunately, relying on a silhouetted bear head to do the heavy lifting sows rather more doubt than engagement.

Why is it Hermione wearing the bear head? And why does she act as the entity that wants the man — who is going to enormous lengths to save her baby — dead? Why is she so far from home whilst so physically fragile? Why — if she knows of her daughter’s rescue and journey to Bohemia — is she so amazed to see her sixteen years later? What — if it is an allegory rather than a physical representation — does it symbolise? Wandering into the interval narratively puzzled keeps one guessing, involved and hungry for more; but being dramatically puzzled is another beast entirely.

The second half shifts to a warmer, looser Bohemia: characterised by reds and oranges, the enormous moon-like orb of the first half becoming a glowing sun. But it is nevertheless a land trapped by its own singularity: as wild and louche as Sicilia is uptight and repressed. As the two worlds speed towards their conciliation, secrets are shared and old grievances washed away with breathtaking ease. All is well in Sicilia and Bohemia: the collateral damage of Leontes’ hissy fit forgotten, bereaved marriages brushed aside, lost childhoods laughingly dismissed.

This is a visually exquisite rendition of a play which is hard to love, and even harder to understand from our lofty twenty-first-century perspective. It is not perfect, but elegantly rendered — and an especial treat for those already familiar with the text to dissect and wonder over.

Amir Nisi

Rebecca Vines

Rebecca is an acclaimed practitioner and lecturer with a renowned global practice; and is the current Drama Chairman for the board of the British and International Federation of Festivals. Rebecca began her writing career as a diarist at The Guardian newspaper, and has been reviewing theatre since 2000. Rebecca trained as a performer with the Actors Company, and has written, directed and produced critically acclaimed and sell-out shows at the Edinburgh Fringe since 2003.

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The Blurb:

Wild worlds, fractured loves, and second chances. When a king’s obsessive jealousy leads to a devastating series of acts, the journey toward healing must begin, led by time, truth, and the hope of forgiveness. From the shadowy dystopia of Sicilia to the untamed beauty of Bohemia, immerse yourself in Shakespeare’s most mysterious play. Directed by Yaël Farber (King Lear, Olivier-nominated Macbeth for the Almeida), and featuring double Olivier and Tony Award-winner Bertie Carvel.
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