I must be honest. When I arrived at the Gielgud Theatre and saw my seat, my expectations immediately dipped. There was no warning that one of the most important entrances in the show would be out of view. Granted, it did not affect most of the performance, and once the lights fade you barely notice the circle above. But this is not an unobstructed view. When so many London theatres warn audiences about even the smallest restricted sightline, the evening began with a slightly sour taste.
It is funny. Most of us buy tickets for the Oom Pah Pah and the Consider Yourself of it all, myself included. Yet I had never quite realised how bleak and twisted the story behind those cheerful tunes really is. In this production, it is almost impossible to ignore. At several points I found myself mentally stepping back and reassessing what I was actually watching.
This revival is brooding, moody and relentlessly unforgiving. Every morsel of Dickens feels lifted from the novel and pressed onto the stage. Visually, it is striking. Dramatically, it occasionally exposes how much Lionel Bart’s book lingers on its darker impulses.
Simon Lipkin’s Fagin is fully realised. He grounds the troublesome figure while still leaning into the character’s comic instincts. Unfortunately, there is often one joke too many. A genuine laugh tips into a groan when the next gag arrives just as the scene should be shifting somewhere darker.
Ava Brennan’s Nancy is the revelation of the evening. Nancy can easily slip into caricature before pivoting into tragedy, but Brennan gives her a fully embodied inner life. This is a woman who understands her circumstances, knows her worth and recognises that, given the chance, she might have escaped long ago.
The issue is not Brennan’s performance but the pace around her. Nancy is rarely allowed to linger. As Long As He Needs Me lands with precision and the audience almost reaches genuine devastation, only for the production to move on before the emotion has time to settle.
The wider cast perform with enormous energy, particularly in the ensemble sequences. But many supporting roles remain broad Dickensian sketches, leaving Fagin and Nancy as the only characters afforded real psychological depth.
Aaron Sidwell’s Bill Sikes lurks with chilling control, landing just on the right side of pantomime villainy without tipping fully into it. It is perhaps because of that effectiveness that sections of the audience booed his bow on the night I attended, something I have always disliked. The actors are taking their bows, not the characters.
The show looks sensational. Matthew Bourne’s choreography frequently carries the evening, particularly in the sequences involving Fagin and the boys. These moments provide some of the production’s most exhilarating images. All of this unfolds against Lez Brotherston’s grey industrial set, which would not look out of place down the road at Les Misérables.
There is rarely a still moment. The production captures the grime and claustrophobia of Dickensian London so effectively that you almost feel immersed in it. Yet as the staging accelerates toward the finale, the momentum becomes so relentless that the ending risks feeling rushed.
The cast are sensational. The young performers work tirelessly, and the joy of performing this material is clear. Ryo Appadu carries the title role with sincerity, avoiding the cloying sweetness Oliver can sometimes fall into, while Aaron MacGregor’s Artful Dodger brings a welcome spark of swagger and mischief.
When the inevitable standing ovation arrived, it felt entirely earned.
The production certainly looks like a million pounds. Whether anything on that stage justifies ticket prices reaching £225 is another matter.
Still, Oliver! remains one of the rare classic musicals that largely earns its reputation. I just hope that, after its inevitable UK tour, we allow it to rest. Some titles deserve the occasional triumphant revival. They do not need to become permanent residents of the West End.
Colin Cushion 
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