The London Theatre Review: Donmar Warehouse’s Next to Normal

By Ross

Without a doubt, this is one of the most emotionally powerful musicals out there, and one that my fellow theatre junkie and I were so excited to see. So excited, that we bought standing-room-only tickets for London’s Donmar Warehouse production on the second last day of its limited run. It is a must-see, mainly because it’s one of those shows that overpowers, fully requiring a strong central presence and an intense guttural rawness in its leading lady. Alice Ripley was easily that woman back in 2009 (with a young Aaron Tveit messing with her mind, and in a way, pushing us all into their intense competition for attention) when Next to Normal first played those iconic notes on Broadway. That year, it won the Pulitzer and was nominated for eleven Tony Awards and won three, including a Tony for Ripley’s portrayal of the bipolar wife and mother, Diana, struggling to cope with tragedy, trauma, and familial life. So when this London Theatre Trip of 2023 was booked, we knew that this had to be on our (over-packed) schedule. But sadly, when we first checked the Donmar site, we devastatingly found out that it was completely sold out.

But out of nowhere, one early morning as I lay in my Toronto bed reading my emails, I got one from Donmar announcing that standing-room-only tickets were going on sale that very day. I couldn’t believe my eyes, and without checking in with my travel buddy, I bought two for our first night in town. I mean, they were only ten pounds, yet I knew that we would happily stand for the two-and-a-half-hour show, even after being in London for less than twenty-four hours. And no complaints would be made about it. Not before. Not during, and definitely not after.

I was completely thrilled. To be able to, once again, take in and swallow that masterful Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey’s musical Next to Normal was a dream come true. It’s the biggest of theatrical treats, and with the wisely cast Caissie Levy (RTC’s Caroline, or Change) in the lead, I just couldn’t wait. And although I didn’t know what Levy would bring to this emotional and vocally taxing role, I was aching to connect to that deep vibration once again.

Half of the Next to Normal connection is in the surprise, and even though both of us were not new to the musical, the sublime intricate lyrics of Brian Yorkey (Broadway’s If/Then) holding his cards tight and playing them with determination and glee still did the deed in abundance, driving us into the dread with a harrowing intensity. It’s exhilarating. From those first magical chords created by Tom Kitt (Public’s The Visitor) that roll out hauntingly from music supervisor Nigel Lilley (NT’s Follies), the emotional cues are all in place to take us on this suburban journey drenched in tragedy, grief, depression and mania. The powerful rock musical digs deep, particularly with the director Michael Longhurst (Donmar’s Belleville; Chichester/RT’s Caroline, or Change) majestically at the helm, into the complexities of mental illness and drug abuse, along with numerous other heavy and complicated interactions and scenarios.

Lucky for us, they wisely brought Levy in to lead the way through this hard multi-layered construct of family dynamics troubled by hallucinations and past trauma. As mother and wife Diana, her maternal caregiving is playful, girlish, and engaging, but it is in her rawness and disregard that is so deliciously complex and compelling, an energy that purposefully elevates her to the highest of levels. It turns out that Levy has absolutely everything that this role requires: heart, grace, humor, grit, and a voice that can shred your senses with its determined power and emotional edge. She brings an earth-bound muscularity to the part that reverberates with every rotation, making me forget (or should I say, set aside) Ripley’s magnificent performance. Her skill and unwavering passion transfixes, playing a subtle range that plays havoc with our senses, and pulls us in without question. Costumed with sharpness by designer Chloe Lamford (NT’s Amadeus) – who also designed the transforming set, Levy holds us tight in her clenched fist, as she spirals up and around the missed mountain with force and ease. Her Diana captivates in a way that is grounded, yet genius-ly “flat fuckin’ crazy,” teasing and playing with her mania, rising and falling hard when the craziness becomes too real and apparent for even her to take in and rationalize.

Backed solidly by husband Dan, embodied by the engaging Jamie Parker (Broadway’s Harry Potter…), the fractured family struggles on, isolated from one another, trying to ignore, numb, and help as best as they can, when they are able. Parker’s subtle strength shines achingly well in “He’s Not Here” and “Who’s Crazy“. He’s “holding on” with everything he has, and he “won’t let go” until the beautifully engaging “I Am the One” reprise. His voice, like Levy’s is grounded in something quite different than the Broadway production I saw so many years ago, yet it is filled, uniquely, with heartbreaking love and longing for the young woman he married years ago. It lives in its own universe, while his wife deliriously and avoidantly dances a different dance with her Doctor, a beautifully voiced but somewhat out-of-his element Trevor Dion Nicholas (West End’s Hamilton) to the brilliantly crafted “My Psychopharmacologist and I“. Nicholas has a voice that doesn’t quite match-up with the others. Not quite the Rockstar I envisioned, but something more Broadway than anyone else in this intimate production. It sticks out in a way that is somewhat distracting, even when sounding so rich and powerful.

Standing high above, never wanting to give up on his mother Diana, is the persistent and powerfully articulated son Gabe, very strongly and passionately played by Jack Wolfe (RSC’s Magician’s Elephant). He envelopes Diana in the most compassionate of ways, carrying the weight of that part with a slumped-shoulder teenage boy strut; a very telling alternative to Tveit’s more golden boy stance. Wolfe engages and melts himself into the dynamic in a more wounded manner, mirrored precisely by the edginess and complexity of a sixteen year old teenage girl, daughter Natalie, magnificently voiced by the nuanced Eleanor Worthington-Cox (Apollo’s Jerusalem). Gabe leans in and enables, pulling on Diana to join him, while Natalie distracts herself with Mozart and some other scenarios that are more hazardous. She has a destructive striving for perfection in her school’s performance that pushes all away and eventually implodes inward on itself. Both want their mother’s maddening attention, even when it hurts and disappoints, and in the hands of these two exceptionally compelling actors, they balance well with one another, harmonizing and lifting each other up with intention and focus. Even when they ignore one another on the stairs – a very well formulated family enactment in the beginning, before we know any better.

Worthington-Cox sings gorgeously, in a strongly concocted manner that really takes us into her teenage mind, particularly when she duets with the impossibly good Jack Ofrecio (Flawstate’s Boys Will Be Boys) as boyfriend Henry. Their “Perfect for You“, especially during the Act Two reprise, sneaks in quietly and squeezes out a number of surprised tears. His sheepish stoner geek enlivens the awkward angst of Worthington-Cox’s Natalie, making us cheer for his high school love to triumph even as the aftershocks make everyone stumble.

But it is in the fight for Diana’s loving gaze played out between the two men of the family, young Gabe and husband Dan, that shines most devastatingly during the hypnotic “I Am the One.” It slams and pushes all the buttons of love, grief and denial in a more subtle way than I have previously experienced, resonating through the whole piece and making me set aside everything I know about that number. The physical tugging and clinging, electrified by Levy’s pain pushes everything forward, causing me, even though I’ve seen this show numerous times, to gulp as tears came to my wide eyes. There’s no denying her pain. It fills the small Donmar Warehouse theatre, as she tells her heartbroken husband that he has no idea of the emotional torture she is trying to cope with, and the tug-of-war that surrounds her. It forges the dynamic outward, thanks to the incredible sharp hand of Longhurst’s straight-on direction. He elevates and presents the internal struggle through seduction and conflict that even a Rockstar therapist might not be able to contain.

One can’t take their eyes off of any aspect of this well structured and layered production, thanks to Lamford’s very functional always moving set, matched with strong lighting by Lee Curran (Donmar’s Constellations), a strong sound design by Tony Gayle (RSC’s My Neighbour Totoro), and a captivating video design by Tal Rosner (Old Vic’s Camp Siegfried), even for a second. The tremendously brave and dangerous roads she takes as actor and as Diana pushes and pulls at her family stings and tears at your heart. The force of “Didn’t I See This Movie?”, and the fear that sits inside her as she whispers a plea of “Catch Me I’m Falling” before she dreams with her son; these are just a few of the moments that will linger and be embedded in all of our souls after watching this magnificently constructed production. The “Light” shines strong at Donmar Warehouse with this one, and if you missed it, as we almost did, I’m sorry to say that you missed a moment more intimate and compelling than I was prepared for. 

The layering, as this show so brilliantly does, parallels a family’s need for normality, or something next to that, with the difficulty of treating and medicating the bipolar-disordered. It’s a dangerous business, psychopharmacology, one that many a desperate patient can’t survive the twists and electric turns of the head, but this Next to Normal is definitely one to be remembered, and I’ll be crossing my fingers that the show, with Levy and family in tow, will make that pond jump to Broadway, so I can have my heart ripped out and stomped on once again by the brilliance of their Next to Normal.