Death of England: Delroy, @sohoplace, September 2024: Dearth of Storytelling
January 2026
How does one define Britain in the 21st century? Who are the English, and what do they represent? After Brexit and fourteen years of Tory rule, Britain seems to be a nation without identity — struggling to find its place in a world that bears little resemblance to her past glory days. A nation, an idea, a concept, a mirage built on centuries of colonialism, plunder, and blood. It seems the imperial chickens have come home to roost. Yet Britain clings to a semblance of greatness, subconsciously knowing it will never be repeated, cherishing the echoes of former glory through nostalgia.
Clint Dyer and Roy Williams are credited as co-writers of Death of England: Delroy, one-third of their trilogy of interconnected works, which began at the National Theatre in 2020. All three plays have recently been performed @sohoplace.
I haven’t seen the other two plays, Closing Time and Michael, but this doesn’t pose a problem when watching Delroy as each play is designed to stand alone, focusing on a character (or characters) who is present but unseen in the others. Two of the three plays feature a single performer, while one involves two actors, allowing the audience to experience some of the same events from different perspectives. Dyer and Williams aim to make Death of England a state-of-the-nation piece — an ambitious and exciting objective.
A rapid-fire opening sequence of short snippets, introduces us to Delroy and his world as a young Black man in London (Essiedu may be slightly too old for the role; this impression stems primarily from the text but also from the stark contrast between his natural gravitas and Delroy’s naivety). Delroy has a job, a mortgage, a spirited Jamaican mother, and a white girlfriend. From there, the story follows a predictable path; you can see where it’s headed long before it arrives, even as Williams and Dyer attempt to build suspense and inject mystery. The fundamental problem with Death of England: Delroy, despite Paapa Essiedu’s outstanding performance, is that it has a single thematic idea, which is repeated throughout without deepening the theme, advancing the narrative, or offering fresh insights. The play is riddled with clichés; it seems the heft of writing such an ambitious piece has dulled the writers’ creativity, as they constantly strive for depth but deliver the mundane. The result is that Delroy ends up in an artistic cul-de-sac.
Dyer’s direction is busy and heavy-handed; Essiedu probably gets his ten thousand steps per day in at each performance as he repeatedly traverses the vast playing area, which consists of enormous runways forming a giant Saint George’s Cross. All three plays in the trilogy use the same set, co-designed by Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey and Ultz. The set perfectly exemplifies Dyer’s tendency to lay it on thick, signalling the play’s theme with all the subtlety of a third-rate panto. Not even Essiedu’s immense charm can disguise the fact that the writers don’t actually have much to say about the state of England in the 21st century, apart from highlighting that it is a systemically racist nation. Yes, and? Delroy feels like a slight work, more of an outline than a fully realised idea, which is surprising given the amount of time the writers have spent creating the project, along the opportunity to revisit it in different venues years apart. With the creative distance they were afforded between productions, one would have hoped they might have used this time to gain a clearer vision for this latest staging. The production screams “important subject matter,” and “worthiness,” but the actual material lacks profundity and originality — qualities needed to elevate it to its ambitious aims.
Many of the new plays I have seen recently share a common flaw — they’re not really plays. In each case, a singular idea has been padded out and packaged as a full-length play. I am not sure what is going on with playwriting in the UK at the moment, but it is leaving me cold. The works feel underdeveloped, and lacking proper dramaturgical support. These writers aren’t experimenting with form or pushing the medium forward; they seem unsure how to construct or tell a compelling story. Williams is an accomplished writer and knows his craft, but much of Death of England: Delroy feels off — confusingly so. Perhaps the creative collaboration with Dyer as co-writer has dulled his instincts.
Fortunately for Death of England: Delroy, it has Paapa Essiedu. I have seen him on stage twice recently, and each time I have come away marvelling at how effortlessly brilliant he is. He has star quality, backed by a genuine talent, and a smile that could sway a nation. He makes almost everything he does look easy and natural. The only part of this performance that didn’t quite work is when he is required to play characters other than Delroy. In these moments, you can sense hints of strain and discomfort, but thankfully, they are brief and few. I look forward to seeing him in material truly worthy of his talent.
Dyer has Essiedu wearing a mic, and I am unsure whether this is a creative choice or a practical necessity. Amplification in straight plays is another trend I’ve noticed recently. Has actor training in the UK declined to the point where graduates are leaving drama school without knowing how to project their voices? Or is this embrace of amplification an attempt to replicate the intimacy of TV and film? It seems many UK theatre-makers have a lack of faith in the medium, as though they are aspiring TV directors, slumming it in the theatre until Netflix comes calling.
The history of amplification in theatre began in 1946 with the original production of Annie Get Your Gun, which starred Broadway legend Ethel Merman. Ethel was appalled when she became aware that some of her co-stars would be mic’d for the production. She believed that, if you needed amplification to be heard, you didn’t belong on a Broadway stage.
Jamie Lloyd has used amplification in his recent work with clear intent. In the two productions of his I have seen recently, the amplification felt like an essential ingredient to his overall concept, deliberately crafted for the theatre. Lloyd’s use of technology feels distinctly theatrical — enhancing the experience rather than undermining it.
Part of theatre’s unique power lies in the lack of technical barrier between actor and audience; what is seen and heard is unmediated by technology. When amplification is used without creative intent, it risks diluting the experience, muting the raw connection that makes theatre so compelling.
Death of England: Delroy is the second production I have seen directed by Clint Dyer. The overriding impression I have from both is that his work would greatly improve if he were able to collaborate more effectively with his creative team. Dyer’s work feels disjointed, as if the designers and the director were not on the same page and it lacks the cohesion and detail necessary to fully realise the production’s potential.
@sohoplace is the first purpose-built theatre in the West End in fifty years. Aside from its questionable name, which sounds like something a Boomer trying to sound hip would come up with, I have concerns with the building itself. Despite being twelve years in the making, it feels as though it was designed by someone who had never set foot in a theatre. I had a similar reaction when visiting New York’s beautiful Perelman Performing Arts Center (PAC); both of these newly constructed venues share the same flaw — a poor guest experience.
@sohoplace resembles an upscale drama school, both inside and out. The final product feels as though no effort was made to create something aesthetically pleasing or interesting. It is staggering that this design was approved not only by its owner and visionary, Nica Burns, but also by Camden Council. In addition to its unattractive exterior, the interior also misses the mark. There is only one entrance/exit, meaning that after performances, the entire audience — the auditorium has a capacity of six hundred and two — is funnelled through a single staircase, which is far from ideal, making the process slow and frustrating. The cramped corridor and low-ceilings heighten the feeling of being trapped as you wait to leave. Glass walls offer views of the garish construction adjacent to the main entrance of the new Tottenham Court Road tube station — a far cry from the over-the-top spectacle of Times Square.
My primary issue with PAC is that to access the theatres, you have to take a lift, and to access the lifts, you have to queue. This is a maddening system, which gives the impression that the performance spaces are an afterthought, tacked onto the bar and restaurant on the ground floor. The performance I saw in the main theatre, named after businessman John Zuccotti, left me with the impression that audience comfort is low on the list of priorities for purpose-built theatres.
@sohoplace may have been twelve years in the making, but the result feels uninspired and impractical. While PAC has its flaws, it at least benefits from a stunning architectural design by the renowned architect Joshua Ramus of REX. PAC is by far the more ambitious project, with three theatres that can be combined and transformed into more than sixty configurations, including a single space that seats twelve hundred.
PAC presents dance, theatre, opera, film, and media. The Perelman Performing Arts Center opened in September 2023 as part of the World Trade Center site rebuilding project, costing five hundred and sixty million dollars. Its exterior shifts from a translucent stone hue in the day to a luminous amber at night, perfectly harmonising with its surroundings while proudly carrying its own artistic aspirations.
In fifty years, it is difficult to imagine @sohoplace being seen as anything other than an eyesore, while PAC could well be considered a masterpiece.
The @sohoplace auditorium is pleasant and arguably the most successful element of the project, with its spacious, oval-shaped, adaptable design. While the seats aren’t particularly comfortable, the rows in the stalls are well spaced. The auditorium has a high ceiling, and I assume superb technical capabilities. I can’t speak to the quality of the acoustics based on this performance, as the only unamplified voice I heard was that of an audience member giving Delroy a lengthy and mouthy piece of advice — were they a plant? This audience interaction highlights the pantomime-like qualities of Dyer’s staging. However, these moments, which he encourages throughout, lack any dramatic payoff or clear purpose. They feel forced and ill-judged, even with Essiedu doing his best to make them work.
Both @sohoplace and PAC dedicate significant space to hospitality, which likely makes financial sense. PAC went big by recruiting celebrated chef/restaurateur Marcus Samuelsson to open, Metropolis, its in-house restaurant. The ground floor of PAC has a buzz and is welcoming, encouraging locals to visit and enjoy, whether by eating lunch on the steps leading to the entrance, free performances on the Lobby Stage, or simply to use the Wi-Fi.
There is a genuine community spirit at PAC, which is sadly lacking from @sohoplace. The latter’s restaurant and bar is a nice, generic space, which looks as if it was designed in 1994 as a rival to All Bar One. I cannot imagine wanting to spend time there, especially with so many more inviting options nearby. The entire @sohoplace exercise feels like a missed opportunity.
The same can be said for Death of England: Delroy. The bottom line is that it borders on tedium and is indulgently too long. I am a fan of long, engaging theatre, but a play that repeats its narrow theme ad nauseam becomes exhausting. Although the stated running time is one hour and forty minutes, the performance I saw ran closer to two hours, likely due to Essiedu’s extensive ad-libbing with the audience — both the actor and his director need to display greater discipline. While his rapport with the crowd is enjoyable to watch, it adds little and reinforces the impression that the story lacks depth and substance. Delroy could be told in half its current length with greater effect.
We are meant to root for Delroy, and with Essiedu in the role, to some extent we do. However, the core issue is that Delroy is a young man who has made some poor decisions, which do not serve him well, such as his choice of partner and getting her pregnant. Our actions have consequences, as do our choices, but equally, they are shaped by what one does not do. Delroy eventually erupts, sharing the hurt of the micro and macro aggressions he has suffered throughout his life, which led him to vote for Brexit. This is an interesting idea and one I wish the writers had made central to their story, rather than leaving it as a mere excuse.
Another compelling dramatic choice could have been if Delroy’s suppressed anger towards Britain had been the motivation for the pregnancy — infiltrating the imperial bloodline with his Blackness.
There is an interesting tension between the performer and the character: we are watching a highly intelligent actor, whose brilliance is on full display, playing a role — and in a play — that are both less interesting, complex or charismatic than he is.
Death of England: Delroy does not provide a clear answer to what England is today, nor does it seem to offer a well-informed opinion. As a state-of-the-nation play, I wanted a clearer sense of what the writers think and feel about the country — its present shaped by its past. Dramatically, they might have been more successful writing a single play around the same characters. This could have opened the door to a more nuanced and complex telling.
TKR