The Normal Heart at National Theate

Friday night's show was about 80% full in the stalls and 50% in the circle. Around half were masked.

At the end about 60% of the audience in the stalls stood to applaud. I think this will split audiences between those who love it and those underwhelmed. Sadly, I was in the latter, and, judging by comments overheard, I was not alone.

I was active on the gay scene during the period in question; I lost a few friends to Aids; I had a partner who was one of the first diagnosed who miraculously survives to this day, but we suffered from the expectation it would probably not work out so well. The Normal Heart should have spoken to me. It should have made me feel angry at the way people were treated, yet moved by the human suffering and lives cut short.

So why did it leave me completely cold?

Firstly, I couldn't hear any characters speaking their words; all I heard was the playwright putting his own thoughts in their mouths. Speeches describing events that really did take place would have worked better as monologues to the audience, but when delivered by one character to another, they were unconvincing dialogue. None of these people seemed real to me. I didn't recognise them.

Secondly, the play is essentially nearly three hours of internal in-fighting between one man and the rest of the group he belongs to. While the playwright has no doubt distilled several real-life activists (including himself) into his lead character, I didn't find the portrayal believable. It felt rather two-dimensional. It lacked any heart. To be clear, I'm blaming the writer; Ben Daniels makes the best of it.

The arguments evinced by the protagonists are too polarised. In particular, the case put forward by the gay characters urging a cautious approach painted them as uncaring collaborators, when the truth was surely more nuanced.

There's also little economy of writing. A better dramatist could have lost an hour but told the same story packing greater emotional punch.

I didn't care much for some of the directorial choices, such as the remembrance flame that burned throughout, or having characters announce the time and location of each scene; and, as a fan of intimate in-the-round theatre, I didn't see how anything was gained from that format in the huge Olivier auditorium.

I expected themes of this play to resonate in our current era of right-wing populist governments and pandemic, but I found nothing. It was simply a horror story of something bad that once happened, and which it's right not to forget. But Angels in America and tv's It's a Sin did this so much better.

Perhaps my expectations were too high, but I came away disappointed by this revival. Three stars.

Act 1: 19:19-20:25
Act 2: 20:49-22:09