'Death of England: The Plays' review — Thomas Coombes and Paapa Essiedu deliver shattering performances

Read our reviews of Death of England: Michael, Death of England: Delroy, and Death of England: Closing Time now in performances @sohoplace to 28 September.

Clint Dyer and Roy Williams’s gripping, state-of-the-nation trilogy Death of England: The Plays has found its true home in London’s newest West End venue @sohoplace. The writing duo deserve some luck, after Covid overshadowed the run of Death of England (now renamed Death of England: Michael for the West End) at the National Theatre in March 2020 and Death of England: Delroy closed on its opening night when the UK went back into lockdown in November 2020.

Dyer and Williams’s misfortune didn’t end there, with their Delroy, Giles Terera, forced to withdraw with appendicitis and his understudy Michael Balogun stepping in, to great acclaim. The final play in the trilogy, Death of England: Closing Time, also faced complications in 2023, as Jo Martin (Delroy’s mum) fell ill before press night, leaving Sharon Duncan-Brewster just five days to become show-ready.

Staged in rep for the first time and sharing press performances on 30 July, Michael and Delroy have gone off without a hitch, with Closing Time beginning previews on 22 August. While the shows can still be seen individually, they’re dynamite in rep, the interconnected stories and different narrative perspectives offering a far richer understanding of what it means to be British when viewed together.

Book tickets to Death of England: The Plays on London Theatre.

Death of England: Michael

The first piece of the puzzle is Michael Fletcher: a white, working-class Essex lad grieving the loss of his father, a flower-stall owner who dies suddenly during the Euros 2020 (though held in 2021) final. Stepping into the shoes of Rafe Spall — who originated the role — is no easy task, but Thomas Coombes (Baby Reindeer) gives a startling performance as a confused young man, simultaneously rejecting and perpetuating his father’s legacy of prejudice.

Over the course of the 100-minute monologue, he seamlessly moves from cheeky chappy offering out Penguin bars to the audience, to a rage-filled, coke-addled son in the depths of grief, to something even more shattering: a son trying to reconcile the truth of his father’s character with his own experience, and what that means for his future.

While the death of Alan, Michael’s father, was originally set during the 2018 World Cup, Williams and Dyer have updated it to the Euros final, which adds a further nasty layer of prejudice to the scene. The squad’s Black players faced a torrent of abuse and Coombes channels this hatred into his performance as Alan, snarling and swearing as England lose on penalties, shouting racial insults to a deathly silent audience. Bananas fall from the rafters, while “Three Lions” is pumped out of the speakers.

The funeral itself is a difficult watch. Alan’s casket, raised from the stage and draped in a Union Jack flag as though he’s a fallen veteran, is the centrepiece, with Coombes running between the audience and the stage in a fit of rage and despair, shouting and spluttering as he clutches a hip flask.

When Coombes skilfully transforms again, this time into Riz, who runs the local curry house, and learns that his father was more than a Brexit-supporting bigot, the scene is crushing. A recorded message shows just how much men can struggle to articulate and share their feelings, while Coombes’s silent, manic dance, bathed in Jackie Shemesh’s atmospheric lighting, is full of anguish.

Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey and ULTZ’s simple yet impactful stage design — a giant St George's cross — shows with one glance the national and personal identity crisis that lies at the heart of these three, interconnected plays. Props symbolising people and memories surround the stage and give Coombes something to bounce off, whether that be his sister Carly represented by a toy dog or a pair of boxing gloves for his best friend Delroy.

Tackling so many of the issues to plight this country in recent years — from Boris Johnson and the racism of the Euros, to Nigel Farage and Brexit — leads to the monologue feeling slightly overstuffed, particularly when succeeded only just over an hour later by Delroy. But there is no questioning the heart behind Williams and Dyer’s compelling drama.

Book Death of England: Michael tickets on London Theatre.

Death of England: Delroy

While Coombes’s raw performance is as brave as it is bold, Paapa Essiedu’s Delroy takes Williams and Dyer’s writing one step further, entirely shattering the fourth wall between actor and audience.

His story is laser-focused on identity, and what it will take to truly belong in England when you’re a Black, working-class man. A Brexit-supporter, who works as a bailiff, Delroy is interested in looking after number one — that is, until he is racially profiled en route to the birth of his child with girlfriend Carly (Michael’s sister), which forces him to re-evaluate his perspectives and experiences.

Essiedu’s performance is incendiary. He raises his fist, in a stance long-associated with Black Power, and looks into the eyes of the audience, stating the symbol is still “ours” even though Trump is trying to claim it, leading to whoops of appreciation from the balcony. He literally rips up Greenaway-Bailey and ULTZ’s red cross stage, now covered in scrawled messages such as “race x race x race = tired.” He is an actor who makes you feel as though each show will be entirely different, occasionally toying with the audience and even asking “you saw the first play?” when he deems our response insufficient.

His push-pull relationship with Michael comes to a brilliant climax in the hospital, as Delroy veers between wanting to repair the friendship but also feeling as though Michael has never really understood him. The impressive switches in character between Michael and Delroy are whiplash fast, aided by Benjamin Grant’s stand-out sound design.

The most absorbing moment in his monologue, however, is saved for his courtroom scene. Here, @sohoplace transforms into a Roman amphitheatre and Essiedu puts his skillset as an accomplished Shakespearean actor to good use. Shemesh’s lighting design floods the audience, section by section, so it feels as though Essiedu is looking at us, just as much as we are watching him. His tear-soaked face, looking up into the audience as he defends his actions, calling out to his mum, is gut-wrenching. The ad-libbed feel to his speech contributes to the sense he is speaking from the heart, blurring the lines between actor and performer.

Arguably, the text could be tightened up. The courtroom scene, as with the funeral in Michael, is sprawling and, at times, loses its way. But Coombes and Essiedu give everything in these exhilarating performances that shine a light on a section of society that is often forgotten and overlooked.

Book Death of England: Delroy tickets on London Theatre.

Death of England: Closing Time

The final play to complete Dyer and Williams’s trilogy is Closing Time. Visually, much remains the same: Greenaway-Bailey and ULTZ’s St George’s Cross continues to dominate the space, and Grant’s punchy opening sound design signals the beginning of another Death of England play. However, there is a key difference here. Instead of a monologue led by a male voice, Dyer and Williams have written a duologue for Carly (played by Erin Doherty), Delroy’s girlfriend, and Denise (Sharon Duncan-Brewster), his mother. They are in business together, running Denise’s Caribbean takeaway and the neighbouring flower shop of Carly’s late father Alan.

It is refreshing to see and hear about the experiences of these two characters who loom so large in Michael and Delroy, particularly the latter, as Delroy debates the difficulties within his relationship with Carly. Doherty offers an eye-opening, crudely sexualised view of their relationship in Closing Time, with Delroy becoming a thrilling prize to be won. She even likens the opening stages of their courtship to the mixed-raced relationship in Noughties flick Save the Last Dance in a funny but cringe-worthy scene.

Yet, there is also something innocent and gentle about the way she describes their relationship. In a lovely parallel, the same disco ball that rises from the stage in Delroy when he discusses their first kiss makes an appearance here as well — another small example of why the plays are best enjoyed together.

Knowledge of the other plays feels more important in Closing Time because much of Carly and Denise’s relationship is focused on the men in their lives, a sad yet common reduction for women. This is particularly true of the way they spar over Delroy, both protective and jealous but also infuriated by him. They bicker, rant, and rave at each other, with a familiarity only felt within families. Some of their lines are lost amid the shouting which, at times, feels relentless.

Both actors deliver powerful performances, with Duncan-Brewster bringing emotional heft to the part of Denise as she agonises over the loss of her business and family pride. Doherty’s motormouth Carly is a contradictory mess of opinions: she is a product of her racist father, but also strives to prove her love to Delroy and his family. Doherty captures this conflict perfectly during a live-streamed social media apology for her prejudiced behaviour, swinging between shame and guilt while also antagonising her online audience.

While some of the play’s references have already dated since its first outing in October 2023 — “Liz Truss lasted longer than us” being one of them — this incisive exploration of the damaging consequences of social media feels as pertinent now as it did then. There is much to chew over in this third instalment of Death of England, despite its dependence on the two plays that come before it.

Book Death of England: Closing Time tickets on London Theatre.

Photo credit: Thomas Coombes in Michael, Paapa Essiedu in Delroy. (Photos by Helen Murray)