In John Steinbeck’s classic Of Mice and Men, field workers George and Lennie move from farm to farm in Depression-era California with dreams of one day owning their own 10 acres and living off the fat of the land. Clocking in at a little longer than it would take to read the novella, Iqbal Khan’s lucidly and evocatively staged new production, like its source material, contains a reassuring if uneasy conventionality.
There’s little fat in this land: clothes are dusty, and the quenching of literal and metaphorical thirst carries danger. On Ciarán Bagnall’s set, made of the wooden slats of bunk houses and stables, this is a world of toil and rugged, masculine industry, further evoked through Elizabeth Purnell’s compositions which utilise protest and workers’ union songs.
Despite its classic status, Steinbeck’s text contains depictions of racism and misogyny that are potentially out of step with contemporary sensibilities, and also raises serious questions pertaining to the representation of disability, especially for theatrical iterations. Therefore, underneath the stolid assurance of this staging is the quiet radicalism of its casting, featuring actors with lived experience of disability. It is through this convergence of a canonical text, problems and all, and the realness of the performers, that the production becomes strikingly compelling.
The production occupies and takes its time, leaning into its pauses and its rushes. As with waiting for a crop to cultivate, duration is something that must be experienced before we can arrive at the fulfilment of a dream. As George, Tom McCall drives and sustains the drama; authoritative, wise, and tortured. But it is Wiliam Young’s Lennie who makes this endeavour tenderly theatrical. With an affecting volatility, his Lennie earns the right to be hermetic and his monologues, in particular, feel vital and alive. The marking of 10 acres on a tabletop is a small, beautiful highlight.
The rest of the ensemble are equally fine, particularly Reece Pantry as Crooks and Maddy Hill as the forever unnamed Curley’s Wife, both giving resonant performances that redress what might be shortcomings in how they were originally envisioned.
• At Birmingham Rep until 8 April
