Man to Man– Royal Court Theatre

3/5 stars

Tilda Swinton returning to the stage was always going to be a major theatrical event. But returning to the same role she first performed almost 40 years ago makes Man to Man something rather more unusual.

Swinton first played Ella/Max in the UK premiere of Manfred Karge’s Man to Man at the Traverse Theatre and subsequently the Royal Court in the late 1980s. This new production reunites her with director Stephen Unwin, designer Bunny Christie and lighting designer Ben Ormerod, all of whom worked on that original production. Karge’s German text is translated by Anthony Vivis and has been revised for this production by Unwin.

And that history is important, because I think it goes some way towards explaining what this production is.

We were fortunate that the performance we attended was followed by a Q&A with Swinton and Unwin. Listening to them discuss the production, their friendship and a creative relationship stretching back decades actually changed the way I thought about what I’d just watched.

It became clear that Man to Man isn’t simply another revival. It feels intensely personal to the people making it. 

Written by East German playwright Manfred Karge, the play follows Ella Gericke, a working-class woman in 1930s Germany who assumes the identity of her dead husband, Max, in order to survive. From there, Ella’s extraordinary life carries her through some of the darkest chapters of 20th-century German history, including Nazism, war, division and eventually the fall of the Berlin Wall. 

Swinton is the only performer, playing Ella/Max as well as conjuring the other people who move through her life.

At its heart is a fascinating idea. By becoming the man she loved, Ella survives, but that survival comes at an enormous cost. She loses something of herself in the process. She carries grief for the man she lost, for the woman she might have been and for the life she might otherwise have lived.

There is also tremendous loneliness in that existence. Ella can survive as Max, but she can never completely reveal herself to the people around her.

As an exploration of identity, sacrifice, grief and survival, there is something incredibly powerful here.

Did I always find it fascinating to watch? Unfortunately, no.

There is absolutely no questioning Swinton’s commitment to this performance.

Her physicality is extraordinary, and watching one performer fill the Royal Court stage for around 85 minutes is impressive in itself.  She shifts between characters, moods and periods of Ella’s life with remarkable confidence, and there are moments when you become acutely aware that you’re watching an actor with an enormous range at her disposal.

But some of the creative choices left me puzzled.

Perhaps the biggest was the voice. Swinton gives Ella/Max a broad London accent, despite the story being so specifically rooted in Germany. I kept waiting for that decision to click into place for me, but it never quite did.

That doesn’t necessarily mean it is the wrong choice. During the Q&A it became apparent just how thoroughly Swinton and Unwin have interrogated this text and how deliberate the details of the production are. But there’s a difference between understanding that a choice has been carefully considered and actually connecting with it as an audience member.

For me, that gap remained.

Visually, Man to Man is packed with ideas.

Bunny Christie’s design is relatively sparse, but objects, projections and physical actions accumulate meaning as Ella travels through German history. Ben Ormerod’s lighting, Elena Peña’s sound and Matt Powell’s projections all contribute to a production that often feels more like fragments of memory than a conventional narrative. 

One image I found particularly effective was the line of red tape dividing the stage, its eventual removal echoing the fall of the Berlin Wall. It’s a simple visual device, but one whose meaning is immediately clear.

Other moments were far harder for me to decipher.

At one point Swinton pours beer over herself. At another, ketchup is thrown against the wall. I’m sure these moments have significance within the production’s visual language, but sitting in the audience I couldn’t always find my way into them.

And that became my difficulty with the evening as a whole.

There were lots of individual images, actions and ideas that I could admire. But I couldn’t always connect them into a satisfying whole.

It sometimes felt like looking at an elaborate collage: you can recognise the individual pieces and appreciate the thought that’s gone into arranging them, but when you stand back, the overall picture doesn’t necessarily become any clearer.

This is where the conversation afterwards became unexpectedly important.

Listening to Swinton and Unwin talk about Man to Man, you could sense their affection for the material and for the production they first created together decades ago. This isn’t a case of dusting off an old show and simply recreating it. The text and staging have been revisited and reconsidered for a different world and for artists who are themselves almost four decades older. The current version has been revised by Unwin, and the production is due to continue to Edinburgh, Berlin and New York. 

It made me reconsider something.

Perhaps my problem was that I was looking for Man to Man to communicate everything directly to me, whereas much of what I was watching had emerged from an extraordinarily long and personal creative conversation between these artists.

I wouldn’t go so far as to say the production isn’t for its audience — ultimately, theatre has to communicate with the people sitting in front of it. But this particular production does feel like a passion project: an opportunity for Swinton and Unwin to return to something that clearly means an enormous amount to both of them and ask what it means to them now.

Seen from that perspective, I found it rather moving.

It didn’t suddenly make all the moments I had struggled with work. But it made me appreciate why the production exists.

Man to Man left me in the unusual position of admiring a production considerably more than I actually enjoyed it.

Manfred Karge’s central idea remains powerful. Bunny Christie’s design contains some striking imagery, Stephen Unwin’s production is clearly extraordinarily considered, and Tilda Swinton gives a fearless and completely committed performance.

But I also found it fragmented, occasionally baffling and, despite the fascinating life at its centre, not consistently engaging.

And that’s okay.

The Q&A reminded me that you don’t necessarily have to love a piece of theatre to find something worthwhile in experiencing it. I left with considerably more appreciation for what Swinton, Unwin and their collaborators were attempting than I’d had when the applause initially began.

Nearly four decades after they first explored Ella’s story together, they’ve returned to it as very different people in a very different world.

I’m glad I saw it.

I’m glad I heard them explain what it means to them.

But ultimately, I admired it more than I connected with it.

★★★☆☆ – 3/5

♿  Accessibility at The Royal Court Theatre

The Royal Court Theatre is located just off Sloane Square in Chelsea. The accessible entrance is separate from the main entrance, situated to the side of the building, but it’s clearly signposted and easy to find.

Once inside, there’s a lift providing access to the relevant levels. The main Jerwood Theatre Downstairs is, as the name suggests, downstairs, while the smaller Jerwood Theatre Upstairs is on an upper level. There are accessible toilets within the building, as well as a bar which is normally reached using a platform lift. Unfortunately, the platform lift wasn’t working when we visited, so I wasn't able to access the bar (don't worry I sent Diarmuid!). There is, however, a small waiting area outside the auditorium where we could comfortably wait for the theatre doors to open.

When I originally booked these tickets, I wasn’t particularly familiar with the Royal Court’s booking system. They were also booked quite some time ago, alongside Gary Oldman’s show. With both productions being incredibly sought-after, I simply grabbed what I could and booked an end-of-row transfer seat.

As it turned out, that worked brilliantly for me.

The seats at the Royal Court are surprisingly comfortable, which isn’t something you can take for granted in a London theatre! The armrests lift up, making transferring from a wheelchair relatively straightforward, and my wheelchair could then be stored safely in the cloakroom during the performance.

I’ve also found the productions we’ve seen here tend to have relatively manageable running times, so combining a shorter show with a genuinely comfortable seat makes transferring a much more practical option for me.

At the end of the performance, I personally find it easier to remain in my seat while the majority of the audience leaves. The space around the auditorium can become quite tight when everyone is exiting at once, so waiting a few minutes until it has cleared gives me much more room to transfer back into my wheelchair and leave comfortably.

There wasn’t a dedicated access host during our visit, but in this particular theatre I didn’t feel that I needed one. The Royal Court is relatively compact and straightforward to navigate, and the staff we encountered were incredibly helpful whenever we needed anything.

My only real disappointment on this visit was the platform lift to the bar being out of action. Otherwise, I’ve found the Royal Court a very manageable theatre to visit as a wheelchair user.

If you’re planning a visit and have specific access requirements, I would recommend contacting the theatre beforehand to discuss the different wheelchair and transfer options available. Everyone’s requirements are different, and what works brilliantly for me won’t necessarily work for another wheelchair user.

And if, like me, you can transfer comfortably, don’t immediately discount the transfer seats — those Royal Court seats are considerably more comfortable than I was expecting!