Review: Grief is the Thing with Feathers at Belvoir

Review by Grace Swadling

When tragedy strikes, a phrase that becomes commonplace is ““I never thought this would happen to me.” This is because it is hard to imagine the realities of tragedy or even begin to articulate the experience of grief in its aftermath - most human beings can’t or don’t want to sit with this, because it’s too much. The universal experience of grief however is often unfortunately unavoidable and in Max Porter’s novel Grief is the Thing with Feathers, the raw, messy and brutal parts of grief are twisted, entangled and presented through prose and poetry. 

In a stunning adaptation by Simon Phillips, Nick Schlieper & Toby Schmitz, this exploration of grief is brought to life at the Belvoir in a theatrical and engaging production, where reality and imagination collide after the sudden death of the matriarch of a small family. Two young boys and their father are left behind and in the wake of their sadness and loneliness arrives the Crow - born from the words of Ted Hughes, conjured by their father and proclaiming to stay “only until they no longer need him.” 

This production is unlike anything I've seen at the Belvoir, with its poetic lyricism, non-linear narrative and abstract structure. Stylistically, it’s quite identifiable as an adaptation of a novel but if you lean into its absurdist nature, it is compelling and utterly engaging - playful yet hauntingly honest and unflinchingly raw. It allows audiences to make space for this kind of grief, to confront the truth of this kind of pain. It is simultaneously both grounded in reality yet otherworldly - transforming grief into both the mundane and the epic.

Toby Schmitz is at the centre of this production and showcases some incredible physical and vocal work. As the Dad, Schmitz embodies grief - you can see it physically ravaging his body, in his demeanor and mannerisms and his soft-spoken ruminations. This is in stark comparison to the jarring shift when he becomes The Crow, who is alive and animated; raw, rough, primal and deranged. The Crow is an ephemeral being, enmeshed in the fleshy, gruesome meat of grief. The Dad is constantly picking up socks and toys, wading through the everyday reality of life after loss, missing his wife but holding on for his children…just.

Schmitz really carried the show and his stage presence is not to be dismissed. Fraser Morrison & Philip Lynch are also beautifully cast as his sons, and their relationship towards each other, combined with the shifts between the adult versions of the boys and their young selves was deeply moving. Composer & Musician Freya Schack-Arnott provided a consistent underscoring of the emotional reality of the worlds the boys and their father inhabit after this loss, often with long mournful notes and sharp high pitch strings - macabre but beautifully so.

The technical elements of this production are fantastic - illustrations by Jon Weber and video design by Craig Wilkinson shown on LED screens at the back work to create a fairytale-like world, enhancing the make-believe, dark and gothic elements. Set design by Nick Schlieper & Simon Phillips is simple but allows for play and Schlieper's lighting also works to create a constant shifting within the four walls, grounding us in reality but also moving us through time and space as the narration flash-forwards into the past, present and future of grief and back again.

Humorous moments are thrown together alongside gut-punch lines (“He was waiting to become our father”/”I hope she likes us”). The boys and their father exist almost in different worlds but when they overlap, it is lovely to watch. Although you never see the Mother, she is a ghostly figure at the heart of this story and sound designer Daniel Herten included some beautiful touches, like her voice echoing throughout.

Whilst this production might not land for some, at its core it is a compelling and cathartic exploration of the emotional intensity within Porter's novel.  Not a single person can say they have not experienced loss in some sense. In that way, this production touches on a fundamental truth of being human; that grief is complex, that grief is chaotic and restless, that if we hold on to each other we just might persevere through and within it. It's an engaging and, most importantly, an interesting night of theatre that grapples with many themes we tend to look away from but instead urges us to confront them and look into them head-on.

Image Credit: Brett Boardman