Review: The Day of the Triffids at The New Theatre

Review by Kate Gaul

There is something wonderfully apt about bringing The Day of the Triffids to the stage in 2026. John Wyndham's 1951 novel has lost none of its potency. Its vision of environmental catastrophe, societal collapse and humanity's uneasy relationship with science feels remarkably contemporary. More than seventy years after publication, its questions about resilience and survival continue to resonate, making James Jay Moody's long-gestating adaptation feel less like a nostalgic revival than a timely reimagining.

It is also clearly a labour of love. Having worked on this adaptation over many years, director and designer James Jay Moody approaches Wyndham's world with imagination and theatrical confidence. The production embraces a "two planks and a passion" aesthetic that perfectly suits a post-apocalyptic landscape. Staged in the round at The New Theatre, the audience is drawn into the action from every side, the intimacy of the space creating an immersive experience while still allowing enough scale for the story to breathe.

Visually, the production is consistently compelling. Moody's production design finds inventive theatrical solutions rather than relying on spectacle, trusting the audience's imagination to fill the gaps. Holly Nesbitt's lighting design is exceptional, transforming the space with sophisticated precision and atmosphere, while Aubtin Namdar's sound design creates an unsettling sonic landscape. The noir-inspired score and the visceral, organic sounds of the Triffids themselves become almost characters in the production, generating genuine moments of tension and unease.

As a piece of theatre, it is an impressive achievement. As an adaptation, however, it proves less certain.

At two uninterrupted hours, the production begins to lose momentum. The adaptation is imaginative in the way it translates Wyndham's expansive novel to the stage, but it doesn't always find the dramatic engine needed to sustain its running time. The audience already knows the broad trajectory of civilisation's collapse; the script therefore needs to work harder to surprise us, deepen character, or sharpen the moral dilemmas along the way. Instead, some scenes linger beyond their dramatic usefulness, and the narrative occasionally slips into a sense of inevitability. The result is a production that is visually engrossing but dramatically less urgent than its source material deserves.

The cast, largely newcomers to The New Theatre, throw themselves into Moody's ambitious vision with admirable commitment. Performing in English accents with varying degrees of success, however, presents an ongoing challenge. In a production fuelled by urgency and chaos, there is a great deal of shouting - as the circumstances arguably demand - but in the round this often comes at the expense of clarity. Too frequently, dialogue is swallowed by the space, making it difficult to follow the text at precisely the moments when the script most needs to carry the audience forward.

Among the ensemble, Max Ryan makes a memorable impression. His crisp, public-school English diction cuts cleanly through the auditorium, and his inventive, energetic performance ensures that even a comparatively small role leaves a lasting impression.

Umai Shantharajah, as Josella, is a genuine discovery. She brings intelligence, warmth and emotional presence to the role, creating a character of real substance amid the chaos. It is easy to imagine this being the first of many significant stage appearances.

As the young Susan, Claudia Elbourne delivers a beautifully measured performance. Avoiding sentimentality, she brings quiet nuance and emotional truth to the production, grounding the story whenever she is on stage. Leading the production, James Collins possesses an assured, understated authority as Bill Masen. With an effortless leading-man quality - there is more than a hint of classic BBC drama about him - he anchors the sprawling narrative with calm conviction and humanity.

Special mention must go to Tony Llewellyn-Jones, whose considerable experience elevates every scene he inhabits. His blind farmer is deeply affecting, full of dignity and pathos, while his various appearances throughout the production are marked by precision, generosity and remarkable character detail. He has that rare ability to create fully realised lives in only a handful of moments, enriching the world of the play every time he steps on stage.

Watching The Day of the Triffids also serves as a reminder of what a remarkable asset The New Theatre is. Its scale, generous seating capacity and inner-city location make it one of Sydney's most valuable theatre venues. It is large enough to accommodate ambitious design and staging, yet intimate enough to retain the connection between performers and audience. There are very few theatres of this kind left operating in the city.

This production is, proudly, a community theatre production and an excellent one at that. It also prompts reflection on something missing from Sydney's theatre ecology. The New Theatre's decision to discontinue its Indie program several years ago quietly removed one of the few platforms where independent artists could develop work with a degree of autonomy while aspiring to professional standards. That distinction matters. Community theatre occupies a vital place in our cultural landscape, providing opportunities for people to create theatre for the love of it, and our city would be poorer without it. But independent theatre occupies a different space. It is where artists, producers and designers test ideas, take creative risks and, on occasion, receive at least a modest fee for their labour.

In truth, very few independent artists in Sydney are remunerated in any way that reflects the value of their work. Yet the aspiration towards a professional practice, however precarious, is an important part of the ecosystem. The Day of the Triffids demonstrates just how much imagination, craft and ambition can be found within Sydney's community theatre sector. It also reminds us what a versatile home The New Theatre can be. One hopes there might again be room under its roof for both outstanding community productions and a revitalised independent program. Sydney's theatre ecology would be richer for it.

James Jay Moody's production may not entirely solve the challenge of adapting Wyndham's sprawling novel, but it succeeds in something equally worthwhile. It reminds us that the best theatre is driven by conviction. In an era when the questions at the heart of The Day of the Triffids feel more urgent than ever, that conviction makes this production well worth experiencing.

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