Hanya Yanagihara’s sprawling, relentlessly graphic door-stopper of a novel about sexual abuse and self-harm divided the room when it was published in 2015. Some called it torture porn, others hailed it a masterpiece. So it is perhaps not surprising that its West End adaptation began making lurid headlines well before opening night.
Conceived and directed by Ivo van Hove, first in Dutch and now premiering in English, there have been reports of spurting blood, fainting fits and illicit mobile phone images of a naked James Norton, who plays the central, agonised figure of Jude St Francis. That last one has sparked debate on the potential banning of phones inside auditoriums. What kind of logistical mayhem might that cause? Will theatregoers be asked to go through airport-style scanners? And all with no guarantees a phone will not be smuggled in anyway.
