Lennie James and Paapa Essiedu in A Number
(Picture: Manuel Harlan)Paapa Essiedu gives a tour de force performance – well, three to be exact – in Caryl Churchill’s short, sharp exploration of nature versus nurture, and the relationship between fathers and sons. The star of I May Destroy You here plays a young man who discovers he’s a clone, the furious ‘original’ whose DNA was sampled, and one of a number of previously unsuspected ‘illegal copies’.
He’s subtly, devastatingly different in speech, stance and attitude as each character comes to comprehend the actions of the shifty, older Salter, played by The Walking Dead’s Lennie James - his first major UK stage role in almost two decades. Two international renowned screen actors, back in their original live element, in an invitingly thoughtful work that barely lasts an hour. What’s not to like?
A Number won the 2002 Evening Standard Best Play Award, six years after the world’s first mammal, a sheep called Dolly, was created. The play represents the sweet spot where Churchill’s writing was simultaneously poetic, wise, accessible and spare. In fragmented, everyday London speech the characters struggle with the impact that science has had on their sense of self. What does it mean to find you’re not unique? Can a father who failed with one son request a do-over with a facsimile?
Lyndsey Turner’s production contains some harsh laughs and exerts a chilly and slowly closing grip, helped by Es Devlin’s boxed-in set - an ordinary, airy flat given an angry red wash. At first Salter is defensive, looking for compensation for the extended brood he’s suddenly discovered (quite how the extra clones came into being is not properly explained).
Soon, his own moral failings start to show, as well as the tenuous grip we all have on identity. At one point Salter fears he may only be able to tell his genetic progeny apart by their attitude to dogs. Naturally, more dramatic, sometimes violent differences emerge.
One moment in particular stands out. Playing Salter’s naturally conceived son, Essiedu starts off as a coiled mass of resentment. Hearing his abusive childhood and abandonment recapped, he becomes totally still, but his face is a harrowing study of growing pain. It’s a terrific piece of acting, enabled by James’s unstinting portrayal of Salter’s weakness. Bravo.
A slight quibble. This revival has landed just two years after the last one, starring Roger Allam and Colin Morgan, at the Bridge Theatre further along the river. I can understand the urge to revive a play that offers plum roles for Essiedu and James (who is most heartily welcome home by the way). But it feels like London’s theatres, knocked sideways by the pandemic, are heedlessly scheduling similar productions against each other and splitting audiences. And there’s plenty besides A Number in Churchill’s 60-year back catalogue. Her verse satire on the City, Serious Money, is surely due a revival, for one.
