Last Updated on October 7, 2026
An intriguing question about the extent to which wealth and privilege can distort one’s moral compass gets off to a good start before losing its way
2.0 out of 5.0 starsIn 2013, a 16 year old American boy Ethan Couch from Texas, with only a provisional licence, killed four people and injured nine more while driving under the influence of drugs and alcohol. During the criminal trial for manslaughter his defence attorney raised a novel defence, namely that his client was suffering from “affluenza”, a portmanteau word combining affluence and influenza. Coined in the early 1900s as a portmanteau word combining affluence and influenza, it described the lack of motivation that often beset very wealthy people. But n the Couch case it was used to argue that the corrosive combination of wealth, privilege and being raised by parents who provided no rules or boundaries meant that the teenager was unable to tell the difference between right and wrong. This intriguing premise lies at the heart of Affluenza, a new play by American writer and director Andy Sandberg.
Sandler comes with quite a pedigree: he is a Yale College graduate with a long string of credits to his name as an off-Broadway, theatre director, writer, actor and producer. He also produced the London revival of Hair and has written a number of plays. For Affluenza he has assembled an experienced cast, all of whom do double duty on stage playing multiple characters. The “big name” making his stage debut in the production is Noah Schnapp (young Dylan and Todd) who audiences will know as Will from the Netflix behemoth show Stranger Things. Juliet Cowan (Ellen, Beverley and Liz) has appeared in Broken Glass at the Young Vic and in numerous TV shows including Eastenders, Shameless and Skins. Rupert Young (Brad and older Dylan) has a slew of Shakespearean stage credits and appeared in the London production of Dear Evan Hansen. Donald Sage Mackay (Dennis, Charles and Ron) previously played the lead in Girl From the North Country in the West End and has numerous film and TV credits including Jack Ryan, Modern Family and Mad Men. Janette Manrara (Rosa, Angela and Debbie) is internationally known as a member of the Strictly Come Dancing and So You Think You Can Dance? TV shows. And Wallis Currie-Wood (Anna and Crystal) has previously appeared in the West End production of Elektra amongst other credits.
So we have an interesting and topical theme, a rising star writer/director, and an experienced cast – you would think the stage is literally set for success. But you would be wrong. Let’s start with the good. Charlie Corcoran’s set is brilliant – attractive, clever and hardworking. When the lights go up we find ourselves looking into in a beach house in the uber-wealthy Hamptons outside New York City, all blond wood, pale furniture and carefully hung modern art. The house is literally sliced in half like a doll’s house so you can simultaneously see into the upstairs bedroom that teenage Dylan occupies. By moving elements on the far right and left wings, the stage also becomes lawyer Brad’s home and lawyer Angela’s office – a transformation that the cast themselves can make in minutes. There are also some great sound and lighting effects evoking the car accident.
Act One opens with wealthy parents Ellen and Dennis having a combative consultation with lawyer Brad. It is gradually revealed that their teenage son Dylan (who is upstairs in his room playing violent video games and annoying the housekeeper) is in some sort of legal trouble. At first the parents’ calmness seems to suggest that it is a minor traffic offence: Ellen (glass of white wine in hand and clearly used to a life where everything always works out in her favour) witters on about what a good boy Dylan is. Dennis is by turns apoplectic with rage at his son for being “so stupid”; at Dylan’s Hispanic girlfriend for having spoken to the police; and at the lawyer for suggesting that this is not a problem that he can make disappear by throwing money at it. Throughout, Dennis talks about the optics of the situation and managing the narrative – so it is a shock when the audience learns that Dylan’s “minor misdemeanour” was driving drunk and killing two people. Brad’s disbelief is compounded when he speaks to Dylan to ask him if he is sorry for what he has done, and Dylan expresses remorse for crashing his dad’s car, rather than refer to the deaths he has caused. He is totally unfazed by the idea of a criminal conviction – his primary concern is being grounded while the trial is pending and all his friends are out and about enjoyin the summer break.
So far so good. Act one raises really fundamental questions about the American justice system – about the relative value of a life being determined by the victim’s ethnic or financial background; and the thorny issues surrounding the ethics of settling civil claims or how to gie financial value to a human life. There is also a cleverly staged scene where the grieving father of one of the victims speaks to members of the gossip-hungry press and the dialogue alternates between his calm external statements and his enraged inner monologue. And of course there are the central issues of moral accountability, family legacy, and the question whether somebody raised with extreme wealth and generational privilege can be so sheltered from consequences of their own actions that they fail to understand (or indeed see) the difference between right and wrong. That is already a lot to ponder in about an hour – there is food for thought and themes to explore for days here. I did wonder as we went for interval drinks where Act 2 was going to go, given that by the end of Act One the criminal trial central to the play was aleady done and dusted.
What I did not expect was for Act 2 to have inexplicably fast-forwarded a couple of decades post-accident. The beach house is still the same house but as soon as the lights go up you can see that things have changed. Paintings hang askew or have been removed, leaving only their ghost impression on the wall, and cardboard pizza and mail order boxes litter the floor in an unkempt room. Years have passed, Dylan’s protective parents are gone and apparently so has his inheritance, so he is now starring in his own fly-on-the-wall TV reality show. Yes, you read that correctly – Act 2 is a satire on the reality TV genre. Rupert Young has transformed from the clean but lawyer Brad to aimless adult Dylan who has acquired a mob wife-esque girlfriend Crystal (played by Currie-Wood as a dead ringer for Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinnie). Following them around with microphones and a camera are long-suffering director Liz (imagine Bridget Jones minus her joie de vivre), cameraman Ron (a hilarious Mackay) and Manrara as the sound engineer. We also see Shnapp back on stage as Dyan’s own son Todd, all emo eyeliner and attitude. Anyone waiting for a continuation of the storyline from Act One is in for a disappointment. Make no mistake – Act 2 is amusing in places (Liz and Ron in particular have some great moments and lines and Ron gets a hilarious lip sync scene) but I kept wondering why this seemingly filler scene about reality TV was going on so long. Spoiler alert: it takes up the entirety of Act 2, other than a brief flashback at the very end.
As the audience filed out after the final curtain the overwhelming question on the lips of most people around me was “what the hell was THAT all about?” The non sequitur of Act 2 after Act 1 was completely baffing, given there was enough narrative and thematic material in Act 1 to fill an entire evening. The pacing, too, was uneven: we seemed to rush past lots of fundamental things in Act 1 (you had to pay close attention to the dialogue to catch that the criminal case is done and dusted!) and then practically nothing happens in Act 2, other than a lengthy meditation on the evils of reality TV. Performances are mixed: I really loved Juliet Cowan as director Liz – she has a great comic turn – but I was less keen on her bunny-in-the-headlights turn as a victim’s mother. Mackay was convincing both when playing it straight and for laughs, but ironically it is Manrara who is better known as a dancer who delivers the most consistent performance. Currie-Wood’s Crystal was funny in small doses but became less subtle and more grating as the evening wore on. Schnapp’s portrayal of the two teens was samey and in no way nuanced.
And then there were the many questions we were left with. What of the Hispanic girlfriend mentioned in the first half? Is she Dylan’s shadowy ex-wife? How long have the parents been dead and why did they not put Dylan’s money in a trust fund to protect it? Where on earth would somebody in Dylan’s wealthy social circle even meet Crystal? Why does a character come back on stage in tears, and why do none of the other characters even mention it? And where does Dylan’s son Todd get his apparent moral compass from as we know it’s not from his father? By the Act 2’s climax comes, we are all too bewildered to be moved by it in any way. The car crash is not only central to the plot – it becomes a fitting metaphor for the whole play.
Coco Chanel once famously gave this advice to be stylish: put on all your accessories that you want to wear, and then take off the last one you added. Sandberg’s play might have benefited from the theatrical equivalent. There are way too many themes going on in the narrative – any one of the questions around privilege, race, wealth and the American justice system could have formed the source material for a play on their own, as could a critique of the corrosive effects of reality TV. But in trying to tackle all of them in 2 hours, the play does justice to none. The frustrating thing is that there is a kernel of a good, maybe even a great, play at the heart of this production. The theme of the distortion of the justice system by extreme wealth and privilege is incredibly pertinent with current news of the Cornell 7. But if you are looking for thoughtful, coherent insights on this troubling phenomenon or an emotional gut punch, I’m afraid you will have to look elsewhere.
Affluenza is showing at Riverside Studios from 26 September to 28 November. Performances start at 19h00 Mon to Sat and the run time is 2h05m including a 15m interval. Tickets start from £25 and are available here.
Riverside Studios
101 Queen Caroline Street
Hammersmith
London
W6 9BN
Tel: 02082371010
E-mail: boxoffice@riversidestudios.co.uk
Looking for some more off-West End productions? Check out our off-West End theatre previews.
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