Last Updated on February 17, 2026
Honour is merely a word
It ends with a mother’s plea. Coriolanus, ravaged by vengefulness, is convinced – by the only person capable of moving his hardened heart – to lay down arms. Persuaded that while it may be better to be honourable than hungry for power, it is still better to be good.
Lyndsey Turner’s production of Coriolanus is a play with Volumnia – Coriolanus’ mother, played by Pamela Nomvete – at its heart. It is she who demands of Coriolanus that he lay his honour aside to debase himself, as Coriolanus sees it, in the pursuit of political office. And, in the final act, it is she who calms his rage to save Rome. One believes wholeheartedly that only Nomvete’s Volumnia is able to humble Coriolanus; that she alone, in raising him, knows where his vulnerabilities lie. To the outside world, he is invincible, but to his mother, he is putty in her hands.
In the first half, David Oyelowo plays Coriolanus as a naive firebrand, but he returns from the interval as a scarred and measured leader. One can read all the drama of the tragedy on Oyelowo’s face, supported by Tom Gibbons’s booming sound design.
On stage, Roman relics sit on plinths – evidence of an empire destroyed as if warning the characters of the fate that awaits them in the end. The set acts to present the events of the play as one moment in the long history of Rome, but amongst them, Coriolanus stands out as unique – a man so devoted to his country that, like God and the flood, he is willing to destroy it to save it from its own corruption.
This production is beautifully polished – from the performances to the set and the music. Although one is not quite convinced by the speed at which the people turn against Coriolanus – perhaps the weakness of his adversaries, while emphasising Coriolanus’ charisma by contrast, is exaggerated – Turner’s direction succeeds by squeezing every drop of drama from Shakespeare’s words. The emotion rises gradually towards a downpour.
The rise and fall of Coriolanus is the central story of the play, but it is Volumnia’s soliloquies for which the audience stays extra quiet. Coriolanus may hold his honour so dear that he is willing to burn his homeland to the ground in its name, but, when placed next to his mother, “honour” is merely a word, and Rome seems the size of a thimble.
Coriolanus at the National Theatre runs until 9th November 2024. Buy tickets here.
National Theatre
Southbank
London
SE1 9PX
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