Last Updated on October 19, 2025
Simon Stone hurls Ibsen into 2025, topping a devastating base with a layer of Gen Z zing.
4.0 out of 5.0 starsSuicide. Murder. Climate breakdown. Neurodegenerative disease. Paedophilia. Miscarriage.
If you had time to read the long list of content warnings before Simon Stone’s adaptation of Ibsen’s The Lady From The Sea, you would be forgiven for expecting a sombre evening. But Stone puts these fiery issues on a low heat, letting them simmer gently as he distracts with jokes and flirtation. Then he lets them explode.
Initially, the simmering is delightful; quick, witty, and relatable. But when Stone eventually turns up the heat – when veins start popping out of necks and long monologues expound on the unfolding tragedy – the play doesn’t quite deliver. Set up for a knockout, The Lady From The Sea ends up as a mere body blow.
It is in the first half that the pot simmers, and the play is a triumph. It begins on a minimalist set typical of Stone’s adaptations – a dazzling white floor on which sit a few chairs and a table. We are looking in on a family gathering at Edward’s (Andrew Lincoln – star of The Walking Dead) luxurious house on Ullswater, marking the birthday of his deceased wife.
First, there is the young and distant cousin, Heath (Joe Alwyn – The Brutalist, The Favourite), an archetypal dandy-throwback who exchanges poetry about bucolic England with Edward, himself an erudite neurologist. Then there is Ellida (Alicia Vikander – Ex Machina, The Danish Girl), Edward’s second (and younger) wife, fighting a losing battle for her step-daughters’ affections. The young women – Hilda (Isobel Akuwudike) and Asa (Gracie Oddie-James) – are the highlights of the production, lighting up every scene in which they appear with their high energy and stinging, Gen Z quips. Finally, there is Lyle (John Macmillan – Chewing Gum, Phaedra at the National Theatre), Ellida’s ex and specialist tension-easer, the voice of calm in the midst of a brewing storm.
Slowly, we become aware that the family is on the verge of a breakdown. Heath is diagnosed by Edward with a neurodegenerative condition and is given two years to live. Ellida has just had a miscarriage. It is revealed that Edward’s wife died by suicide. And if that wasn’t enough, a conveniently timed radio broadcast results in Ellida’s confession that at the age of 15, she inadvertently killed someone aboard an oil rig while in a romantic relationship with an environmental activist in his 30s. Ibsen’s plays are not known for their levity.
Remarkably, despite these revelations, the first half of The Lady From the Sea is full of laughter. There is an abundance of satisfying word play, audience-pleasing middle-class self-deprecation, and inter-generational play-fighting. Overlapping dialogue creates a genuinely realistic feel. The acting is largely excellent, and the dynamic between Edward, Lyle, and the two daughters crackles. When the subject matter turns dark, laugh-out-loud jokes interweave with devastating admissions, the juxtaposing lines pulling in opposite directions, sending a rip down the centre of the page. “I’ve never been in love,” says Heath, through tears, when confronted by the news that he is dying. Then he adds, almost in the same breath: “I’ve never been to South America.” It is heart-wrenchingly funny.
Stone’s writing, finished only when rehearsals for The Lady From The Sea were already underway, creates a delicious blend of natural, comedic dialogue with Ibsen’s drama. Lincoln is delightful in the role of the well-meaning father and husband who is made to watch, incredulously, as his life falls apart. References to OnlyFans, TikTok, Just Stop Oil, and Luigi Mangione do not sound contrived, but rather become the subject of interesting – although sometimes brief – discussions on Gen Z, the state of the UK, and the place of women in 2025. Stone delves into other issues, too: climate activism and the reaction of the justice system; the popularity of conspiracy theories; mixed race identity in rural England. There is plenty to think about.
The second half of The Lady From the Sea is longer in duration and slower in pace. A new character arrives (Finn, played by Brendan Cowell), who threatens to destroy Edward’s second marriage. Cowell and Vikander are never fully convincing during their long exchanges together, and the best scenes – those in which the whole ensemble is present – occur too rarely. Vikander’s performance is moving at times, but while Ellida is the central character in the play, she ends up less memorable than the others. The laundry list of hot topics that bubbled away so nicely in the first half feels insufficiently tackled when they boil over directly into the drama.
What it loses in speed and wit, The Lady From The Sea makes up for in spectacle. There is shouting and there is crying and there is real rain falling from the sky. There is an imposing soundtrack, and there are exciting changes of lighting, and at the end of the play, the middle of the stage becomes an actual swimming pool. But in trying to be an epic, the play ends up forgetting that it is, at heart, a claustrophobic family drama. Too much crying, too much shouting, and too long standing in the rain make everything feel a little overwrought. It is telling that despite being one of the only characters not to have a fantastic meltdown, it is Oddie-James’s Asa who nearly steals the show.
For those familiar with Simon Stone, this production will feel familiar. It is funny, shocking, and up-to-date with the zeitgeist. Its characterisation is rich. At its best, the dialogue bubbles and crackles and sparkles. It is a shame that in trying to tackle so much, the writing loses some of its best qualities. But even so, The Lady From The Sea is still an engrossing watch.
The Lady from the Sea runs at the Bridge Theatre until 8th November 2025.
3 Potters Fields Park,
Bankside
London SE1 2SG
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