Kyoto

A Theatrical Triumph That Leaves a Lasting Impression

Every so often, a play comes along that doesn’t just entertain but truly captivates, challenges, and lingers in the mind long after the final bow. Kyoto is one of those rare productions—an intricately woven, thought-provoking piece of theater that is nothing short of excellence.

At its heart, Kyoto is a masterclass in theatrical storytelling, seamlessly blending direction, design, and performance into a cohesive, near-flawless experience. It is an emotional, intellectually stimulating, and visually arresting production that demands attention, reflection, and discussion.

Much of Kyoto’s brilliance is owed to the meticulous and inspired direction of Stephen Daldry and Justin Martin. Their combined vision results in a production that feels both intimate and grand, personal yet universal. The pacing is exceptional—tight and purposeful, yet never rushed. They allow moments to breathe when necessary, giving weight to silences just as much as spoken words.

Miriam Buether’s set design is striking in its simplicity, yet layered with meaning. At first glance, it appears minimalist, but as the play unfolds, subtle shifts and hidden details reveal a complexity that mirrors the narrative itself. The incorporation of the desks is a particularly clever touch—what initially seems mundane becomes a powerful symbol, reinforcing the play’s core themes. It’s a reminder that great design doesn’t always need to be elaborate—it needs to be effective.

Natalie Pryce’s costume design is another highlight. Her work is understated yet deeply effective, grounding the characters in authenticity while subtly reinforcing their personalities and arcs. Nothing feels out of place or forced; rather, each costume choice adds another layer to the performance, whether through colour, texture, or silhouette. It’s a testament to how costuming, when done right, can serve as an extension of character rather than merely a decorative element.

Lighting, by Aideen Malone, is almost flawless—though not without a small missed opportunity. Throughout most of the play, Malone’s lighting choices enhance mood and atmosphere with precision. However, in the forest scene, a touch of color could have elevated the moment, creating a more immersive contrast. Instead, the scene leans heavily on the exceptional video projections by Akhila Krishnan. The projections are thought-provoking, seamlessly integrated into the narrative rather than feeling like an afterthought. They add depth and texture to the production, transforming the stage into something dynamic and ever-evolving. The visuals enhance rather than overshadow, providing a perfect example of how multimedia can be used effectively in theatre.

Paul Englishby’s music underscores the production beautifully. The score is evocative without being intrusive, complementing the emotional beats of the story rather than dictating them. It’s one of those rare instances where music feels like an organic extension of the play’s soul rather than an accessory.

While Act 1 concludes on an impactful note—an undeniable high point of the show—Act 2’s ending is where the production falters slightly. There’s a sense of ambiguity, which, while potentially intentional, feels somewhat unclear in its execution. It’s not that the conclusion lacks power, but rather that it doesn’t quite land with the same precision as the first act’s climactic moment.

A production of this caliber needs a leading performance that can carry its weight—and the Tour-de-Force performance by Stephen Kunken delivers in every possible way. Kunken is on stage for nearly the entire two hours and thirty minutes, yet his presence never wanes. He commands attention without ever feeling forced, embodying Don with a depth that is both mesmerising and heartbreaking. That he was overlooked at this year’s Olivier Awards is, frankly, a major oversight. Kunken’s performance is the kind that defines a career, leaving an indelible mark on those fortunate enough to witness it. He balances moments of quiet introspection with bursts of raw intensity, making Don feel achingly real. It’s the kind of performance that stays with you long after the curtain falls.

Jenna Augen, in the role of Shirley, delivers an equally compelling performance, albeit in a role that feels somewhat sidelined. While her stage time is limited, she makes every moment count. Her presence is undeniable, and her emotional speech toward the end is one of the show’s most moving moments—a true gut punch that leaves the audience in tears.

The rest of the cast is equally impressive. Each actor brings nuance and depth to their role, ensuring that no character feels one-dimensional. This is a cast that understands the power of ensemble work—there are no weak links, only complementary performances that enrich the storytelling.

Certain moments in Kyoto stand out as particularly striking. The interplay of fire and papers is a visual and thematic triumph, sparking discussions during the interval.

Kyoto is a rare gem—a production that is intellectually stimulating, emotionally gripping, and visually stunning. It is a play that demands to be seen, discussed, and remembered. It stays with you, gnawing at your thoughts in the days that follow, prompting reflection on its themes, its characters, and its stunning execution. If you have the opportunity to see Kyoto, seize it.

This is theatre at its finest—challenging, moving, and utterly unforgettable.