
Review of Animal Farm at Bolton Octagon.
No green fields, not even a blade of grass, in director Iqbal Khan’s atmospheric and bruising Animal Farm at Bolton Octagon. A backdrop of mud-streaked corrugated iron and animal skulls suspended from hooks overhead suggest instead a place of industrial slaughter.
An opening sequence of loud banging, constrained movement and mangled animal sounds further unsettles.
From atop a mound of noisy writhing bodies, Old Major (majestically brought to life by Polly Lister) recounts a dream he has had – of a farm run entirely by animals, where humans have been driven out, and the remaining inhabitants enjoy freedom and equality. As the boar’s vision pours out of him, individual animals begin to emerge from within the fleshy heap, each visibly adjusting to the transformation wrought by Old Major’s words.
Ian Wooldridge’s adaptation of George Orwell’s novel carves out ample space for that vividly described dream of a brighter future, and for a rousing rendition of Beasts of England – an anthem of liberation that the animals adopt. It’s time well spent, helping us to clearly understand why the farm’s population is so wedded to their cause and explaining so much of what is to come.
Soon afterwards, the animals drive out their master and take over the running of the farm, only for a swinish elite to quickly emerge. Led by the scheming Napoleon, played by Ida Regan with all the ease and charm of a Liz Truss with trotters, the pigs gradually reshape Animal Farm to their benefit.
The regime’s mouthpiece Squealer craftily reframes every gain for them as a win for all the inhabitants of the farmyard. Killian Macardle gives the piggy propagandist a more contemporary feel, blatantly offering up his ‘alternative facts’ with a cheeky knowing smile – as if we are somehow in on the joke.
It’s a clever twist, encouraging us to laugh at the ‘stupidity’ of those animals at a time when the real life human pedlars of misinformation are enjoying such success.
After a tight and focused first half, Wooldridge’s adaptation loosens the reins slightly and tension slips. Fortunately, the staging and performances are strong enough to keep things on track.
As the denunciations and killings commence, Ciarán Bagnall’s set and lighting offer a suitably bleak backdrop. The animals’ seven commandments – their guiding principles for life on the farm – are written in large letters on the back panels. The words glow faintly, as if revealed by luminol – like bloody scrawls at a crime scene.
Unjustly, one of those commandments is not “Four legs good. Any number of limbs choreographed by Shelley Eva Haden better”. As well as the mesmerising movements of the show’s opening sequence, Haden gifts the actors an arresting physical vocabulary that allows them to inhabit their various animal forms without resorting to being on all fours.
Amy Drake shows off her versatility, with a couple of highly entertaining performances – as spoilt, coquettish pony Mollie (lots of mane-flicking and excitable prancing) and Moses the preaching crow, spreading the gospel-tinged word about the good life yet to come.
Decent and hard-working, the two horses Boxer and Clover are the heart and soul of the play. Constant companions, they will often affectionately rub rumps. Sam Black’s loveable Boxer is untroubled by overthinking – loyal and willing to believe the best of others. However as time goes on, Clover (an impactful Polly Lister) is increasingly wracked by doubts, and struggles to gather her thoughts.
Khan’s production brings a stark nightmarish quality to Orwell’s political ‘fairy tale’, and that is accentuated in its final moments. Lister’s Clover crumpled in disbelieving despair upon the floor is a painful counterpoint to the grotesquely realised coming together of man and pig. Yes, power has the potential to corrupt – but there is also agony for those forced to let go of their utopian dreams.
Performance seen on 6 February 2024.
Animal Farm runs at Bolton Octagon from 1 February to 24 February 2024.
Then tours to Derby Theatre from 28 February to 16 March 2024 and Hull Truck Theatre from 27 March to 13 April 2024.
Images by Pamela Raith.
