True to its name, this new version of The Misanthrope is a difficult play to love. Mercilessly updated from Moliere’s 17th-century comedy of manners by the mercurial Martin Crimp, it’s a jagged diatribe against… well everything. The literary world, the privileged, the young and the old, the passionate and the
Steve Dinneen
Tuesday 30 June 2026 12:17 pm | Updated: Tuesday 30 June 2026 12:59 pm
True to its name, this new version of The Misanthrope is a difficult play to love. Mercilessly updated from Moliere’s 17th-century comedy of manners by the mercurial Martin Crimp, it’s a jagged diatribe against… well everything. The literary world, the privileged, the young and the old, the passionate and the listless, society at large…
Anti-heroine Alice, played by the imperious Sandra Oh, is a firebrand feminist author who is about to be awarded a prize that would cap a glittering career, if only she would distance herself from controversial remarks she made in the past. She won’t, of course. She won’t compromise her principles. She won’t ever compromise her principles.
But does she live by these principles when it comes to her relationship with the roguish young alcoholic actor Stefan? TBC.
Much of the dialogue takes place between Alice and her best friend John, an easygoing playwright who spends much of his time attempting to clean up the messes left in Alice’s wake, not least an incident involving a vengeful young writer whose work-in-progress novel Alice casually savages.
The Misanthrope: Full of ideas
While the acting is excellent throughout – shout-out to Rita Fatania as the deliciously amoral publicist Indira – the writing is patchy, its observations veering from astute to flabby. It’s best when it’s focused, sending up the egos of writers and the absurdity of the literary establishment. Forays into contemporary politics, on the other hand – there’s the obligatory mention of a certain “orange-faced” despot – feel a little cheap by comparison. There’s also a muddy meta narrative in which Moliere becomes a physical presence in the play – part cosplay, part mental breakdown – which feels strangely underwritten in a play that’s rarely short of a thing or three to say.
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It’s certainly pretty, though. The backdrop of Moliere’s French aristocracy is swapped for the palatial surrounds of the chattering classes. Even better is the final act transformation that sees the stage break apart in spectacular fashion, complete with throbbing music.
But The Misanthrope is a play that flatters to deceive, filled to bursting with ideas it’s never quite able to unpack, a shiny bauble loaded with talent that’s just not quite as clever as it thinks it is.
• The Misanthrope is on at the National Theatre’s Lyttelton stage until 1 August – book tickets here
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