What seems like a safe choice—a classic play on the National Theatre’s biggest stage, the Olivier—quickly proves to be far more radical. From early on, it’s clear that Indhu Rubasingham’s first commission as Artistic Director isn’t just a play, it’s a mission statement for the National Theatre’s next era.
This is Euripides’ Greek tragedy, reimagined as a genre-breaking, contemporary tale of femme-power and queerness, with a pro-immigrant stance that refuses to bow to the populist influence of the day. Playwright Nima Taleghani—best known for adapting Cyrano de Bergerac for Jamie Lloyd and appearing in the TV show Heartstopper—has turned the story into a bawdy, hilarious piece of verse, stripped of classical pretension. This is theatre made for Londoners in 2025.
In this version, the Bacchae—female followers of Dionysos (Ukweli Roach)—are a rough, diverse crew of warriors, thinkers, poets and party girls, out for a good time as they assassinate patriarchal dictators. But in Thebes, Dionysos’ cousin King Pentheus (James McArdle) isn’t having it. He brands this roving band of multinational women a terrorist group and bans them from the city. When the Bacchae kidnap Pentheus’ mother, Agave (Sharon Small), hoping to use her as leverage, she shocks everyone by embracing their lifestyle. She becomes one of their most voracious and violent converts. Believing Agave has been murdered, and driven by an almost sexual curiosity, Pentheus disguises himself as a woman and infiltrates the Bacchae camp to find out what’s really going on.
The tone is set early on as a severed horse’s head hovers above the stage before Vida (Clare Perkins), the Bacchae’s bawdy South London leader, breaks the spell. She introduces each of her comrades, turning the traditional Greek chorus into a chaotic, eclectic group of women. She’s matched by the swaggering geezer-god Dionysos (Roach), who seems more at home in trainers than Grecian sandals, spitting Taleghani’s verse like rap lyrics. In contrast, McArdle’s vain, simpering Pentheus plays the repressed ruler to comic effect. Both cousins suffer from deep-rooted “mummy issues”, and their choices are driven by repeated lies; the kind that, said often enough, become an excuse to kill.
Thanks to an outstanding cast, Bacchae is an absolute riot. McArdle gives Pentheus a childlike, subversive thrill as he releases his repressed sexuality through drag. Ukweli Roach plays Dionysos almost like an MC, cheekily narrating scenes with the flair of a seasoned queen. Simon Startin’s tired, prophesying Tiresias adds a dry, comedic balance to the production’s more excessive moments. While the bickering among the Bacchae feels instantly familiar to anyone who’s spent time in activism, politics, or community work.
The best word to describe this Bacchae might be “messy”; a lot happens on stage, fuelled by an overflow of energy and invention. But that creative explosion sometimes lacks the structure and discipline to fully land. This is still a Greek tragedy, and the wild, freewheeling journey to the pivotal murder is not always smooth. The play’s messaging about immigration, gender, and patriarchal violence hits hard, but at times without subtlety. But Vida’s closing address to the audience seals the evening with a glorious challenge for creativity and inclusion that sends the crowds out on a high.
Still, with its surplus of ideas and verve, Bacchae sets the stage for a bold new National Theatre, ready to meet the times. Arguably the UK’s most influential theatre—and the one with the biggest global footprint thanks to National Theatre Live—the NT is stepping into new territory. With Indhu Rubasingham championing queerness, outsiders, and fresh voices, the future looks promising.
By Chad Armstrong.
Bacchae plays at the National Theatre, London until November 1st, 2025. For tickets head to nationatheatre.org.uk.
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