The Highwayman Rides Again: Why This Play Matters More Than Ever
There’s something undeniably captivating about a story that refuses to stay in its own time. The Highwayman, John Godber’s reimagined tale of an infamous outlaw, is one such story. Set to grace the Queen’s Hall stage on October 28 and 29, this production isn’t just a historical drama—it’s a mirror held up to our modern world. And personally, I think that’s what makes it so compelling.
What strikes me most is how Godber’s work consistently blends the past with the present, using history as a lens to dissect contemporary issues. Cast member Dylan Allcock nails it when he calls the play ‘political,’ but what’s truly fascinating is how it avoids feeling preachy. Instead, it leans into the theatricality of its historical setting, employing comedic archetypes and histrionic characters to deliver its message. This isn’t just a play about an outlaw; it’s a commentary on power, desperation, and the enduring gap between the haves and have-nots.
One thing that immediately stands out is the play’s focus on social disparity. Matheea Ellerby, who plays Molly May, points out that the issues of the past—inequality, defiance, and the struggle for survival—are eerily relevant today. In my opinion, this is where the play’s genius lies. It doesn’t just tell us about history; it forces us to confront our own reality. When Ellerby asks, ‘Should we live in a world where trillionaires exist?’ she’s not just quoting a line—she’s echoing a question that’s on the minds of millions.
What many people don’t realize is how theatre can serve as a time machine, transporting us to different eras while simultaneously grounding us in the present. Godber’s use of theatrical devices from various periods isn’t just a stylistic choice; it’s a way to highlight the cyclical nature of societal problems. As Allcock notes, the play tackles issues that ‘never really get fixed,’ giving a voice to those on the fringes. This raises a deeper question: why do we keep repeating the same mistakes?
From my perspective, the decision to reduce the cast from four to three actors adds an intriguing layer of complexity. Emilio Encinoso-Gil, who plays John Swift, suggests this change brings a ‘fresh dynamic’ to the show. I couldn’t agree more. With fewer actors, the ensemble must work harder to carry the narrative, and that intensity can only amplify the play’s themes. It’s a bold move, but one that feels necessary in a world where attention spans are shorter than ever.
A detail that I find especially interesting is the play’s exploration of desperation. Allcock observes that The Highwayman examines ‘the lengths people will go to when they feel forgotten by the state.’ This resonates deeply in an era defined by economic uncertainty and political disillusionment. If you take a step back and think about it, the highwayman isn’t just a criminal—he’s a symbol of rebellion against a system that fails its people.
What this really suggests is that the line between hero and villain is often blurred. The highwayman’s actions are criminal, yet his motivations are rooted in survival. This moral ambiguity is what makes the story so timeless. It challenges us to question our own definitions of justice and fairness.
Looking ahead, I’m curious to see how audiences respond to this production. Will they see it as a mere historical drama, or will they recognize the parallels to today’s world? Personally, I think the latter is inevitable. The play’s themes of inequality, defiance, and the human cost of systemic failure are too relevant to ignore.
In conclusion, The Highwayman isn’t just a play—it’s a conversation starter. It invites us to reflect on our past, confront our present, and perhaps even imagine a different future. What makes this particularly fascinating is how it manages to do all of this while entertaining us with wit, romance, and beautifully arranged songs. If you’re looking for a night at the theatre that’s both thought-provoking and wildly entertaining, this is it.
Because, in the end, isn’t that what great theatre should do? Make us think, feel, and question—all while taking us on a wild ride.
