Hampstead Theatre has long been a sanctuary for innovative storytelling and compelling performances, and its latest production, Reykjavik, is no exception. Written by Richard Bean, known for his sharp wit and engaging narratives, this world premiere delves into the aftermath of a tragic fishing trawler disaster that leaves a community grappling with loss and survival. Set partly in Hull, and partly against the stark beauty of Iceland, the play explores themes of grief, resilience, and the often absurd ways people cope with tragedy.
The story unfolds in February 1975, when the fishing trawler Graham Greene sinks off the coast of Iceland, taking fifteen crew members with it. The narrative centers on Donald Claxton, the despised owner of the trawler, who impulsively flies to Reykjavik to visit the survivors. It’s very much a play of two halves, with the first half taking place in his office when he first hears of the disaster, and the second half a couple of days later taking place in the hotel with the survivors after he’s jumped on a plane.
The play balances moments of dark humor with poignant reflections on life and death, illustrating how humor can serve as a coping mechanism in times of despair. Through their interactions, the characters confront their pasts and grapple with what it means to move forward after such a devastating event. The writing is phenomenal, as you’d expect from the man who wrote ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’. Richard Bean has researched the fishing industry and delivers fascinating insights, from Claxton’s instruction to delay a trawler’s return to England by a day to keep the price the price of the haddock up, to a fascinating and slow reveal of the mechanics of what turns out to be the ‘Widow’s Walk’; a traditional walk down the street where all the widows of sunken ships live. The level of detail (they’ll offer you a cup of tea. You have to drink it, but don’t use their toilet. These are the pubs where you won’t be attacked. Don’t sit down; you’ll be sitting in the dead man’s chair) generates a sense of fascinated horror.
The performances in Reykjavik are stellar. John Hollingworth as Donald Claxton delivers a nuanced portrayal of a man burdened by guilt and responsibility. His character’s journey from self-serving businessman to a more reflective figure is compelling. As he says at one point, when being lambasted by a survivor: “That’s my real job in this industry – to be hated. It’s not to pay for the vessels or finance the trade. It’s to be the focus of the community’s hate.”
The ensemble all play two characters; one in each half. Sophie Cox shines as Charlotte in Hull – a naive new secretary who acts as a foil to Claxton’s character – and more centrally, Einhildur in the second half, the moody Icelandik hotel owner owner who turns out to be unlikely love interest of one of the survivors.
Directed by Emily Burns, Reykjavik skillfully balances the play’s darker themes with humour. The pacing is well-judged; scenes transition smoothly without losing emotional impact. The set design by Anna Reid effectively captures the essence of a coastal town while remaining versatile enough to accommodate various scenes.
There’s something universally relatable about characters grappling with grief—whether it’s learning to forgive oneself or finding ways to connect with others—that resonates deeply across different backgrounds.
Reykjavik is a beautifully crafted piece that speaks volumes about love, loss, and resilience through its engaging storytelling. It’s an experience that will resonate with anyone who has ever grappled with familial ties or sought understanding within themselves.