Nye at the National Theatre

“I want to give you your dignity”. So says Nye Bevan (Michael Sheen), staring at the crowd, speaking of the ultimate impulse behind the foundation of the NHS. It was 76 years prior that Aneurin Bevan – “Nye” – altered the trajectory of British history through the establishment of a universally free health service. We are told this story in Tim Price’s epic new play about the Welsh Labour politician.

The play opens at the ends of Aneurin’s life, as he lies on his deathbed in a hospital, succumbing to stomach cancer. Nearing his end, he is besieged by recollections. Visions of his youth as a coal miner’s son in Wales emerge. In one moment, he is punished by a cruel teacher for his stutter; in another, we are taken to his time as a union representative for miners, his confrontations in parliament and a pivotal wartime exchange with Churchill. We follow his ascent from local council politics to the zenith of the House of Commons and a position as Minister of Health under Clement Attlee, portrayed wonderfully by Stephanie Jacob, as a witty, somewhat menacing figure.

Bevan’s fervour and perseverance are contagious; his charisma is mesmerising. We are captivated by his journey, shadowing him through episodes of remorse over his father’s tragic death from pneumoconiosis – which Price interprets as the driving force behind his commitment to universal healthcare. Sheen’s portrayal is, in a word, flawless, infusing the character with playfulness, profound compassion and vulnerability, as he confronts the challenges of loss, married life, self-doubt and the glare of relentless public scrutiny. Churchill, portrayed with striking effectiveness by Tony Jayawardena, embodies the stout, brash statesman. Sharon Small steps into the shoes of Jennie Lee, Bevan’s wife, delivering a nuanced portrayal of a talented woman whose own dreams are sidelined in the wake of her husband’s ambitions. Standing by Bevan’s bed, Roger Evans gives life to Archie Lush, epitomising the unshakeable bond of friendship and unwavering loyalty.

Directed by Rufus Norris, this large production sees the cast adeptly assume multiple roles, a fitting choice for a narrative where Aneurin hovers between consciousness and dreams, life and death. Actors seamlessly transition between roles, with family and friends morphing into medical staff. The set, designed by Vicki Mortimer, switches from hospital wards to debate halls and libraries. Projected screens layer upon each other, with rows of doctors appearing like a Greek chorus.

The show oscillates between the light-hearted and the tragic – it even indulges in a surreal musical interlude where Bevan, the ascending political ladder, transforms into a Sinatra-like singer. Parliamentary debates look like satirical puppet shows, with angry Socialists on one side, screaming at nanny-raised Tories puffing cigars on the other. At times, the play is also brutal. In a particularly harrowing sequence, we see Bevan, newly appointed as Minister of Health, besieged by a throng of destitute individuals. Their desperation, a result of a failing health system that left them and their families suffering in dreadful conditions, creates an indelible impression.

There are a few weaknesses. The musical score doesn’t quite hit the mark, leaning towards an overly sentimental, Hollywood-esque tone that could benefit from greater subtlety. In moments of heightened drama, the soundtrack seems taken from a Spielberg biopic. This feels unnecessary – Bevan’s life story is sufficiently dramatic to engage the audience. The script ambitiously attempts to cover extensive ground, and occasionally leaves the audience scrambling to keep up, especially through the rapid enactment of the NHS’s establishment, a story rich enough to warrant its own script. It shines brightest when focusing on its most intimate interactions. One memorable scene unfurls deep in a coal mine, with Bevan’s father teaching him about mining. “This is all we have,” he utters. Panels of green light cast an illusion of glittering coal. It is beautiful, and heartbreaking.

Nye is a poignant experience – particularly against the backdrop of the NHS’s challenges. In its portrayal of a life lived with purpose and conviction, it is also a timely reminder of the ongoing battle for the fundamental human principle that Nye held dear: dignity.

Constance A
Images: Johan Persson

Nye is at the National Theatre from 24^th February until 11^th May 2024. For further information or to book visit the theatre’s website here.