
INTERVIEW
adapted for the stage and directed by Teunkie Van Der Sluijs
based on a screenplay by Theodore Holman and the film by Theo Van Gogh
Riverside Studios, London – until 27 September 2025
running time: 90 minutes no interval
Films being adapted into stage musicals are all too common, but screenplays becoming theatrical dramas are a much rarer proposition. Theo Van Gogh’s 2003 Dutch movie Interview later given a 2007 American makeover by Theodore Holman has an advantage over other such projects as it’s essentially a two hander in a single powderkeg setting, thereby lending it an inevitable theatrical tension from the getgo. Teunkie Van Der Sluijs‘s stage version takes a while to warm up but when it does it’s compulsive, thought-provoking stuff.
Middle aged former war correspondent Pierre (Robert Sean Leonard) is reluctantly interviewing popular actress Katya (Paten Hughes) in her swish Brooklyn loft apartment (chic, gorgeous set design by Broadway’s Derek McLane). They’re both on the defensive, but in different ways: he’s dismissive of her brand of fame and feels he’s slumming it, she bristles when she realises he has done zero preparation or research. Furthermore, he’s distracted by a breaking White House scandal involving the impeachment of the (fictional) VP, which is the type of story he’d much rather be covering, dismissing Katya as the kind of person who “thinks impeachment is a sort of moisturiser” in one of the script’s best jokes.
Van Der Sluijs updates the story by making Katya a social media influencer as well as an actress (“we all want to be seen, not watched, not followed, seen”) which adds to Pierre’s initial disdain. Visually, the production assaults us with text messages, social media posts and live filming projected up on the walls of the set, which at first seems distracting but ends up potently paying its way in the storytelling. Drinks are poured, drugs inhaled, opinions hammered out….the dialogue is provocative, sometimes frustratingly elliptical, but seldom less than compelling.
Interview has interesting, if not necessarily hugely original, things to say about the power and the fragility of celebrity. As Pierre asks Katya “What are you going to do when we decide we’re done watching and just turn you off?” The script skilfully alters the audience’s perception of Katya -first seen stalking on with designer shopping bag, outsize sunglasses and mid cellphone conversation- just as Pierre becomes disarmed by her. Hughes, in a sizzling UK theatre debut, nails the disaffected drawl and too-cool-for-school attitude but also conveys vulnerability, fierce intelligence and a quirky sense of humour under the glossy facade. Hughes leaves us in no doubt that this young woman is a grafter and the architect of her own success, impressing Pierre with her commitment to acting classes (“I’m good at crying”) and embodying a youthful perspective quite different from that of Pierre’s but not untinged by life’s harsh realities.
Leonard matches her with a performance of apparently effortless naturalism. He gives Pierre a relaxed charm but a tough edge that entirely convinces. The script is equally fascinating on the sometimes questionable ethics of journalism, and sexism rife in the media and public eye, and Leonard’s Pierre stands as in an intriguingly ambiguous figure in the midst of several raging storms.
For people unfamiliar with the film, it’s best not to reveal too many plot points but suffice it to say that the piece segues satisfyingly into thriller territory as well as some areas with a pretty high ick factor. The acting is so good and the staging so slick and accomplished that the ride, however uncomfortable, is nonetheless pleasurable, and the conclusion authentically chills. Bernat Buscato’s costume design (carelessly elegant but funky for her, slightly shabby for him) is appropriately understated, while Jackie Shemesh’s atmospheric lighting, Ata Grüner’s doomy sound and compositions and extensive video design Idontloveyouanymore, are all top notch. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it.
Leave a comment