Golden Boy Crackles with Intimate Intensity: a masterclass in economy of spectacle

As director, Sam Yates reins in the whorling intensity in this production masterfully. He allows a buzz of tense energy to underscore the piece and chooses, with the precision of a surgeon, when to allow that undercurrent to burst forth in a cataclysm of sound and fury.

Golden Boy, written by Clifford Odets in 1937, follows the trials of Joe Bonaparte (Josh O’Connor), a gifted young violinist who becomes beguiled by a world of money, cars and violence. He abandons music in favour of becoming a champion boxer, a road that will strip him of everything he holds dear. The dialogue is sharp, the tension unrelenting, and the climax is near heart-stopping. Yates does not shy away from the grit and grime of this tale. Bonaparte is never painted as the new Gatsby, his newfound wealth is never opulent. This is emblematic of Yate’s approach: the economy of spectacle. The audience is rarely bombarded with intense set, movement or emotion. This leaves certain scenes to feel like they are dragging (particularly in the first act). However, when Yates does unleash the full intensity of the production, the bout of poor pacing is easily forgiven.

Vice seems to perfectly understand Yates’s economy of spectacle. She allows her set to become utilitarian. 

Rozanne Vice ushers us into the grimy underworld of Golden Boy with her minimalist set. No garish colours, no elaborate set dressings and all the more intimate for that. An unchanging set serves this production immensely; scene transitions become an intricate dance of characters weaving between each other and in moments of blistering emotion, there is nowhere for the audience’s attention to take shelter. Vice and Yates have worked closely on projects such as Vanya (National Theatre, 2024) where a similarly sparse set was constructed to great effect. Vice seems to perfectly understand Yates’s economy of spectacle. She allows her set to become utilitarian. Each scene finds a place to nestle on the stage without needing a spectacular set change to shift between scenes. The set serves its purpose beautifully without becoming ostentatious. It allows the performance of the actors to become the focus on stage. The set is further enhanced by James Farncombe’s masterful naturalistic lighting. Once again, this element is understated but technically outstanding. From a cool daylight filtering through a grimy window, to sodium streetlights bathing an office in their glow, Farncombe rarely resorts to dramatic lighting-scapes and never uses colour. The lighting, like the set, is monochromatic, understated, and yet feels achingly real.

One thing that is never understated is the sound-design. A live string-quartet shelters behind a sliding shutter, which Josh O’Connor slams shut or prises open frequently. The haunting classical music lifts the production out of its highly naturalistic status-quo and transports us straight into Bonaparte’s crumbling psyche. A discordant cacophony of a soundscape accompanies the climax of the play that contrasts strongly with the ethereal chorus of strings that flows throughout the rest of the piece. This denouement is accompanied by a projection that throws the simple set into a whorl of hazy shapes and lurid shadows. Yates has included projections in much of his previous work from Murder Ballad (Arts Theatre, 2016) to The Phlebotomist (Hampstead Theatre, 2018) to great effect. However, he outdoes himself in this production with a live feed from a camera attached to a suspended punching bag which is then projected onto the entire set. The effect is confusing, overwhelming, and visually stunning.

Hayley Squires as Lorna Moon is the picture of restraint. Her performance is beautifully controlled; perfect, razor-sharp delivery with a tenderness that constantly threatens to break through her steely facade. She is so economical with her emotions, never indulging an expression to cross her face that isn’t carefully calculated. This makes her chemistry with O’Connor’s character all the more compelling. In their scenes together, you find yourself riveted to even the most miniscule twitch of her lips, or the tears glinting in her eyes while her face is a mask of disdain. Any giveaway on how the two truly feel for each other must be sought out in every micro expression. You find yourself craning your neck towards the stage or screen, endlessly fixated on the subtleties of the exchange.

O’Connor himself delivers yet another stand-out performance as Joe Bonaparte. He delivers poetry like its prose – and that’s a complement of the highest order. No utterance, no matter how poetic, ever feels forced from the young upstart Bonaparte. Lines ridden with alliteration and laden with meaning; they trip off O’Connor’s tongue with naturalism and ease. Try saying “in the bargain his brain is better than the best” three times fast and make it sound natural!

 No expression is wasted, no outburst of grief, sorrow or anger is mistimed or overwrought. 

Stanley Townsend tugs on the heart strings with his achingly tender performance as Bonaparte’s father. Zubin Varna plays gangster Eddie Fuseli with the cold intensity of a shark, and the slightly awkward mannerisms of a man who finds himself high above any social niceties. The commonality of all these performances, what Yates is able to draw out of his actors, is what I will dub an economy of emotion. No expression is wasted, no outburst of grief, sorrow or anger is mistimed or overwrought. Yates has reined in his actors to produce an incredibly controlled and restrained production, and finally, when these performers are given their heads, when they are allowed to rage and roar, it is spellbinding. The result is an enthralling intensity that thrums under the whole performance and leaves the audience craving a catharsis. Lord knows they are not disappointed when it comes.

This is a production that demands your full attention and a riveted eye. It does not shy away from minimalistic movement, sparse set-design and polished performances. However, for all this restraint, audiences will leave their seats overwhelmed and blown-away by the devastating denouement.

There’s no other way to say it: the show’s a knock-out and I will be soon seated, when it’s released in cinemas, eager for round two.

Golden Boy comes to cinemas worldwide from 5 November with National Theatre Live. You can find your local venue at www.ntlive.com