The Midnight Bell

The Midnight Bell
cinematic, and soaked in Soho soul

Midnight Bell, inspired by the works of English novelist Patrick Hamilton (though not a direct retelling of the novel of the same name), transports audiences to 1930s London with an evocative blend of nostalgia and grit. Set and costume design by Lez Brotherston effortlessly immerses us in this world. Though stylised, the set immediately evokes a sense of the past, with atmospheric haze allowing Paule Constable’s lighting to pierce through beautifully.

The pub, The Midnight Bell, forms the central hub of the action, where the characters; a lonely spinster, a young prostitute, a hopeful chorus boy, and others drift in and out, all bearing a shared sense of longing and frustration. This piece, unlike some other New Adventures productions, has an overarching thematic thread, though it allows moments of ambiguity and interpretation. The staging often felt cinematic, with lights playing off details such as garden rails, neon signage, and the suspended top of a phone box adding to the stylistic design. One particularly striking image involved a dancer performing beneath the red telephone box top, holding a classic payphone receiver, a moment both visually rich and full of quiet meaning.

Matthew Bourne’s choreography, as expected, delivers precision, emotion, and flair. The show features familiar motifs, such as the exaggerated bend and gyrate (surely there’s a more elegant term) which reliably delighted the crowd. Costuming choices, including suspenders and boxers, added to the playful yet grounded tone.

Two beautifully executed chair duets take place on a park bench, offering moments of intimacy and tenderness. However, it was the ensemble sequences that truly shone. Multiple couples inhabit the stage at once, each set within their own hotel ‘room’. They fall into the bed, step over one another, and move as if the others do not exist. This choreography required incredible precision and trust; the result was both mesmerising and emotionally layered.

Notably, one couple explores a same-sex relationship in a time when homosexuality remained criminalised in the UK. Their connection felt poignant and brave, framed against the secrecy and tension of the era. Early in the piece, there’s a bustling pub scene, where characters push in and out of the space with realism and urgency. Having directed similar sequences myself, I can attest to the difficulty of making such moments feel organic, this one was masterfully handled. I only wish I could study that segment for inspiration.

While most characters were clearly defined, there were moments where I had to recall their previous scenes to follow the narrative throughline. Occasionally, dancers lip-synced to period songs, the only spoken or sung words in the show. While the selections fit the time period, the abruptness of their inclusion slightly jarred. I would have preferred if the sound design treated these as diegetic, perhaps coming from an onstage radio or at least matched the volume and tone with the rest of the score more seamlessly. Additionally, sustained horror-style notes were used throughout to create suspense; though effective in places, they occasionally felt overused in scenes that didn’t require tension.

Rather than leaning into Hollywood glamour, Midnight Bell revels in Soho grit. It’s a moody, atmospheric piece filled with sharp choreography and emotional depth. Another success from Bourne’s unique repertoire.

Photo credit: Johan Persson