Review of ‘High Noon’: “Stage adaptation of Western classic is all hat and no cattle”

The 1950s Hollywood film travels to the London scene with the world premiere of its stage adaptation, starring Billy Crudup and Denise Gough. Guillermo Nazara shares his views on the show to let us know if this theatrical rodeo wins its spurs.

There are a few valid reasons why the film has endured as a classic. And there are twice as many why its stage adaptation won’t — at least, not the one currently running at London’s Harold Pinter Theatre, and whose promising A-list cast sadly can’t deliver half the promise their names carry.

It’s not that often that an old-school Western treads the boards of the West End. This won’t probably be the last, but it certainly hasn’t left audiences with a strong appetite for more — it doesn’t matter whether they are familiar with the original movie or not.

High Noon opened last Friday, with Billy Crudup and Denise Gough taking over Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly’s timeless roles. Their most recent credits precede them. Crudup’s powerhouse performance in Harry Clarke was an unequivocal highlight of 2024’s theatrical zenith, while Gough’s acclaimed portrayal in the globally acclaimed People, Places, and Things has solidified her reputation on both sides of the Atlantic.

Now, both revered actors have followed the trail of two gigantic Tinseltown legends. The result isn’t as polished as we would wish for. They might have tried to step into their boots, but in reality, what they’ve mostly done is bury their characters in a boot hill.

It’s not entirely their fault, although Crudup has a lot to answer for. His rendition might have been influenced by the staging’s timber-based aesthetics. Consequently, he’s appropriately wooden — lacking the stoic charm that Cooper’s persona so majestically emanated.

Gough’s execution is noticeably better, but it still fails to convey the warmth and natural glamour that made Kelly a Hollywood darling. The approach is slightly different, nonetheless. Here, she has more determination and prominence. To some extent, it’s welcome. For some, long gone are the days of the faint ingenue with a bag of smelling salts under her girdle, although the longevity of Lloyd Webber’s Victorian melodrama, playing for four decades straight just around the corner, might prove that theory wrong.

Her change of character isn’t as crucial as the sketchiness of her nature. And that goes for everyone involved — and especially, the story. Eric Roth’s version doesn’t capture the sparkle of Carl Foreman’s Oscar-winning picture, despite featuring quasi-verbatim dialogue.

The core issue stems from its inability to build pacing and structure. The play lasts for approximately the same time as its screen counterpart. Yet, the reactions both trigger are the exact opposite. While Foreman’s fast-rhythm narrative increases its gripping tension, Roth’s heavy-handed take creates an ironic dichotomy — it’s lethargic in terms of engagement, while its plot development comes across as rushed and vapid.

A few songs fill up the emotional gaps that the script can’t provide by itself. On some level, they elevate the poignancy. However, none of them is given enough room to expand the personages’ arcs (primarily Gough’s) in a satisfactory manner. The addition of a break-dance number as a prelude to the recount’s climax serves as a questionable substitute for the iconic stable fire scene, and hardly anyone would accept it as the answer.

Tim Hatley’s design is adequate but uninspired. Wooden-board panels slide in and out to delineate each scene with the occasional help of a few props. Overall, it’s functional. It’s nurtured by theatrical tradition, and it communicates decently. However, the general impression is that of an overly safe and unimaginative depiction. It doesn’t need to innovate, but it’s imperative that it doesn’t bore or lose its enticement. And apart from a superbly done train arrival for the antagonist’s entrance, the general vibe is overwhelmingly monotonous.

The ensemble is more competent in their small roles than most of the leads and supporting actors are, with the exception of Billy Howle, whose interpretation of the disturbed Harvey Pell is stirring and well-layered. Rosa Salazar’s performance as Helen Ramirez doesn’t leave us with the same feelings, nonetheless. In fact, and most sadly, she doesn’t leave us with any — coming off flat and shallow in a vacuous impersonation of Katy Jurado’s rendition.

Simon Chandler regales us with one of the most memorable portrayals as Howe and the Minister, both of whom he delivers with magnetic presence and ease. Similarly, James Doherty encapsulates Frank Miller’s villainous mystique, despite a terribly dull and uncomfortably campy final-battle scene.

There’s no silver bullet to save this production, although the problems aren’t difficult to spot. Despite its admiration for the original film, none of its legacy seems to pervade Eric Roth’s theatrical translation of High Noon, which is devoid of narrative resources and a proper understanding of what made the source material work in the first place. A giant clock hangs onstage until the ominous time comes. For the creatives, it was a symbol of impending fear and a means to boost the excitement. For the viewers, it’s just a way to avoid checking it on your phone.

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All pictures credit to Johan Persson.

High Noon plays at London’s Harold Pinter Theatre until 6 March. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara