Review of ‘The Children’ (Lyric Hammersmith, 2026): “Nuclear tragedy misses some of its core”

I can’t stop thinking that the whole premise, message, and even title of this show come across as if they’re honouring (or written by) Helen Lovejoy. Yes, I mean the one from The Simpsons. Fortunately, it has nothing to do with puritan morality but her determination to protect the younger. And the fact that the key problem stems from a nuclear plant disaster makes the resemblance even more uncanny. Suffice it to say that the occasional smirk is inevitable.

You’re allowed to laugh, for the record. Perhaps more than we should. And at times that we’d better not. That’s actually one of my main concerns about this play. It has nothing to do with its humorous intentions but the moments it chooses to let them thrive. There is tragedy as well. A lot of it. But it doesn’t hit as hard as it should. And the reason is always the same: when the poignancy begins to solidify, an unnecessary joke interrupts the process, which sadly never reaches completion.

One may argue that this approach contributes to a steeper emotional roller coaster. Yet, that’s only partially true. It’s fine to use comedy to sharpen the drama. But for that to happen, both need equal room. That’s what’s lacking in Lucy Kirkwood’s script. Although the subtext is strong and pervades the entire recount, the pathos isn’t fully articulated.

In her defence, we can interpret it as the characters hiding behind witty remarks and drollery as a coping mechanism to protect themselves from their own burdens. But none of those is given enough voice. Ultimately, the narrative comes off slightly rushed and underdeveloped. It presents us with all the necessary tools and themes. Yet, most of them are relegated to a short mention.

Unavoidably, the result is unsatisfactory—not because of what it gives, but because of how it does it. The personages are resonant, nonetheless. There is profundity. And their humanity and authenticity are undeniable. But there could be more. And there should, too. In the end, we are offered the sketches of what could be a stirring, thought-provoking play. And although those qualities are there, they are still in the making.

The production is beautifully put together. Gary McCan’s design is elaborate and visually striking. But it’s the blend of representational and symbolic tropes that makes it so compelling. A tilted wooden cabin stands beneath a shadowy concrete arcade. As soon as the memories from the accident hit back, radioactive green lights the space, turning the overhang into a nuclear reactor—suggesting that, no matter how hard they try to look away, their guilt and trauma will haunt them forever.

The performances are rather competent. They may not be the most genuine, but their technique is robust, and their rapport is palpable, which is even more praiseworthy given the personages’ tense relationships. There is nuance as well, but there’s a final layer of emotional depth that’s noticeably missing, especially in the two female roles. Still, Meera Syal delivers a magnetic rendition of Hazel, fairly complemented by Declan Conlon and Kerry Fox’s reserved yet engaging portrayals.

It’s a work that speaks to its audience. And that power could have electrified them. However, its high energy doesn’t translate into a realised piece. Its dramatic blackouts prevent the story from consolidating—and its sentimental side from fully permeating. That doesn’t mean the characters should go into a complete meltdown to be effective, but the fission between potential and outcome is too great to ignore.

The Children plays at London’s Lyric Hammersmith until 3 October. Tickets are available on the following link.

By Guillermo Nazara