The script cleverly flows from conversation to monologue, unmoored by time or location (the story spans decades, but the actors, set and even costumes remain the same). It’s certainly an accomplished production.
It makes for a much blunter narrative: almost four straight hours of unrelenting misery, without any form of resolution, growth or catharsis (as is also true of the book). In adapting the 800-page book into a single play, writers Koen Tachelet and Ivo Van Hove (who also directs) concentrate almost entirely on Jude’s demons, relegating JB and Malcolm especially.
The cast of A Little Life: Zach Wyatt (Malcolm), James Norton (Jude), Omari Douglas (JB) and Luke Thompson (Willem). Here, there’s no escaping how bleak it all is. At least with a book, you can put it down and come back to it once you’ve rebuilt your fortitude. The play, however, has absolutely no light to counter its shade. There’s something compelling about the imperfect bonds between the core four characters – evidenced by the tote-bag-carrying cult that’s sprung up around them. I was on the fence about the book – while it does dwell on the details of Jude’s torment to an uncomfortable degree, it also has some thoughtful meditation on love and friendship.
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