David Grindley's 75th anniversary production of Journey's End is now in its second year and fourth venue in the West End, complete with a new cast - and none of the poignant tragedy of the drama has been lost in transfer.

RC Sheriff's classic, based on his own experience in the trenches, follows a group of officers positioned behind British lines at St Quentin, France, awaiting their fate before a massive German offensive - an event which saw the deaths of 38,000 men.

The most striking element of this play is the silence. Several characters comment on how quiet it is in the trenches. The tension of just waiting for something to happen is superbly evoked by the ensemble cast, who (between sharply delivered bursts of dialogue) are comfortable enough in their roles to hold the stage alone in silent thought – an effective device which allows the audience a chance to reflect simultaneously on the futility of war. As fresh-faced 18-year-old 2nd Lieutenant Raleigh (a gripping performance from Tom Payne, making his professional theatre debut) comments, "It all seems rather silly, doesn't it?"

The human quality of the drama is brought home by the individuality of well-developed characters, all of whom have their own personalities and anxieties. It's often the more personal touches which really make an impact - such as the way young Raleigh idolises Captain Stanhope (compellingly played with power and authority, but also a hint of vulnerability, by Ben Righton) because they were at school together and Stanhope was "one of the big chaps" being three years older; and the way the young company members look to Lieutenant Osborne (a touching performance by Michael Siberry) as a father-figure.

For all the seriousness, though, there's plenty of humour as the men keep their spirits up by trying not to think about the gravity of their situation. This serves to emphasise the fact these soldiers are men - men with homes and families, and the hope of a future when the war ends. The humour also creates a balance between comedy and tragedy that makes the drama bearable for the audience to witness.

But it is the very end of the play which packs the biggest punch. The deafening sound of machine gun fire and explosives resonate around the auditorium as the curtain descends in darkness, before being brought up to reveal the cast standing absolutely still in front of a memorial, with bright light and the sound of birdsong. The audience may want to applaud the cast's efforts, but the overwhelming quiet does not allow a sound.

Whatsonstage.com - Caroline Ansdell

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