Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird
Written by Aaron Sorkin
Directed by Bartlett Sher
Leicester Curve, Tues 28th October 2025
Aaron Sorkin’s adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird, directed by Bartlett Sher, is not simply a retelling of Harper Lee’s classic novel, but a re-examination designed for the 21st century. This production delivers a theatrical experience both reverent and revolutionary, and honours the Harper Lee classic, written during the height of the American Civil Rights movement, not by preserving the story in amber, but by cracking it open and letting it breathe.
Set in 1930s Alabama, To Kill a Mockingbird follows lawyer Atticus Finch (Richard Coyle) as he defends Tom Robinson (Aaron Shosanya), a black man falsely accused of attacking and raping a white woman, Mayella Ewell (Evie Hargreaves). The story is framed through the eyes of Atticus’s children, Scout (Anna Munden) and Jem (Gabriel Scott), and their friend Dill (Dylan Malyn), who serve as both narrators and participants, offering a vibrant and reflective lens on the events unfolding around them. Alongside the courtroom drama, the children’s fascination with their reclusive neighbour Boo Radley (Harry Atwell) evolves into a poignant subplot about empathy, fear, and the human capacity for kindness. As the trial exposes the deep racial injustices of the Jim Crow South, the children grapple with the loss of innocence and the complexities of morality.
Where Harper Lee’s novel filters the story through the retrospective voice of an adult Scout, Sorkin’s adaptation places the children directly in the action, allowing them to narrate, reflect, and participate in real time. This choice brings a dynamic immediacy to the play, and the performances elevate it further. Munden shines as Scout, offering a portrayal that is entirely believable as a child – never slipping into impersonation or caricature, but instead grounding the role in emotional truth. Scott’s Jem is compelling as a boy on the cusp of adulthood, torn between the innocence of childhood and the harsh realities of the adult world. Malyn’s Dill provides comic relief with charm and wit, yet carries a quiet heaviness that surfaces in a touching scene of his own. Together, their voices form a chorus of conscience. Dill’s line, “I’m not just a narrator now, but also part of the narrative,” becomes a thesis for the adaptation itself, refusing to let it settle into nostalgia.
The production’s set design (Miriam Buether) is equally transformative. The set evokes a derelict industrial space of a warehouse with smashed windows suggesting a community broken by poverty and prejudice, but within that shell the space is continually transformed before our eyes – trucks glide across the stage, manipulated by the cast to shift scenes from courtroom to porch; church to garden. These transitions are executed with such precision and fluidity that the three-hour run time feels fleeting. The movement of the set becomes part of the storytelling, as a choreography of change and the ensemble and set work seamlessly together to keep things moving.
The costumes (Ann Roth) working alongside the set, are richly detailed and deeply evocative, anchoring the characters in their time and place while subtly revealing aspects of their identity. Scout’s dungarees signal her resistance to traditional femininity while Finch’s crisp suit reflects his education and status setting him apart from the townspeople around him. The clothing worn by the cooks, gardeners, and cleaners is simple and worn, suggesting lives shaped by labour and routine, while Mrs Henry Dubose (Sarah Finigan), draped in a heavy shawl, seems almost entombed by her own bitterness and frailty, all helping to shape the emotional landscape of the play.
In terms of performances, the entire ensemble shine, but alongside Munden, it is Richard Coyle’s Atticus Finch who does the heavy lifting. His portrayal is quietly commanding and deeply human, resisting the temptation to play Atticus as a flawless moral hero; Sorkin’s script helps here, as we are given a man who is principled but weary and conflicted.
But the cast around him is equally strong. Andrea Davey’s Calpurnia – a role expanded in this version – brings a grounded, watchful presence to the Finch household as a figure of quiet authority who challenges the very foundations of Atticus’ character. Her performance reveals a woman who sees the limits of Atticus’s idealism, reminding him that offering respect to those who perpetuate hatred is not neutrality, but complicity, while Shosanya’s Tom Robinson is heartbreakingly dignified, his quiet strength making the injustice he suffers all the more unbearable, particularly in the second act when he gets his moment in court. Oscar Pearce is chilling as Bob Ewell, and Evie Hargreaves erupts as Mayella, offering such nuance that it seems as though she is going to break and support Tom Robinson at various points, but she never concedes. Equally compelling are Simon Hepworth’s Link Deas and Stephen Boxer’s Judge Taylor, who along with the whole cast contribute to a world that feels lived-in and layered.
What makes this adaptation so powerful is its refusal to soften the brutality of the Jim Crow era. The racism depicted isn’t abstract or historical but systemic and codified in law. The courtroom becomes a crucible where the illusion of justice is shattered, and the audience is forced to confront the reality that Tom Robinson’s fate was sealed long before the trial began.
This is where the adaptation’s starkness hits hardest. The added scene between Bob Ewell and Atticus Finch (a confrontation which they do not get afforded in the novel) in which Bob warns Atticus to worry about the survival of his race, is chilling. Atticus’s quiet reply “I’m not worried. It’s survived so far” is a moment that exposes the enduring nature of white supremacy, not just as a social attitude but as a structural force. In light of contemporary political rhetoric, the scene feels disturbingly familiar. It reminds us that the sentiments of Jim Crow didn’t vanish but evolve and persist. In the wake of recent controversies — such as the remarks by Reform MP Sarah Pochin about over-representation in advertising, this addition feels not only timely but necessary. It’s a reminder that the play is not just about history; it’s about now.
This Mockingbird doesn’t just adapt a beloved novel, but it interrogates it and asks what justice looks like, who gets to tell the story, and whether we’ve learned anything at all. It’s theatre that refuses to settle for comfort, and instead demands clarity, courage, and conversation. A stunning piece of theatre that should be seen and heard loudly.
