Review of Goldfish, Bridewell Theatre

Sarah

16 minutes ago

3 min read

★★

Boy in striped nightshirt and suited man sit on a bed on a dark stage, looking solemn. — Photo credit yawning Dog Productions

There are plays that grab you from the opening scene and refuse to let go. Sadly, Goldfish at the Bridewell Theatre was not one of them.

Nina Beck's new drama Goldfish arrives at the Bridewell Theatre with a fascinating premise. Set in Alaska at the tail end of the Klondike Gold Rush, it centres on real-life conman Jefferson "Soapy" Smith, his desperately ill young son, and a fish that may, or may not, hold the key to a miracle. On paper it sounds wonderfully strange. In practice, despite some striking visuals and committed performances, I struggled to connect with either the story or most of its characters.

One thing that immediately impresses is the scale of the production. A cast of nine is unusually large for this size of venue and the company certainly work hard to create a fully realised world. The ensemble bring energy and movement to the piece, while the costumes do an excellent job of transporting us to the closing years of the nineteenth century. From heavy coats to practical frontier wear, every character looked as though they had stepped out of a faded photograph from the era.

The production's strongest asset, however, was undoubtedly the fish.

Yes, really.

The appearance of the goldfish in its tank brought a welcome sense of mystery and possibility. In a play asking us to suspend disbelief, that small splash of theatrical magic became the element I was most invested in. I found myself eagerly watching for its next appearance and wondering where its story might lead.

Unfortunately, that is where some of my confusion began.

The play introduces the idea that a young girl has been pulled from a freezing river clutching a salmon. At some point the symbolism, or perhaps reality, of the fish appears to shift, but I never fully understood what was happening. Was the goldfish supposed to have become the salmon? Was this the point at which it stopped communicating? Was the transformation literal, metaphorical, or simply part of the play's fable-like world? I came away unsure, and not in a satisfying way.

For a while I thought the play might lean into the absurdity of its premise. The combination of criminal gangsters, miraculous fish and desperate townsfolk felt ripe for dark comedy. I even wondered whether we were heading towards Betty Blue Eyes territory. Yet the script remains determinedly serious throughout. Personally, I think a little more humour might have helped. Not enough to turn it into farce, but enough to acknowledge just how unusual the central idea actually is.

The biggest problem for me was the character of Soapy himself. We are told he is a notorious criminal, but what we see is overwhelmingly a loving and devoted father trying to save his son. While that makes him sympathetic, it also removes much of the danger. I never felt genuinely fearful of him, nor sensed the menace that should perhaps accompany a legendary conman. The balance felt weighted too heavily towards redemption and not enough towards threat.

There were also intriguing story threads left largely unexplored. The return of William's mother raises all sorts of fascinating questions. We learn she has rebuilt her life, becoming a respected scientist with a PhD, but the play never really examines how she achieved this transformation. Given the historical setting, that felt like a story worth telling.

Despite admiring its ambition and craftsmanship, I was never emotionally drawn into the drama. The only character whose fate genuinely mattered to me was young William. When the final scenes arrived, I realised I had spent more time admiring individual ideas than caring about the outcome.

An interesting theatrical experiment, beautifully costumed and imaginatively staged, but one that ultimately left me watching from a distance rather than drawing me in.