Joseph Fiennes (Gareth Southgate). Photo: Marc Brenner

Dear England by James Graham – National Theatre: Olivier

James Graham’s eye for a story is legendary, and Dear England is the latest example of his ability to make theatre from current events that seem impossible to dramatise. In the case of Gareth Southgate’s England team, the subject of this play, surely we also already know all about it. How can there be new drama to uncover from the most scrutinised role in Britain apart, perhaps, from that of the Prime Minister? Graham, director Rupert Goold and movement directors Ellen Kane and Hans Landgoff conjure something surprisingly and engrossing, and succeed in holding a mirror up to society in a way that dramatists find exceedingly difficult to achieve.

Movement is the key to staging a story that revolves around games of football that can’t, essentially, be show. The England team are constantly moving, interacting, cutting shapes and reflecting the themes of togetherness and mutual support in their stage presence. It works brilliantly, to the extent that I entirely forgot we were in the often cavernous Olivier Theatre. Goold’s team conquers the space with aplomb, backed by a simple set from Es Devlin of neon circles that define the space, and lockers that loosen its configuration. The task of playing people who are both famous and very much alive is also tackled with aplomb. The cast is universally excellent, with special mentions for Adam Hugill, who has a lot of fun with Harry Kane’s infamously deadpan delivery; Gunnar Cauthery who plays a remarkable quartet of roles as Gary Lineker, Sven Goran Eriksson, Boris Johnson and Wayne Rooney; Sean Gilder, who plays Sam Allardyce, Fabio Capello and Physio Phil and showcases some smooth dance skills; and Kei Matsena as a sceptical Raheem Sterling. But everyone is good – Josh Barrow as Jordan Pickford, Ebenezer Gyau as Bukayo Saka, Ryan Whittle as Eric Dier, John Hodgkinson as Greg Clarke/Gianni Infantino/Matt Le Tissier, Lewis Shepherd as Delle Alli, Darragh Hand as Marcus Rashford. The ensemble is a pleasure to watch as they bring the spiky dressing room dynamics to life.

The stars of the show are Joseph Fiennes, who seems weirdly born to play Southgate. He is entirely convincing as the manager who wants to bring humanity, respect and shared feelings to the team as a way to reflect and enable a changing society. His trademark is sincerity, never able to quite forget his career defining England penalty miss, and Graham makes an intriguing case for him as an under-the-radar pioneer and something of a hero. He is supported in his work by psychologist Pippa Grange, fighting and overcoming sexism and doubt, a role for which Gina McKee is also perfect.

Graham treads a tightrope by fictionalising current lives, but he writes with responsibility and manages to deliver a drama that treats its subjects with respect, except the few that don’t deserve it. The only characters to come out of the play with their reputations reduced are former FA Chairman Greg Clarke, who resigned in 2020 after make a series of racist comments in, of all places, a DCMS Select Committee hearing, born-again conspiracy theorist Le Tissier and Sam Allardyce, who can have no complaints. Graham is clearly fascinated by the tensions of squaring a philosophy that winning is not everything with the pressure to win, which never goes away. Since Southgate adopted a different approach to high-level sport management, the England cricket team has taken up the same attitudes. It’s all about entertainment and if you trust yourself, the results will come. We will find out soon whether the media and the public will lose patience, or whether the revolution can be sustained.