Cloud 9 | National Theatre | ★★★☆☆

First staged in 1979, Caryl Churchill’s Cloud 9 was once considered a sensational, salacious and provocative piece of theatre. Nearly 50 years later, Dominic Cooke’s National Theatre revival doesn’t pack the same punch.

It’s a play of two halves, both in structure and setting. The first act takes place in Victorian colonial Africa, opening with the cast singing an imperial anthem before patriarch Clive (Sam Troughton) introduces his family. Wife Betty, children Edward and Victoria, governess Ellen, mother-in-law Maud and servant Joshua all exist under his strict patriarchal rule. Sexual repression, gender conformity and racism are the order of the day. There isn’t much in the way of conventional plot; instead, we see the family romp through a series of interactions with one another. It’s satirical and slapstick, but disturbing, too.

The second act leaps forward to “present day” 1979, though the characters only age 25 years. Watching it in 2026, we are almost as far removed from the era of the second act as Churchill was from the first when she wrote the play. Naturally, then, many of its observations have lost their cutting edge.

What has aged badly in Caryl Churchill’s Cloud 9

Some aspects of the production have inevitably evolved; Joshua, Clive’s black servant, was originally written for a white actor but is now portrayed (brilliantly) by Eloka Ivo. But other elements feel awkwardly outdated. The play’s treatment of topics such as incest or corporal punishment of children reflects a 1970s permissive outlook that’s at odds with the rest of the progressive piece.

Whatever its inconsistencies, the production is carried by a wildly versatile cast and the whole thing serves as something of an actor’s showcase. It’s a technical feat by Rebecca Humphries in particular, who plays both the repressed governess Ellen and the liberated family friend Mrs Saunders in act one, only to return unrecognisable as the edgy Lin in act two. Likewise, having spent the first act playing nine-year-old Edward, Ellen Robertson stands out in the second act as the older, divorced Betty, delivering a particularly stirring monologue about marriage and liberation. While ironic and amusing, the cross-casting does read as a little on the nose when the patriarchal colonialist Clive later plays demanding toddler Cathy (an entertaining and crowd-pleasing switch-up by Troughton).

Miriam Buether’s stage design is a visual spectacle. So much so that any stragglers still in their seats during the interval are gently ushered out to make way for an elaborate set change. What Buether does with the second half is interesting and unnerving, not least because the audience spends it under the exposing glare of the house lights.

Cloud 9 at the National Theatre: A fascinating historical piece more than a play for today

At 88 years old, Churchill is still going strong as one of our greatest living playwrights. Her oeuvre has consistently demonstrated a great skill for responding to our time, but this revival doesn’t make the case for Cloud 9 as a play for today. That doesn’t lessen its importance – much of the intersectional gender, sexual and racial dynamics are still relevant – but overall makes it feel more like a fascinating historical piece than a work of theatre offering a fresh perspective.

In contrast, Churchill’s latest satire Triumph debuted at the Almeida earlier this year, about the blonde press secretary of an unnamed American president. Triumph had a lot more to say in its 15-minute run time than this revival does in nearly three hours. If you missed it, fear not: more of Churchill’s new short plays are to be staged at the Almeida next year as part of Dominic Cooke’s first season as artistic director (he’s evidently a fan). I expect those will be as powerful now as Cloud 9 was then.