Five star review of Chariots of Fire at the Crucible, Sheffield

Here we have the swansong from Robert Hastie, artistic director of Sheffield Theatres who is moving on after eight years in post. A revival of the stage version of a movie created over forty years ago, it tells the story of some athletes who irrevocably altered the world of sport. Without him, the Crucible production of Mike Bartlett’s play would be admirable, with Hastie at the helm, it is transfigured.

In his hands, we can see a play that is full of polemical drama basing its appeal in argument, and documentary drama, which bases its appeal in and on truth. The resolution is known by nearly all, but the power of authenticity makes for a sensational night in the theatre.

Try, then, to erase all memories of the film from your mind. The narrative may be very much the same (for it is of course based on a true story), but the telling of it is light-years apart. Bartlett’s account (based on Colin Welland’s perfectly balanced screenplay) has a special kind of very British romantic stoicism, which is not pale nor scented with nostalgia, but earthy and robust. And, given the times we live in, and the approach of this year’s own Olympics (then, in 1924, as today, in Paris) we can also marvel, and shudder, at the number of parallels, between then and now.

From the start – and for every member of the cast – it’s a barnstorming display of physical agility. They run, they skip, they spar, and their pace is unrelenting. The words “physical agility”, don’t even begin to cover the experience. You leave the auditorium feeling drained of energy.

At its core, we have a conflict of values, ambitions and aspirations – not just from the athletes on (and off) the track – but also from their masters, the grandees of the Cambridge colleges at which they (occasionally) study.

Two of the most engaging cameos come from Mark Lockyer as the Master of Trinity, and Richard Cant, the Master of Caius, men completely desiccated of ideas, upholders of their unalienable superiority over the rest of humanity, and (one suspects) both born with a permanent sneer on their faces. And another, on stage for just a few minutes, is Leo Wan’s offering of an ever-so-slightly befuddled butler. It’s a beautiful moment of stagecraft and observation.

Adam Bregman (as Harold Abrahams) and Michale Wallace (as Eric Liddell) both deliver impassioned performances, broken with musing and introspection, they move from the ever-so-slightly gung-ho to internal sincerity, with a dexterity that marks them out as ones to watch in coming years. Ben Stones has to take a well-earned bow for his set and costumes, and the sound designer is the invaluable Alexandra Faye Braithwaite. Entertaining, empowering, exhilarating, this is as close to theatrical perfection as you will get this year.

To July 27.