Review: ‘Next to Normal’ Is Back, With Extra Pathos

A mind in torment is making for some terrific theater at the moment in London, where the Pulitzer Prize-winning musical “Next to Normal” is belatedly having its British debut 14 years after it opened to acclaim on Broadway. The local premiere at the intimate but important Donmar Warehouse runs through Oct. 7, and this engagement looks unlikely to be its last.

In between its Broadway run and now, the show has been seen in an immersive production in Barcelona and its composer, Tom Kitt, has written a handful of other Broadway musicals.

But as staged afresh in London under the astute eye of the director Michael Longhurst, “Next to Normal,” a portrait of a woman in psychic turmoil, has a renewed sting.

Longhurst is soon to depart his post as artistic director of the Donmar (Timothy Sheader takes over the job next year) so is easing his way out on a high. In casting “Next to Normal,” he has plucked a supporting performer, Caissie Levy, from his lauded 2021 Broadway revival of “Caroline, or Change” to inherit from the Tony winner Alice Ripley the demanding lead role of Diana Goodman, a bipolar wife and mother whom we witness in accelerating degrees of distress. The result is transformative: Whereas the show I recall in New York (with a different cast) was commanding but chilly, this version owes its extra pathos to Levy’s innate warmth: You feel for Diana at every step, even as you fear where her wayward emotions may lead her next.

A Broadway alumna of “Hair” and “Frozen,” Levy from the start pulls you into her character’s increasing confusion. We see at the outset the difficulty Diana faces in simply making sandwiches, the bread laid out before her as if as if this routine domestic task were an unusual challenge.

From there, the musical darkens to embrace shock therapy, attempted suicide and multiple hallucinations, the specifics of which are best left unrevealed. Some may chafe at the cumulative effect of a through-sung musical that lets neither its characters nor its audience off the hook; we witness Diana’s reluctant surrender to electroconvulsive therapy, followed by memory loss that further amplifies her trauma.

Some may flinch at the unyielding nature of the despair that unfolds, but those attuned to its candor may emerge from the show with clarity: It’s no surprise that the final song is entitled “Light.” This musical opts not for fake sentimental uplift, but for the courage that comes from facing down mental illness, acknowledging human frailty and somehow finding a way to carry on.

Several references move the world of the show on from a decade ago. Mentions of X, formerly known as Twitter, and climate change suggest the present day, and Chloe Lamford’s sliding, bleakly antiseptic set — representing both home and hospital — exists in colorless contrast to the blood that gets spilled upon it. (The London-based American performer Trevor Dion Nicholas ably doubles as the two doctors struggling to diagnose Diana’s condition.)

Levy steers the production, her voice softening on the plaintive solo “I Miss the Mountains” before acquiring the necessary steeliness for “You Don’t Know,” Diana’s furious duet with her husband, Dan. In that role, Jamie Parker, a onetime Harry Potter on the London and Broadway stage, communicates the anguish that comes from watching a loved one slip away: The sight of him, late on, curled up in despair in the family kitchen, is among the show’s most rending.

As the couple’s musician daughter, Natalie, Eleanor Worthington-Cox brings some serious pipes to the part of a teenager determined not to follow in her mother’s fraught emotional path. Jack Ofrecio is properly sympathetic as her boyfriend, a good-natured stoner who attempts to keep Natalie from her own psychological free fall.

And the production boasts a genuine breakout star in the fresh-faced Jack Wolfe, who seizes the role of the antic son, Gabe, and brings a darting sense of danger whenever he appears on the two-tiered stage. (The music director Nick Barstow’s expert band is positioned above the action, obscured now and again by screens that suggest a clouded mind.)

In superb voice, Wolfe has an electrifying talent that more than matches Levy’s own, and when he rocks out on the character’s solo number “I’m Alive” — Gabe’s searing anthem of self-assertion — it feels as if there’s no more vital theatrical place to be.

Next to Normal

Through Oct. 7 at the Donmar Warehouse, in London; donmarwarehouse.com.