EQUUS

By Diana Simmonds

August 31 2026

EQUUS, Daniel Cottier Productions at bAKEHOUSE Theatre at KXT on Broadway, 21 August-5 September 2026. Photography: Daniel Boud

A nation of horse lovers and punters was still abuzz after Red Rum ran his fabled Grand National, and first of three wins, in March 1973, then Peter Shaffer’s Equus opened on the West End in July. It could hardly have shocked the British public more. A boy blinding six horses and sent to a shrink rather than banged up for life was heavy stuff for theatre-goers.

It’s hardly less shocking today. People don’t take kindly to animal cruelty. Meanwhile, cruelty to children and their mothers happens daily, as does cruelty to those who don’t fit the conventions of beauty. It’s what director Brockman has chosen to draw from Equus, a play that has long fascinated him.

The assumption, in previous productions, is that the boy, Alan Strang, is beautiful in ways instantly recognisable by polite society. And Ryan Yeates is certainly that: slim, perfect, creamy skin and a face to launch a thousand ships. The horses – including Nugget, the one that Alan worships – are another matter. In describing himself, in his director’s notes, as growing up fat and queer, with all the social consequences that often brings, Brockman wanted to present it to an audience for their self-assessment in a casting decision that turns taboos inside out. And it’s confronting.

Nugget is played with no concession to the equine by Shalamah Tautaiolefue. They are, in today’s parlance, a person in a larger body. In medical terminology: morbidly obese. And it’s terrifying to witness – in terms of caring about their future health. Nevertheless, they are conventionally beautiful of visage, and when they slowly dance through the play’s opening and beyond (movement director Jeremy Lloyd), their exquisite hand movements resemble those of a Balinese temple dancer. The dichotomy is intense. It’s a depiction that flushes out contemporary custom and prejudice when it comes to race and gender, and of course, size. It’s insufficient to have Alan worship a simple horse, which is barely a thing these days anyway, so we must consider our feelings and levels of acceptance when it comes to The Other – whichever Other we might be inwardly contemplating.

It’s a tribute to the strength of the play and the rest of the cast, particularly J. James-Moody and Linda Nicholls-Gidley, that loss of balance isn’t the consequence of Nugget’s overpowering presence. Happily, as Alan’s psych, Dr Dysart, James-Moody is a wily presence. He’s fascinated and determined to crack the code to Alan’s actions. He’s also almost as unhappy as the boy, so exploring his complexities, as they become apparent, is absorbing.

Dysart has Alan dropped in his professional lap by a colleague and friend, the magistrate Hesther Saloman (Nicholls-Gidley). She’s reluctant to simply incarcerate the youth despite the outcry his crimes have caused. She’s the éminence grise of the night and a riveting presence.

As Dysart delves deeper into Alan’s short life, he talks to his parents. Dora (Sophie Strang) wraps a grey cardigan tightly around her devout body, crucifix twinkling at her throat. Reading daily Bible passages to her son has been crucial to her parenting. Husband Frank (Gus Murray) is a declared atheist. He also has a violent temper at the heart of his frustrations. He’s a printer; Dora married down. As specimens of the lower middle class, they are wretchedly excellent.

Ironically, the unwitting catalyst for all that befalls Alan and those around him is Jill Mason (Cloud Fernandez-Montoya), a character often lumbered with the description “a free-spirited young woman.” In this instance, it’s easy to see how this spirit gets Alan tangled in his sexual repression and dark desires, with results already described.

Over two hours and 30 minutes (including interval), the unspeakable and the unbelievable are said and occur. Psychic depths are plumbed, and through Ryan Yeates’ superb performance and Brockman’s economical and dramatic set and lighting, the production is entirely engrossing. Together with Milo McLaughlin’s bold sound design and composition, and Dr Emily Brayshaw’s time- and place-setting costumes, this Equus is one for the ages. Don’t miss it.