Hansard - Lace Market Theatre Review

★★★★☆

Dennis Kelly’s Hansard at Lace Market Theatre, Nottingham, is a sharply observed, politically charged two-hander that turns a domestic space into a battleground. With such a hefty script, how does this amateur production balance intimate realism with the weight of its argument?

Melanie Hamilton as Diana. Photo Credit: Kathryn Edwards

Set during a single afternoon in May 1988, the play follows Tory MP Robin and his wife Diana through a deceptively ordinary day at home. Beneath the surface of casual conversation simmers a volatile clash of politics and personal history, centred on Robin’s support of Section 28, Diana’s more liberal views on homosexuality, and how their son fits into this world. What begins as teasing marital banter quickly becomes something more dangerous, as old arguments resurface and the couple’s shared past is dissected with bitter precision.

What makes this production so compelling is its refusal to flatten the argument into a right-versus-wrong. Instead, it leans into the discomfort of perspective. Both Robin and Diana operate from deeply held beliefs, and while the audience may instinctively align with one over the other, the play insists on showing how those beliefs are formed, defended, and weaponised. It becomes less about who is correct and more about how ideology reshapes their relationship from the inside out.

Melanie Hamilton’s Diana is magnetic, not in a showy, scene-stealing way, but in the precision of her choices. She understands that Diana’s power lies in her unpredictability. She imbues the character with childish mischief and calculated provocation. Her quirky asides are not throwaway moments; they are tactical, used to destabilise Robin and gain control of the narrative. Hamilton drives the story forward with ease. You’re not watching an actor deliver lines, you’re watching a woman who has spent years perfecting the art of needling her husband.

Opposite her, Charles Moss crafts a Robin that is recognisable without tipping into caricature. His physicality and voice do much of the work, giving him the faint air of entitlement you’d expect from a Conservative MP. You understand who this man is before he even talks politics. Early on, Robin’s arguments feel like rehearsed party lines, but as the play progresses, they become more personal, more defensive, until the mask slips entirely. It’s in these latter moments that the production finds its sharpest edge.

Melanie Hamilton (Diana) and Charles Moss (Robin). Photo Credit: Kathryn Edwards.

Director Trev Clarke’s most effective choice is to adopt a Meisner-like approach for the production. Whether it’s setting up an old projector, mixing a drink, or absent-mindedly arranging flowers, the characters always have an independent activity. These actions give the actors a lived-in authenticity that prevents the script from feeling like a lecture.

The in-the-round staging really helps the fly-on-the-wall realism. With the audience encircling a central dining table cluttered with newspapers and files, there’s a sense that we are intruding on something private. Angus Macrae and Lesley Brown’s design resists theatrical flourish in favour of believability. The production knows its strength lies in its language and characters, not its spectacle.

That said, there are moments when the production leans more into one character’s arguments and humour than the other's, creating a political imbalance rather than a level playing field. These choices clearly resonate with the Lace Market Theatre’s Nottingham-centred audience, who aren’t Thatcherites, making Diana the more powerful character. It’s not necessarily a negative to pander to your audience, but it does mean that some of Robin’s moments can feel like stated arguments rather than emotionally embodied. 

For me, the script itself has a reliance on outdated gay stereotypes. References to AIDS, cross-dressing, and coded assumptions about sexuality feel tired, even within the context of the 1980s. While the historical setting justifies certain themes, the shorthand used to signify homosexuality (Someone is assumed gay because they know about fabric, and comes out by dressing up as a woman) lacks the nuance found elsewhere in the script. It’s a rare moment where the play’s otherwise intelligent exploration of perspective slips into something more reductive. Importantly, this is a limitation of the writing rather than the production, but it does impact how those moments land with a contemporary audience.

Hansard at Lace Market Theatre is a confident, intelligent piece of theatre that trusts its audience to engage with complexity. It doesn’t offer easy answers, nor does it try to. Instead, it presents a marriage in all its messy, contradictory detail. The unravelling of Robin and Diana’s marriage is handled with care and clarity, shifting from playful sparring to something far more brittle and revealing. Powered by two finely tuned performances and a direction that prioritises truth over theatrics, this is a production that proves you don’t need spectacle to hold an audience, just something worth listening to. In the end, Lace Market Theatre ensures this Hansard isn’t just recorded, it’s heard.