Creditors was written in 1888. I did not know this very simple piece of information when I sat down to watch Crazy Child Productions’ adaptation. That it came as that much of a surprise to me is an absolute credit to the work they’ve put in to modernise it, in what marks a strong opening to the company’s 25/26 run.
It was also very welcome to see that Oxford is still capable of putting on shows that just start, without some kind of metatheatrical pre-show. (Creditors is the first of the six shows I’ve seen or played in this term to avoid this student theatre trope.) This also marks the first time I’ve seen the Burton Taylor’s seating rearranged, into a thrust stage; I have to say, it was genuinely eye-opening to see how much more space the production had to work with as a result. It did cause a bit of a squeeze around the exits (and I can only apologise for the contribution my poorly-placed bag made to that), but the more relaxed viewing atmosphere was definitely worth it.
And to conclude the theme of firsts, it’s worth saying that Creditors also sees three cast debuts from George Robson (Harry), Matilda Beloou (Sophie), and Eden Smith (Beatrice). The trio form a strong ensemble, although it is only at the play’s very end that we see them all together. Strindberg’s play is instead centred around the pairings within that constellation, with each couple essentially getting a scene to themselves: first Sophie and Beatrice; then Harry and Sophie; finally, Harry and Beatrice.
That order is significant. We find ourselves in Disneyworld, as signalled by the slightly eclectic soundtrack playing as the audience takes their seats. Harry is on a work trip in Paris, and has taken his second wife Sophie along for the ride. Yet, in a nicely staged silent prologue, she bumps into Beatrice, who, while Harry is away, starts to poke at the marital bond between them. As we learn over the course of the play, she has good reason to: Beatrice is Harry’s first wife, and the victim of a damning portrayal in his recently-published autobiography.
This first scene can be a confusing one for the viewer; Beatrice’s arguments double back on themselves, as she says first that Harry is too weak, then too dominating. It is her interactions with Sophie, however, that prove most illuminating. Despite the great show she makes of attempting to empower Sophie, by the scene’s end it becomes clear that her intentions are quite sinister indeed. Smith manages these transitions well, switching between the roles of therapist, bored friend, and overt threat with great fluidity. Sophie’s naivety, meanwhile, is given moments of real insight by Beloou, although the script sees her flip between emotional states a little quickly at times. The lighting is also a touch frenetic, as we switch between dimmed, spotlight, and wash seemingly on a dime, though credit must go to production manager Patryk Wisnieluski (and the rest of the tech crew) for aligning the many changes so well with their respective cues.
This scene does also showcase best how well Crazy Child Productions have modernised the material. The easy references to TikTok, SnapMaps, and the like get laughs, to be sure, but also create a nice subnarrative about the confirmation bias social media tends to inculcate in its users. The Disney setting, meanwhile, provides a good transition from marital ideal to something closer to reality, including an excellently silly first costume for Sophie (special credit to costume designer Ari Garcha for the fluffy pink slippers).
It is when Harry takes the stage, however, that the show really gets going. His performativity having been teased for the whole of the first scene, Robson does not disappoint. His looks of pained anguish and dramatic flopping onto a chaise longue pair excellently with his reading method (holding Mrs Dalloway open while scrolling) to make Harry, as the marketing material says, ‘an intensely performative male’. His interactions undoubtedly got the most laughs of the night, with particular highlights including the matcha latte with oat milk and vanilla syrup he brings on stage with him.
This character is the result of perhaps the most major choice director Magdalena L-H (alongside co-director Robson) has made in their adaptation: gender-swapping Strindberg’s original. Harry is a fantastic addition, and the source of most of the play’s comedy even in the scene he’s not present for, but I did feel that the move tended to undermine Sophie and Beatrice’s characters. Beatrice moves closer to the trope of the love-crazed woman than a man would have in the same role; Sophie’s reactions to the events playing out in front of her suggest a different manifestation of the same kind of ‘female hysteria’.
Ultimately, however, this is still an hour of very good fun. In Harry, we have an eminently modern comedic protagonist, while Beloou and Smith bring out the more timeless frustrations of relationships with a good balance of laughter and probing investigation. Even if I would quibble with aspects of the vision, there is no doubt that Crazy Child Productions have put on an admirably executed show, well worth the time to explore.
[Creditors, staged by Crazy Child Productions, is running at the Burton Taylor Studio, 25th-29th November, 2025]