The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry – Review

Last night’s press night for The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry at the Theatre Royal Haymarket confirmed what many had hoped: a genuinely moving, joyously theatrical and deeply affecting new musical that honours Rachel Joyce’s beloved novel while making its own bold, imaginative leaps. From belly laughs to quiet tears — often within minutes of each other — this production is a masterclass in balance and theatrical heart.

The staging and design are richly inventive. Samuel Wyer’s scenic concept evokes the open road without ever collapsing into literalism, offering a fluid, deceptively simple canvas of textures, props and elegant transitions that conjure countryside, towns and the long miles in between. Under Tom Jackson Greaves’s choreography, tables, chairs and modest set pieces transform into bustling villages, roadside stops and whimsical encounters, creating a world that feels constantly alive and in motion.

Puppetry plays a charming and memorable role, particularly in the scenes featuring the dog, animated with such wit and charisma that it draws delighted gasps and laughter in equal measure. It’s a small but telling touch that encapsulates the production’s inventive spirit: never showy for its own sake, always purposeful and heart-forward.

At the centre of the show is its cast, led by a quietly magnificent Mark Addy as Harold Fry. Addy brings compelling humanity to the role — stoic, awkward, hopeful, fallible and deeply endearing. His physical storytelling, as a man placing one foot in front of the other across hundreds of miles, is subtle yet arresting, while his vocal moments land with consistent honesty and emotional weight. Opposite him, Jenna Russell’s Maureen Fry is a performance of remarkable clarity and depth. Tough, tender, wryly funny and heartbreakingly vulnerable, Russell anchors the story’s emotional stakes so securely that every note she sings resonates long after the curtain falls.

Noah Mullins brings a magical, poetic quality to The Balladeer, and his interplay with Harold and the company consistently elevates sequences that might otherwise feel episodic. The ensemble — from Craig Armstrong to Maggie Service and everyone in between — shifts seamlessly between characters, lending humour, warmth and texture to each of Harold’s many encounters along the road.

One of the evening’s true showstoppers is “Keep On Walking, Mr Fry”, which transforms the simple act of continuing, step by step, into a stirring anthem of resilience, hope and human connection. It’s the kind of number that lodges itself in both head and heart, buoyed by strong, soulful vocal performances that feel deeply theatrical without tipping into excess. The score as a whole, with music and lyrics by Passenger, carries a distinctive indie-folk inflection that supports and amplifies the emotional journey rather than overwhelming it.

Crucially, this production never takes itself too seriously. A jovial warmth and playful humour are woven throughout, welcoming the audience in early before allowing the heavier emotional blows to land with devastating effectiveness. Themes of love, loss, regret, friendship and redemption are handled with care and nuance: the humour opens you up; the heartbreak hits hard. By the final bows, laughter and tears were shared freely across the auditorium — and I was very much among them.

The creative partnership of director Katy Rudd, Rachel Joyce’s adaptation, the imaginative set and lighting design, and the finely honed contributions of choreography and music direction come together to create something more than a faithful retelling. This is a theatrical evening that stands confidently on its own terms. In a West End season rich with spectacle and innovation, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry stakes its claim as one of the most genuinely touching, inventive and uplifting experiences on offer. This isn’t just a show you watch — it’s a night you feel. And whether you know the novel, the film, or neither, you’ll leave richer for having travelled in its company.

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

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