There is undoubtedly something exciting about the idea of bringing Trainspotting to the stage. Danny Boyle’s film and Irvine Welsh’s novel remain such defining pieces of British culture that, on paper, a theatrical adaptation feels like a natural fit. The foundations are all there. Unfortunately, while this production has moments that genuinely work, it never quite decides what it wants to be, leaving a show that feels caught between a play with music and a full-scale musical.

Before anything else, the biggest praise has to go to Kieran Andrew, whose performance was the standout of the evening. He commands the stage from the moment he appears, delivering a portrayal that I could feel genuinely captivated the audience. Alongside him, the entire cast deserve enormous credit. Their commitment and relentless energy carry the production through its weaker moments, and you never once feel like the company aren’t giving everything they have. They fill the Haymarket with the intensity and pace the story demands, even when the material itself struggles to keep up.

Ironically, I found myself enjoying Trainspotting most when it remembered it was a play supported by music rather than trying to become a traditional musical. Moments like Mad World in Act Two beautifully supported Tommy’s story, enhancing the emotion without ever interrupting it. The production’s use of songs from the era and tracks associated with the film generally helped move the narrative forward.

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for most of the original score.

Rather than deepening the story, many of the new songs bring it to a halt. They often feel overlong, tonally disconnected and strangely self-aware, with one character even questioning why they’re singing at all. While clearly intended as a joke, it ended up reflecting exactly what many of us in the audience were thinking. It almost felt as though the show itself lacked confidence in its own musical identity. It tries to balance being both a jukebox musical and an original musical, but those two ideas rarely sit comfortably together. Whenever it leaned into a grittier, more American Idiot-style approach, I found myself genuinely invested. Sadly, those moments were too few and far between.

My biggest issue, however, lies in what these songs replace.

One of the most powerful aspects of the film is how it allows us to experience addiction alongside the characters. When someone takes heroin, the film doesn’t simply tell us they’re high—it immerses us in the euphoria. Through its cinematography and visual language, we see what addiction is doing to their minds while their bodies remain almost lifeless, trapped in that sloth-like state. We begin to understand, however uncomfortably, why they keep going back.

The musical replaces many of these moments with songs.

The problem is that the actors are still physically portraying the effects of heroin. Their bodies remain sluggish, heavy and detached, but because they’re now singing instead of allowing us into their minds, the songs themselves feel slow and lethargic rather than euphoric. Instead of helping us understand the addiction, they create distance between the audience and the characters.

This frustration is only heightened by the production’s huge LED screens, which feel vastly underused. They had the opportunity to transport us inside the characters’ minds and recreate the surreal highs that made the film so visually unforgettable. Instead, we’re largely left watching what addiction does to the body rather than experiencing what it does to the mind. The screens become more prominent in Act Two, but they still never fully realise that potential.

The pacing also works against the production.

Trainspotting is an enormous story, packed with characters, each battling their own demons. Compressing all of that into one musical means many storylines feel rushed or incomplete. Characters disappear for long stretches before suddenly reappearing with life-changing developments explained away in a single line. One particularly frustrating example is Mark’s addiction. We spend one scene watching him spiral before, not long afterwards, he casually informs us that he’s clean. Moments that should feel monumental are brushed past without giving either the audience or the characters the time they deserve.

That becomes an even bigger issue because the show frequently pauses these already underdeveloped storylines for large ensemble numbers. With so many characters all facing completely different struggles, it often feels strange watching everyone suddenly sing the same thoughts and emotions at the same time. Instead of bringing the stories together, these numbers often interrupt them.

Perhaps the moment that best sums up my frustrations is Alison’s baby. One of the darkest and most devastating moments in the story is almost pushed into the background, delivered in near darkness before the production quickly moves on and launches into another ensemble number. It feels as though the show is constantly aware of how uncomfortable these moments are and chooses to move past them rather than sitting in them. Yet those uncomfortable moments are exactly what give Trainspotting its emotional weight.

I’ve started noticing a similar pattern in several recent British productions tackling working-class stories, including Punch, Standing at the Sky’s Edge and now Trainspotting. These shows deal with addiction, poverty, trauma and working-class life, yet often feel as though they’ve been rushed to the West End before the writing has had the chance to fully mature. For many people buying tickets, this isn’t a world they’ve experienced first-hand. That makes it even more important that these productions fully commit to the realities they’re portraying rather than softening them or racing through them.

These aren’t just dramatic plot points; they’re real lives and communities. They deserve time, honesty and care.

There is absolutely the makings of a brilliant stage adaptation here. The cast throw themselves into every moment, with Kieran Andrew delivering a genuinely standout performance, and the energy on stage rarely drops. But for me, Trainspotting works far better as a play with music than as the musical it currently wants to be. The existing songs deepen the story, while too much of the original score slows it down. Combined with rushed character arcs and emotional moments that never quite have the chance to land, the production feels like it still needs another stage of development before truly earning its place in the West End.

I left the theatre admiring the cast far more than the show itself.

⭐️⭐️