Government Inspector – The Reviews Are In!

Freya Waters – UWE Journalism Student

In an era of political and economic uncertainty, The Government Inspector is as poignant in 2025 as it was at its publication date in 1836. It’s always exciting to see a fresh adaptation of the much-loved satire, and I have to say, I enjoyed Bristol Old Vic Theatre School’s version immensely. I arrived at the Tobacco Factory on the 8th of November with high expectations that were certainly met.

A simple rustic looking frame created a box that was the stage on which the actors performed, with curtains pulled aside to reveal the scene. The smooth yet chaotic transitions of the set performed by cast members throughout the performance, alongside the audience being in the round, were excellent directorial choices that created enough metaphorical distance to serve as a reminder that what we were viewing was a complete spectacle.

With a silent scene performed as the audience took their seats, we were immediately immersed in the world of the greedy bureaucrats of this provincial Russian town. From gambling to a comically large pile of cocaine, the characterisation of these gluttonous individuals was established with efficacy. The caricatures were each executed with complete conviction, as is integral in the delivery of satire. The commitment from each actor to their character was admirable; from the simpering school master to the hunting-obsessed judge. In particular, the Mayoress, whose command of physicality and voice portrayed the ultimate corrupt leader. Similarly, her wife, who epitomised the morally bankrupt rich housewife who dreams of bigger things.

The story was told well, with the dynamic between Khlestakov and Osip providing many laughs as did the hilarious duo Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky highlighting the clear hierarchy in this town. The pacing of the delivery from every actor was in line with the absurdity of the plot and some very well rehearsed physical sequences were added that also complemented the chaos. I particularly enjoyed the stark contrast between Khlestakov’s style of speech and the Mayoress’, as it reinforced the ridiculous nature of the Mayoress as a character in comparison to the fairly ‘normal’ man that Khlestakov is.

The ending was perfect; a complete breakdown of any decorum that the characters were clinging onto. An animalistic display of pure corruption that was performed skillfully by all.

It’s worth a watch. The crude humour and innuendos will have you giggling like a naughty school child while also reflecting on how these caricatures bear a striking resemblance to people in power throughout history and to this day.

Kris Hallett – Life As Theatre Blog

Original article found here

Chekhov, Michael, not Anton, was Stanislavski’s brightest star until he broke orbit. Out went the microscope of psychological realism; in came imagination, atmosphere, and the actor’s body as a tuning fork for the soul. His psycho-physical method, those sweeping psychological gestures, feels made for Gogol’s The Government Inspector a play that showcased his genius: a carnival of corruption, a masquerade of panic, a satire that grins as it bites.

This is a production that feels steeped in Chekhov’s influence. John Young leans into the grotesque with Harrower’s adaptation, and mostly swims. Why? Because this graduating class of 2026 can handle the current. Recently, at the BOV, Private Lives tried something similar and drowned—actors flailing in a style they couldn’t breathe. Here, there’s oxygen. There’s craft beneath the colour. Relief, thy name is technique.

The town’s dignitaries are a harlequinade of greed, strutting like peacocks in borrowed plumes. Danielle Stevenson flips the mayor’s gender and plays her with Celtic steel, voice hardening as ambition blooms. Daisy Graceson, as the mayor’s wife, purrs every syllable like smoke curling from a cigarette, every syllable a seduction. Alfie Morton’s judge is pure “Hooray Henry,” while Dylan McLane, Violet Harvey, Albi Dawkins, Mirrelle Gipson, and Olivia Carville sketch their grotesques with bold, black strokes.

Charlie Oswin’s Khlestakov,the fraud mistaken for the inspector, almost plays it straight, which works. He cajoles, teases, seduces, while Diya Vencatasawmy, as the mayor’s daughter, gives the most grounded turn: she sees the con, yet leaps into the fire for the thrill.

Not everything sings. Early scenes creak under the weight of choreography, head swivels, puppet limbs, and enough pelvic thrusts to make a Carry On film blush. But later, it loosens; the satire exhales. Harrower’s text hums like Beckett gatecrashing a sitcom: words loop, rhythms fracture, language curdles as the climax looms.

Will it divide? Probably. Did I go with it? Absolutely. There’s bite here, and promise, a company flexing muscles Chekhov would have applauded. A century and a half after Gogol skewered officialdom, the blade still glitters.

Government Inspector is worth investigation
By Reecy Pontiff

The vibe starts with a giant pile of cocaine atop a silver platter, and zips along in this fever-dream fashion for the play’s duration. The Government Inspector, an absurdist satire about greed and corruption, was originally penned by Russian writer Nikolai Gogol in 1836 – but there’s a distinctly over-the-top British comedy feel to this modern version staged by the Bristol Old Vic Theatre School. In it, a thoroughly debauched local council neglect, often gleefully, the needs of their small town’s citizenry. The council loses what’s left of their sex- and drug-addled minds when they hear that an incognito official has been sent from the capital to scrutinise their operation. A classic comedy of errors follows. The Tobacco Factory’s intimate theatre-in-the-round venue suits this frenetic production, as the characters themselves hardly seem to know their left from right.
The gender-blind and colour-conscious casting works to good effect, with the roles filled by a refreshing variety of actors. The cast is all turned up to eleven, save the relatively sane mayor’s daughter as played by Diya Vencatasawmy. Dannielle Stevenson is particularly entertaining as the provincial town’s hedonistic mayor. In her purple suit, sock garters and Scottish accent, Stevenson’s portrayal lies somewhere between Malcolm Tucker from The Thick of It and the Fonz from Happy Days. Surprisingly, there’s still a smidge of potentially problematic content in this 2011 version by David Harrower, begging the question of how offensive the 1836 original might now seem to a modern audience. But despite the unfortunate relevance of the 189-year-old source material, this company delivers a production too bonkers for anything less than escapism.