Charlie Parham is nothing if not brave. Not every student director would have the courage to adapt an Academy Award-nominated film for its first ever English stage performance; even fewer would choose a piece of subtitled German cinema depicting the tragic fate of a Nazi resistance heroine. The sensivity of the subject-matter, difficulty in achieving fresh scripting and complex aesthetic decisions make the successes of Sophie Scholl doubly impressive. While this is a daring and polished production, translating a cinematic experience onto the stage will always entail certain risks and sacrifices: it feels as if Sophie Scholl is the first flawed draft of what may later become a stunning final creation.

This is not to say that the play does not possess moments of real theatrical brilliance. In following the seditious activities of the White Rose resistance group, the play moves fluidly between scenes of frantic discussion, household routine and interrogative horror. Parham is a master of the visual; his ensemble tableaus are electric, especially in the remarkable opening scene on the dual-layered stage with a young girl singing amidst rows of black-clad and silent figures.  The scenes uniting the adult and child versions of Sophie, with the girl played by the admirably confident Eylem Boz, are equally striking and create a real sense of her childhood without being cloying. This talent for spatial manipulation is complemented by inventive lighting and Pippa Scarcliffe’s subtle set design, melding an austere and haunting backdrop of bare scaffolding with draped Nazi flags and piles of sandbags. Such attention to detail is replicated in the impressively authentic use of props and Tom Rasmussen’s astute costume choices. From Sophie’s glowing red cardigan in a murky backdrop of greys and browns to the characters’ battered shoes, these realistic features convey the ugly facts of Nazi brutality lurking under this network of ordinary domesticated lives.

As expected from the veteran cast, the quality of acting in Sophie Scholl is consistently strong in these highly demanding and nuanced roles. Despite a few stilted attempts at natural conversation, Charlotte Hamblin as Sophie has crafted a character of true profundity. After a dignified performance during the interrogation scenes, Charlotte preserves the vulnerability of this young adult by physically fading into a pale and weary shadow in the cells; at her death, with her head held obstinately high, her sense of determination is thrillingly tangible. There is another outstanding performance from Will Attenborough, simultaneously cruel, fanatic and human, as the chief interrogator, as he resists the temptation to construct a flamboyant Nazi villain to which Stephen Bermingham unfortunately succumbs with his snarling, panto-esque guard. Finally, a slouching Hugh Stubbins deserves mention as an impassioned caretaker, while Tom Russell has created a softly-spoken and noble portrayal of Sophie’s brother and fellow resistance member, Hans.

In light of Parham's achievement in adapting this German script, itself based on the genuine transcripts from the case, it is inevitable that there are initial weaknesses and awkward phraseology. The taut dialogue flourishes at times of intensity and pressure; however, it needed more vibrancy when faced with the difficult task of creating a genuinely naturalistic scene and lacked friction and freshness in casual conversation. Many phrases teetered on the edge of melodramatic cliché, while the understandable difficulty of capturing the agony of Sophie’s last meeting with her parent saw the language descend into stilted flatness, despite the historical veracity of the words being said. Many of the more formal scenes lend themselves well to the panoramic camera sweeps and constructed visual layers of film, since words are often unnecessary and can feel jarring in certain contexts. 

While the power of silences has been expertly harnessed, the use of music verged on being clunky and unsubtle. Although they are essential in many transitional or extended scenes, piping these soundscapes through the speakers often feels like unoriginal signposting for audience emotion. And certain characters flirt with caricature; while Ed Eustace is as magnetic and idiosyncratic as ever when spitting insults as the President of the People’s Court, this excessive shouting of abuse taints the subtle horror of the event in itself.

The simplistic binary opposition of good and bad, the difficulty of making the conversation seem natural and the stylistic issues of certain scenes mean that Sophie Scholl needs a few further refinements. Yet this play should not be considered anything other than an achievement. Stimulating creative endeavours and sparkling ideas like that of this adaptation are why the ADC Theatre exists: the director, cast and crew have chosen to put on a uniquely challenging piece of theatre and with repeated productions, they will eventually spectacularly succeed.

 

Sophie Scholl runs until Saturday at the ADC, 7.45pm