Sam Rayner is looking around the top floor of Caffè Nero with a sense of unease. He has been rehearsing intensely, has just been cast in the pantomime, and is presently concerned about whether we will be made to exit the premises for not buying anything. After carefully surveying the room, we collectively decide to take the risk and stay, and conversation promptly turns from Caffè Nero etiquette to Of Mice and Men, the show Sam is directing at the ADC this week.

What exactly, I ask Sam, is the overall aesthetic of this production? “It tries to push realism a little further, and is a bit closer to Expressionism in the sense that there’s a lot of distortion in the set and the puppets that we’re using. And that’s something which should, hopefully, give a real sense of unease and dislocation.” Jamie Fenton has provided some “really wonderful work in composing”, and he tells me that “One of the key things Sam and I talked about when writing the music was to portray a sense of discomfort and irresolution. The songs are a bit weird, a bit dark and a bit hopeful.” The band providing the music every night, consisting of Jamie, Jack Ranson and Eleanor Brug, are key, for Sam, in setting the tone of the play, and giving it a “really brittle atmosphere”, keeping in line with the “very brittle” characters, who, for Sam, “seem hardened on the outside, but if you push them too hard then they’re liable to snap”. As the audience enter, we shall be treated to the “eerie, metallic sound” of bass guitars being bowed, and it is this level of unease that Sam is keen to push in the story as well as for the viewers: “Everyone is walking on eggshells, and as soon as Lennie and George set foot on the stage there’s this real sense of uncertainty, and that’s pretty much maintained throughout.”

As I press Sam about just how “timeless” the novel truly is (as advertised by the show’s blurb), I can feel the sixteen year old GCSE English Literature student inside of me trying desperately to take over the interview already. Instead, retreating into silence, I let Sam explain just why he chose “timeless” to describe the play:

“It’s a play that’s very much concerned with perspective, and how we’re conditioned to perceive others. A lot of it revolves around hierarchy, power structures, social justice, and the reticence hidden behind the seemingly transparent emotional links we share.” For Luke Sumner, who plays the role of George, the timelessness exists in the themes of the play - “loss and sacrifice, hopes and dreams, death and desire – and they are housed within a distinct world that by being removed from our daily lives makes their issues just as compelling”. The novella’s core foundation, the friendship between Lennie and George, is just as “timeless”. In Sam’s eyes, it’s a play which centres upon “platonic love between two men who can never really express it. George can never openly admit his love for Lennie, because it’s something for which he would be immediately judged and deemed weak, or even dangerous.”

Curley’s Wife, the only female character in the play, also occupies a crucial role to the plot, and the morality and emotions of the story. Sam is keen to present her in a sympathetic light: “George and Lennie are told before she even enters that she’s a tart, a whore, a tramp, that she sleeps around, but this is just a facade that she creates.” For Julia Kass, who plays the role in this production, the novella places her as “more of a symbol than a fully fledged character”. Sam explains that Steinbeck has instead given the play much more backstory to psychologically justify her actions, and that “Society has conditioned her to believe that she has to perform this way in order to interact with these men. That’s the only way she can get the attention she craves, which is really quite emotionally affecting.”

Emotions are evidently very key to this production, and when I mention just how easy it can be to caricature the character of Lennie, Sam is keen to discuss how they have handled the development of the character: “Jen [Hutchings, Assistant Director], Max [Roberts, playing Lennie] and I spent a couple of days volunteering at a club for people with special needs, and it was really eye-opening for us all. It allowed us to attach elements of Lennie’s character to tangible characteristics of people we feel like we know, or at least know something about. It was very helpful, and Max is doing a terrific job, and I think it’s a very accurate representation.”

When I ask Sam if he’s at all concerned that there will be people entering the theatre with a clearly formed idea of what the play should be, he seems more enthusiastic than worried: “I’m not intimidated or frightened by the prospect that our interpretation might be different from most people’s, and I think that’s hopefully what will make this an exciting project.” My sixteen year old self would definitely agree, and as we slip away from the unsuspecting Caffè Nero staff and out onto the relative safety of King’s Parade, I can only hope my nineteen year old self does too.