I have not read ‘Grapes of Wrath.’ It is not on the list of school-mandated literature where I am from and reading ‘From Mice and Men’ put me off Steinbeck for life. I cried too hard, and the feeling of sadness haunted me for too long. I did not want to voluntarily subject myself to such despair again.

I therefore went to the National to see the 1988 adaptation by Frank Galati, not knowing exactly what was in store, but assuming it was not going to be easy watching. I was not mistaken. It was rather harrowing.

The opening scene of the Dust Bowl is quite spectacular and very evocative. In a very short period, it completely immerses the viewer in the bleak reality that followed this ecological disaster. The feeling of immersion is amplified by the bluegrass music and the oppressive darkness. Many of the scenes that follow are reminiscent of the colours in the Van Gogh’s Potato Eaters, adding to the overwhelming sorrow that envelopes the audience.

I found myself constantly thinking – this is what a ‘cost of living crisis’ truly looks like, this is how bad things can actually get. And there are other themes that clearly have relevance today – climate crisis, economic migration, exploitation of the vulnerable. It feels like the play is ripe for an update to give it a contemporary take. But I am really grateful that it was not ‘modernised’ like so many productions I have recently seen. Because if it had, I think some elements that impacted me very strongly, would have had to be removed as they would not resonate as well in a modern context.

One of these aspects was the tight-knit nature of the multigenerational Joad clan. I found the mixture of love, respect, support and understanding extremely touching. This story had so much about the value of family, of sticking together, of caring for one another. And the other, was the compassion for other human beings. From the early scenes where Ma Joad agrees to the Preacher travelling with them to California, to the one of the last scenes where people run to help with the flooding.

All of this rang true in the historical setting of the play and was not at all moralising. If it had been modernised, it may have easily turned into something woke and preachy. And frankly, I am perfectly capable of seeing the present-day relevance of great literature without someone pointing out the bloody obvious.

There was one other scene that left a lasting impression on me. The doom, gloom and oppressing darkness are conquered for a fleeting moment. The dance scene at one of the camps fills the stage with light and joy. For some reason that I cannot quite put my finger on, the men, holding out their hands in the process of asking a woman to dance, completely enthralled me. There is something so delicate in the gesture, juxtaposed against the harsh reality all around.

Much of the play however feels a bit too slow and possibly unnecessarily dragged out. Frank Galati was quoted as having said: Doing The Grapes of Wrath for the first time helped us realize that you can travel a thousand miles by crossing 30 feet of stage floor. I imagine the pushing around of the car and extended spinning is meant to convey the length of the journey. But if feels excessive. Similarly, whilst the music underscores the drudgery and adds an aching air to the performance, it feels overused and somewhat repetitive. And with the length of the play, shaving a little off here or there would probably be beneficial.

Regardless, I found the play powerful, with some superb acting and a heart-wrenching depiction of human suffering. For someone as fortunate as me, it certainly led to a lot of introspection.