In this dark comedy, set in a Devon coastal town, a vicar wrestles with his conscience, fighting against the demands of a bereaved community following the tragic death of a young girl, Taylor Southbury. He feels he must stick by his principles despite, or perhaps because of, having failed to on previous occasions.

The mixed local community, from the privileged members of the yacht club to those on the estate struggling on the edge of poverty are seemingly almost united against the vicar. A new curate is sent to help, but he brings his own baggage with him. The vicar's two contrasting daughters, one an actor, reluctantly back from London, the other a verger and local primary teacher, are each trying to determine their own futures, as is his long-suffering wife.

The themes of gratitude and forgiveness are explored with a depth of complexity, showing there are no easy answers. The play does not shy away from issues in the Church of England, with same-sex marriage, abuse, grief and tradition versus modernity all being touched upon. The whole cast performed well but Bill Butler leads them with an outstanding performance as the troubled vicar David Highland who is charming and witty, convicted yet conflicted and struggling with alcoholism as he tries to hold his family, his community and his conscience together. His daughters, one of whom is adopted, are convincingly played by Kelly Davidson and Hadessa Ramjee. Pete Gillam also shines as Scottish Curate Craig.

The play is set in the busy vicarage kitchen which plays host to a succession of visitors. The set is detailed and convincing, with cooker, fridge, cleaning materials, sink, kettle, toaster on the one side, dining table and chairs in the middle and drinks cabinet and bookcase filled with suitable books and trinkets on the other. In the middle, behind (and above) the window stands the church tower, strikingly lit, and symbolising how the church is central to this coastal community and still plays a big part in its residents’ lives, regardless of their faith. The hymn-singing, prerecorded by Local Vocals Community choir, also adds to the ecclesiastical atmosphere.

The play deliberately seems to ask more questions than it offers answers, offering a glimpse into the issues potentially faced by modern vicars and the changing role of the Church of England. The playwright, Stephen Beresford, said he wrote the play for the purpose of asking the question “Who would be a vicar?”. The audience is left to make its own decisions about what is right and who has made the correct decisions. There are no black and white conclusions but many grey areas, loyalties are tested and none of the well-developed characters are without flaws. Each faces their own inner conflicts to a greater or lesser degree, often acting impulsively without thinking through the consequences of their actions and questioning their own motivations.

It is a strength of this performance and of the play that, despite dealing with complex and difficult issues, such as death, grief, conscience, truth, community and the role of the church, humour can come through. The vicar, in particular, has a tendency to dry wit and to making jokes to lighten awkward situations. This seems to be a trait shared by his daughter Naomi, who poses the classic “How many Anglicans does it take to change a lightbulb?” I won’t spoil the punchline for you- you’ll have to watch the play for that! Overall, this makes for a thought-provoking, entertaining and engaging evening.

Alison Manning, Elementary Whatson

Perfect theatre,aside from musicals, is when the elemental parts—the set, the lighting, the sound—are a given. The process. The magic lies in the play itself—the story, the issues, and the characters who drive the arc fuse to become one, making for a night of definitive story-telling. The Criterion's new production nearly achieves it. 

Stephen Beresford’s The Southbury Child, first performed in 2022, is a darkly comedic drama exploring morality, tradition, and community tensions in a small English town. At its heart is David Highland, a rebellious, self-righteous vicar who refuses to allow Disney-themed decorations at a child’s funeral, sparking outrage and exposing the church’s rigid unadaptability. More than a local controversy, the play is a subversion—satire exposing the church’s absolute irrelevance in modern times. Whether you're a believer or not, if you seek controversy, nonsense, and hypocrisy—all tax-free—the church is the place to be.

The funeral balloons are merely a metaphor. Tradition dictates, and those who challenge it can go to hell. The play isn’t perfect—it runs about ten minutes too long in each act—but the Criterion’s new production nearly is. Opening night is always unique; the cast is attuned to the occasion, and an audience shifts the dynamic from rehearsal to performance. The Earlsdon company elevates the piece, making it difficult to single out individual standouts in such a cohesive ensemble. Simply put, it was excellently produced. Perhaps the play would benefit from more alacrifying pacing, but this is a literary criticism and not one that rests with the company. The play would benefit from cutting in each act where exposition has been sometimes laboriously written. 

That said, if Central Casting were in the house, they’d sign Bill Butler as “Clergy” on the spot. As David Highland, he is splendidly understated—grimacingly self-righteous, teetering on the edge of saccharine. His controlled portrayal of the English reverential set—strawberry-jam, Mr. Kipling charm masking an insatiable addiction to alcohol—could not be bettered. Christine Evans lends strong support as his long-suffering wife Mary, the anchor in their marriage—rooted in place rather than passion. She supports, she suggests, all while knowing her husband is a failure. Connor Michael, once again excellent, bridges tradition and modernity as Lee Southbury, an outsider who questions whether David’s stance is about morality or simply ego.

But really, it’s all village stuff. The play captures the parochialism of Middle England religion while questioning its relevance. Once the institution of early government, the church now struggles against diminishing attendance, reflecting our broader shift from spiritualism to materialism.

Mark Pitt, Choppa.com

The death of a child is one of the most traumatic and challenging experiences a family can have. In Stephen Beresford’s bitter-sweet comedy, The Southbury Child, a community is torn apart by it. 

The community in this case is a small Devon village plagued by unemployment, tourism and class divisions. Deep social scars bleed into questions of how the child should be remembered. The family, and almost all the village, want the funeral to be held in the church, and to have it fully decorated in a way that Taylor Southbury, the child, would have liked, especially with lots of helium filled Disney ballons. Against them stands one man, David Highland (Bill Butler), the long-standing vicar of the parish. Not that he is unsympathetic, far from it, but he argues that the church stands for something more, and in its rituals represents an acknowledgement of the truths of our lives, not least that we will die. He rejects what seems from this point of view to be a trivialisation of the meaning of life and of death. 

He is, one might argue, a true Anglican, a deeply flawed man who tries to find a way through conflicting situations that bears witness to the faith and at the same time embraces all peoples. Those around him are themselves neither good nor bad, but vulnerable, hurt, angry, frightened, confused; struggling each in their way to make sense of and acknowledge what matters in life. 

Fortunately, the characterisation is strong, with some good performances to match. The vicar at the centre of this controversy, is torn and anguish ridden, struggling to remain true to his conscience while acknowledging his faults. His wife, Mary (Christine Evans) finds herself stretched between loyalty to her husband and that to the village, ultimately preferring a quiet life, though she too has to acknowledge some uncomfortable truths. Their daughters Suzannah (Kelly Davidson) and Naomi (Hadessa Ramjee) represent two starkly contrasting characters, and when one gets into trouble it rams home to their parents the reality behind the cosy abstractions.

For me, the outstanding performance and character was Connor Bailey’s, Lee Southbury, uncle to the dead girl and black sheep of the family. Bailey managed to give his character some dignity in spite of his glaring flaws. It is a difficult thing to make a character who is, from a certain point of view, stupid with some very ugly attitudes, both believable and sympathetic and far from a stereotype. His sister, Tina Southbury, mother to Taylor, was magnificent in her fury at the vicar and her brother, and achingly moving in her pain. 

The Southbury Child is a deeply thoughtful, often very funny, moving and prescient play, superbly cast and sensitively played throughout. It manages to pack into a couple of hours many of the issues of our day, which some might say is its fault. But, again arguably, like the Church itself, it manages to be both part of them and to rise above them. 

Nick LeMesurier, Warwickshire World