Small Hotel
Production Photographs by Marc Brenner
Last night, I had the pleasure of attending the press night for Small Hotel, the world premiere of a brand new play by Rebecca Lenkiewicz, directed by Holly Race Roughan and starring Ralph Fiennes. This original work marks the final production in Theatre Royal Bath’s Ralph Fiennes season - a carefully curated and artistically ambitious series that has brought excitement and freshness to the city’s cultural landscape over recent months.
Following Fiennes’ inventive and emotionally resonant As You Like It, (which I was also fortunate enough to see earlier in the season) Small Hotel continues the trend of pushing traditional boundaries while honouring the possibilities of theatrical storytelling. Though markedly different in tone and structure from Shakespeare, this new play offers a similarly layered and thought-provoking experience.
Following Fiennes’ inventive and emotionally resonant As You Like It, (which I was also fortunate enough to see earlier in the season) Small Hotel continues the trend of pushing traditional boundaries while honouring the possibilities of theatrical storytelling. Though markedly different in tone and structure from Shakespeare, this new play offers a similarly layered and thought-provoking experience.
Production Photographs by Marc Brenner
The story centres on Larry, played by Fiennes himself. A middle-aged man caught in a liminal space between memory and reality; Larry is the unreliable narrator through what feels like a fever dream of the past. Scenes slip between real and imagined, comic and tragic, tender and disturbing - often without clear borders. As an audience member, you're constantly asked to recalibrate, to let go of logic and surrender to mood.
The staging is striking in its simplicity. The set makes use of large projection screens that crackle with static, evoking the flickering uncertainty of old black-and-white film footage. A revolving stage allows the action to glide fluidly from one fragmented scene to the next, creating a cinematic quality that suits the dreamlike atmosphere. This visual style is echoed in the production’s musical choices, which nod knowingly to the golden age of Hollywood. These subtle wistful, dramatic, and sometimes ironic cues reinforce the play’s atmosphere of nostalgia and lost grandeur.
There are occasional choices that feel less essential. The bursts of tap dancing, for instance, while perhaps intended to inject rhythm or levity, felt slightly out of place in an otherwise emotionally delicate play. These moments didn’t quite land for me, but they were short enough not to disrupt the overall flow.
The staging is striking in its simplicity. The set makes use of large projection screens that crackle with static, evoking the flickering uncertainty of old black-and-white film footage. A revolving stage allows the action to glide fluidly from one fragmented scene to the next, creating a cinematic quality that suits the dreamlike atmosphere. This visual style is echoed in the production’s musical choices, which nod knowingly to the golden age of Hollywood. These subtle wistful, dramatic, and sometimes ironic cues reinforce the play’s atmosphere of nostalgia and lost grandeur.
There are occasional choices that feel less essential. The bursts of tap dancing, for instance, while perhaps intended to inject rhythm or levity, felt slightly out of place in an otherwise emotionally delicate play. These moments didn’t quite land for me, but they were short enough not to disrupt the overall flow.
Production Photographs by Marc Brenner
The ensemble cast delivers strong, grounded performances throughout, and Rosalind Eleazar, in the role of Marianne, brought remarkable subtlety and emotional depth to the stage. She presents Marianne’s presence in Larry’s fractured memory with a sensitivity that cuts through the play’s more surreal elements. Whether confronting Larry directly or fading in and out of his recollections, Eleazar commands the stage with grace and quiet power. Her performance brings some of the most moving moments of the night and gives the play a sense of emotional grounding, even when the story feels unclear.
Francesca Annis and Rachel Tucker also give rich, considered performances, each adding texture to Larry’s introspective journey. Even when the narrative feels confusing, the cast’s commitment ensures the audience stays connected to the emotional undercurrent of the piece.
Francesca Annis and Rachel Tucker also give rich, considered performances, each adding texture to Larry’s introspective journey. Even when the narrative feels confusing, the cast’s commitment ensures the audience stays connected to the emotional undercurrent of the piece.
Production Photographs by Marc Brenner
It’s difficult to summarise Small Hotel in terms of plot as it mostly stays away from traditional structure and leans instead into a kind of poetic, internal logic. What we see might be memories, dreams, regrets, or simply the workings of a haunted mind. But even with all its abstract moments, the play still feels strangely relatable. There are flashes of humour, warm human moments, and deep vulnerability woven throughout.
What I feel Small Hotel really offers is a meditation on intimacy, exploring how it shapes us, how it slips away, how it lingers. The relationships Larry revisits are messy, touching and unresolved. It’s in this space between connection and disconnection that Small Hotel finds its emotional centre. I left the theatre feeling not confused, but contemplative. Audiences should not feel overwhelmed by the surrealism but invited to reflect on what they’ve just witnessed.
It’s worth noting that Small Hotel isn’t the kind of production that spoon-feeds its audience. It asks for patience, openness, and a willingness to sit with ambiguity. For some, that might prove challenging. But for others - particularly those who appreciate theatre that favours mood and metaphor over clear narrative arcs - this will be a rewarding and memorable experience.
What I feel Small Hotel really offers is a meditation on intimacy, exploring how it shapes us, how it slips away, how it lingers. The relationships Larry revisits are messy, touching and unresolved. It’s in this space between connection and disconnection that Small Hotel finds its emotional centre. I left the theatre feeling not confused, but contemplative. Audiences should not feel overwhelmed by the surrealism but invited to reflect on what they’ve just witnessed.
It’s worth noting that Small Hotel isn’t the kind of production that spoon-feeds its audience. It asks for patience, openness, and a willingness to sit with ambiguity. For some, that might prove challenging. But for others - particularly those who appreciate theatre that favours mood and metaphor over clear narrative arcs - this will be a rewarding and memorable experience.
Production Photographs by Marc Brenner
In many ways, Small Hotel is a fitting conclusion to a season that has dared to take risks. Ralph Fiennes’ season at Theatre Royal Bath this year has been one of artistic boldness and generosity, spotlighting not just his own talents but those of the wider creative team, cast, and crew.
Small Hotel is appearing at Theatre Royal Bath until Saturday 18 October. For those attending, be sure to go in with an open mind. Let the static crackle and the memories blur. You might just find something unexpectedly moving in the haze.
Small Hotel is appearing at Theatre Royal Bath until Saturday 18 October. For those attending, be sure to go in with an open mind. Let the static crackle and the memories blur. You might just find something unexpectedly moving in the haze.