
T.S. Eliot‘s 1935 verse drama is staged here by the Orange Tree Theatre in St John the Divine, a church Eliot had a strong relationship with. It tells the story of Archbishop Thomas Becket‘s murder in 1170, but it was written in 1935, and it this production makes us ponder how much of it speaks to 2026 too. At all these time in history, we find anxious people, nationhood up for debate and positions hardening towards the extreme. Eliot also threaded in far older elements, notably the Greek chorus.
The 1935 context matters. Acting on behalf of the Canterbury Festival of Music and Drama, Bishop Bell asked Eliot to write a new play for the festival’s June 1935 iteration. Bell was also the major point of contact in England for the German pastors resisting the Third Reich and their are echoes of their situation here. So it is an important play, though it is also a structurally unbalanced one.

In the play, as in history, Becket has fallen out with Henry II but has now returned to Canterbury. We know his blood was later said to have healing powers, and the cathedral became a major place of pilgrimage, so seeing the play staged there must have been immensely powerful. A murder at the altar feels shocking even in Richmond. The church has been dressed to feel more of a sanctuary than it perhaps ever would. There are candles on every surface and dozens around the altar, and the space truly feels sacred and holy. The candles, incense and haze, while atmospheric and beautiful, were too much for some audience members, and there were a number of empty seats after the interval.
The play opens with the chorus, the “Greek” chorus of poor women lamenting the danger of Becket’s return, alongside his priests. Four professionals lead the chorus, joined by members of the community. Their keening sails up to the rafters, and the choreography and candles build tableaux of emotion. Yet the chorus did feel overly prolonged at times. Twelve voices in unison were harder to follow in such a large space, though they were clearly immensely well rehearsed.

Eliot wrote in 1927, “If anyone asked what I take to be the good things of life, I should say, primarily, heroism and saintliness.” In Act 1, the tempters explore Becket’s heroism and saintliness carefully, offering him four reasons to resolve his conflict with Henry II. The first three are easy to refuse: earthly pleasures, political power and an alliance against the King. The fourth is more profound, because it offers him the glory of martyrdom and eternal fame as a saint. Becket’s debate with himself leads to the play’s key lines:
Now is my way clear, now is the meaning plain:
Temptation shall not come in this kind again.
The last temptation is the greatest treason:
To do the right deed for the wrong reason.
He may have to die, but seeking that death for his own fame would be wrong.
Sir David Suchet is transcendent. Each line carries a different level of emotion or poignancy, and every word adds to his story. When he spits out “Cheapside” to confirm where he comes from, the word holds every piece of malice and judgement that has been aimed at him because of his humble birth. His sermon, delivered from the pulpit, was so true to church tradition that, as someone used to Anglo-Catholic services, I found it very hard not to follow the formalities. I sat on my hands to stop myself crossing myself, though perhaps Suchet would not have minded.

Then comes the murder. When Suchet cries “Open the doors”, he knows the knights will come into the sanctuary to kill him. The four knights (Jyuddah Jaymes, Ben Caplan, Nick Sampson and David Yelland who double as the tempters) are ably portrayed. They mean to do harm, but we also see the complexity of their feelings: they want to serve the King but are unsure what that will mean for their futures. When they race through the church itself, pushing chorus members aside as they brandish their swords, it is visceral and shocking.
Their address to the audience afterwards, though, was perhaps not needed. We have already understood for ourselves that Becket is a multi-layered man, and that what loyalty should lead the knights to do is opaquely difficult.
Revd Joe Moore, Team Vicar of St John the Divine, deserves credit too. In allowing the church to be used in this way, he has bravely welcomed people into his place of worship and enabled them to grapple with the history and choices of an early English martyr, canonised by the Pope little more than two years after his death.
The setting greatly enhances the story and underlines the scandal of where Becket was killed. The play is uneven, stronger in places than in others, but it is a helpful reminder that political questions are perennial and not easily solved. Go for the glorious atmosphere and for Suchet.
Murder in the Cathedral, directed by Tom Littler, played at St John the Divine, Richmond, until 7 November 2026, and transfers to Theatre Royal Bath from 10 to 21 November 2026.
Images: Marc Brenner
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