The Broadway Theatre Review: James Graham’s Punch
By Ross
“It’s a hot one today, boiling,” he states, wired and itching for drama, “and I’m not even high yet.” It’s a sharp, solid catch that holds us tight in a volatile and edgy headlock, right from the beginning of Punch, the new play by James Graham (NT’s This House), based on the book “Right from Wrong” by Jacob Dunne. Based on a true story, the play follows a Nottingham lad primed for a night of drinking, getting high, and looking for trouble. Jacob, played forcefully by Will Harrison (“A Complete Unknown“), is our combative guide; directionless and angry, gassed up and ready to pop, and we can’t look away as his blood boils and pumps through his body, overflowing with adrenaline and aggression.
That night will change everything for Jacob, and those around him and for one particular man, James, an innocent bystander who happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. We never see him, but on that night, which we guess is not so different than many for the wound-up Jacob, a single impulsive act of brawling loyalty by Jacob in response to a text from Jacob’s mates, everything is knocked over and out. Jacob throws a single punch at the oblivious James, sending him to the hospital, where he later dies from a brain injury. It’s not the punch, but the fall from the punch that does the irreparable damage. But the punch is felt by more than those two. It reverberates throughout the community, and changes the stance of their families and friends for a lifetime.
And then, with a shift in the light, impressively executed by Robbie Butler (NTS’s Keli), the frame itself transforms. What began as a story of youthful recklessness pivots toward something circular and therapeutic. Punch, now at Manhattan Theatre Club in association with Nottingham Playhouse, reveals a larger plan.. This isn’t just going to be a tale of violence followed by redemption and enlightenment, but a more complicated construct that is both impressive in its mindset, and deliberate in its unpacking. Acceptance, taking responsibility for one’s actions, and the complicated ideas of attempting forgiveness is what is being unpacked here in Nottingham, England, from 2011-2025.
The play flows forward effectively, for the most part, as directed by Adam Penford (Vaudeville’s The Boys in the Band), focusing its half-circled frame, constructed by scenic and costume designer Anna Fleischle (MTC/Young Vic’s The Collaboration), on the moment, but mostly on what happens after Jacob, who struggles in the world around him, runs away, knowing something has gone really wrong, but isn’t clear about it until weeks later. That’s when the news hits that James has died from the impact of the punch and the fall to the pavement. It doesn’t take long for Jacob to find himself abandoned by his mates and in jail, at first determined to get vengeance on those he feels should have been more loyal to him. But the real story of Punch begins when the parents of the dead James take center stage and start a surprising turnaround, overflowing with difficult empathy and curiosity, where there once was only grief, rage, and pain.
It’s with James’s parents where the emotional unpacking really finds its formula; with mother Joan, captivatingly well played by Victoria Clark (Broadway’s Kimberly Akimbo), and father David, lovingly portrayed by Sam Robards (Broadway’s The 39 Steps), confused by the event that took away their ‘gentle boy‘, who, they believe, was minding his own business. But in a one-punch flash, he was removed from their lives, and they don’t understand why. Why did this young man decide to punch their son? What could have provoked such a thuggish act of violence?
The play proceeds as one would expect, although impressively, with flashes of bold electricity and igniting sound, courtesy of the startling work done by composer & sound designer Alexandra Faye Braithwaite (Royal Court/West End’s Giant). We are given a backstory for Jacob, filled with complicated emotional and learning difficulties where he struggles to see a future in the Meadows, with their ‘backs to the world.’ The struggle got hard, and his behaviour quickly deteriorated, we are told, mostly from the framing of his Mum, organically unpacked by Lucy Taylor (PH’s Dance Nation), who, in a brilliant move, also plays Jacob’s caring parole officer. He’s diagnosed, but somehow left to run wild in the neighbourhood acting like its a ‘real-life video game‘ fuelled by testosterone and disgruntled angry confusion.
But a second shift occurs. This time, guided by a dedicated social worker, strongly embodied by Camila Canó-Flaviá (Broadway’s Patriots), Jacob and James’s parents enter the British Restorative Justice System, a brave, emotional experiment in empathy. Their correspondence, carefully facilitated and sometimes overexplained, becomes the play’s beating heart. It’s a brave act of engagement, one that proves emotional and difficult, but the results, as we are led through with perhaps too much theory and procedural detail, prove to be the beating heart of Punch. With the final act being an in-person meeting, where these three, whom many would believe hold so much resentment and fear, can ask the questions they’ve been holding, unanswered, in the consciousness, fuelling endless days of grief and pain.
Both Clark and Harrison deliver fine-tuned and powerful performances that hold this piece together like complex super glue, finding details and delivery that hit hard and dig deep. They are suitably and magnetically matched by a terrific ensemble that includes Canó-Flaviá as Clare/Nicola, Cody Kostro (CSC’s Dead Poets Society) as Raf/Sam, Piter Marek (“Girls5Eva“) as Tony/Berek/DS Villers, Robards as David/Raf’s Dad, and Taylor as Mum/Wendy. Each finds the intense essence of their sharp mirrored casting expertly, running the piece up and around with agility and speed.
The ideas and the therapeutic framings they forge their way through, especially for this psychotherapist, carry strong emotional ties to sadness, anger, and honest bitterness, but there is also accountability and honest emotional connection. Yet, how it proceeds, Punch too often is overwhelmed by procedural process and exposition, making it feel like a PSA for the restorative justice procedure process than an intimate and complex exploration of grief and forgiveness. The outcome is no real surprise, but even knowing that, this real-life unwrapping leaves us moved by the idea of curiosity and care. How Punch navigates forgiveness is one of the strongest moments of the whole play, with a handshake and the ‘getting there‘ gift holding so much weight, that Punch regains its power within the presentation of these characters and the engagement they deliver. What began as a boiling, impulsive act ends in a quiet, restorative reckoning — a transformation as radical, and as human, as forgiveness itself.
