The Little Foxes
Young Vic, London

LILLIAN HELLMAN’s classic The Little Foxes, currently showing at the Young Vic, has the potency of one long, tightly funnelled, exhaled breath. And it reeks of the 20th century when it was written, and of an America still carving out its identity against a backdrop of dreams.

The play almost serves as an allegory, exhibiting the obsessions and fundamental rot at the country’s heart. And it’s a moral tale, charting the terrible consequences of money obsession and the kind of dynasty-building that courts and protects affluence. 

One such dynasty is the Hubbard family. Consumed by a savage and almost primordial lust for wealth, Regina and her two brothers have long erased from their minds and souls all else that might be of worth. In pursuit of riches, they have betrayed all relationships, cared nothing for simple humanity and immersed themselves in selfishness and greed. They keep the family intact simply as a means of maximising and securing gain.  

Some of the family members suffer inordinately as a consequence. And only the two servants comfort us with their easy-going normality and freedom from malice.

The title The Little Foxes, with its biblical origin, indicates the wider significance of this one microcosmic story, revealing the characters as diminished to an animal state rather than elevated – as the siblings believe they are – to the smartness and sharpness of wily, clued-up victors.

It would be easy to play this piece as a heightened melodrama, the plot depending as it does on emerging inner torment. With this director and cast, though, nothing could be further from the outcome. For there is an intense truthfulness in the portrayal of all the characters in this production which sweeps the audience along.

Director Lyndsey Turner gives us the drama straight. Nothing tricksy, nothing new, nothing re-interpreted for the modern age. The servants are black – this is the Deep South after all and is an important recognition of the country’s roots in slavery. 

The women, meanwhile, are worse than chattels. Only Regina has raised her status, simply by turning the tables on her husband and effectively abusing him as retribution for her own internalised pain. Abuse is rife, seeming as essential to covetousness as is betrayal to victory. And there is no catharsis.   

Lizzie Clachan’s design is strangely anaemic with quirky glimpses into an outer room, and a functional short staircase that enables one of the most searing images of the play. An inter-scene rhythmic beat from sound director Tingying Dong raises the tension, and the production is pacy and determined. 

But it is the cast who deliver the goods.

Anne-Marie Duff is an excellent Regina. Wounded beneath her icy exterior and brain-moulded into single-mindedness, she asserts power. At the same time, her softly-clad, fragile body betrays its wasted potential and hits us with the knowledge that nothing of love has ever come near her. It’s a performance of immense skill and subtlety, only matched by the finely tuned teamwork of the remaining cast. 

A worthy, if unchallenging, revival. 

Runs until February 8 2025. Box office: 020 7922 2922, youngvic.org