Dear England Review: New Wimbledon Theater

The English national soccer team used to be a constant disappointment. A golden generation of players from Wayne Rooney to Steven Gerrard somehow never gelled. There were great moments, high hopes, and world-class players, but it always ended in agony and apathy.

Dear England revolves around Gareth Southgate, the man who missed a crucial spot kick against the old enemy, Germany, at Wembley three decades ago at Euro ‘96. England, briefly, regained respectability on the international stage. The play opens in the aftermath of that moment, a pain that has never really left Southgate. His redemptive arc came later, as he took over the managerial reins of the team 20 years later.

England became very good at losing penalty shootouts. But Southgate is determined to change the brand, the mentality, and the noise around the team. He wants love from the outside by creating a force on the inside. Simple rules are enforced. Players from different club teams sit together. Elites are not allowed. Growth is awkward, but the play underlines that even hardcore footballers can be open to expressing feelings.

This is where the story moves beyond just the pitch and Wembley. David Sturzaker is a worthy Southgate, resplendent in the famous waistcoat that became a staple wardrobe of the new man in charge. As the narrative unfolds, England’s new breed is formed and nurtured to play together and form the team bond that escaped previous regimes.

There are some super turns here as we get to know the lads in the dressing room. Oscar Gough gets Harry Kane's mannerisms and monotone delivery. It’s funny, but somehow effective as he grows into the low-key leader of the side. Jack Maddison has a ball playing Jordan Pickford, the potty-mouthed goalkeeper who helps England finally win a shootout.

Rupert Goold’s direction is a blast in the first half with a great soccer soundtrack, a fine recreation of the tension of penalty kicks, and some brilliant comic turns. Courtney George does an amusingly stiff Theresa May, while Steven Dykes's physio is your perfect 'up and at ‘em' backroom man.

The beauty of togetherness contributes to a new excitement during their most effective World Cup run since the days of Gazza back in 1990. And this time, the nightmare of the shootout – such a psychological block over the years – is finally broken. This helps the connection back home as Southgate’s team mould themselves into a likeable bunch delivering results rather than an aloof team that underachieves.

You don’t have to like soccer to enjoy this production, because the attachment to a bigger event with national identity means more than the sport. One of the most attractive things about the beautiful game is that it brings strangers together. This direction drives the narrative with energy and joy, acting as the glue in victory and defeat. There’s plenty of that in the first half of the play. It’s a joyous riot.

Nowadays, professional teams have a bus-load of assistants, nutritionists, and mindset coaches to try and gain that extra one per cent. Central to the theme of the play is looking outside the narrow walls of life, class, skin, and expectations. Southgate engages psychologist Pippa Grange, played with elan and empathy by Samantha Womack, to try to change the glorious failure and fault lines that have infected the England teams of the past. The Australian accent is a little distracting, but it’s all good. Womack's character gets sidelined in Act 2, which is where the story loses fluency.

There are tougher storylines that revolve around racism, social media backlash, and the backstory of players who disappear from the scene. But when Southgate walks away after reaching the Euro finals in 2024, the team are genuinely bonded. The journey of Dear England is worth sticking with until the bittersweet end.