Attending the rehearsals for the Torch Theatre’s upcoming youth production of Sycamore Gap offered a profound insight into a work that, while still breathing and forming, is already heavy with meaning. As part of the National Theatre Connections 2026 program, Al Smith’s play utilises the felling of the iconic tree as a focal point for a complex whodunnit, yet it was clear from the atmosphere in the room that the narrative is less about the crime and more about the weight of collective identity. The rehearsal process, under the dynamic direction of Tim Howe and Mel Hughes, is a rigorous exploration of how a community turns inward during times of grief. 

Watching these two separate rehearsal groups work through different segments of the play revealed the elegant architecture of Smith’s writing, which cleverly splits the cast into two distinct, clashing forces. On one side stands the Eco-Club, an eclectic mix of recognisable teenage archetypes, from reluctant drifters to fervent idealists, whose layers are slowly peeled back to reveal something far more complex than a mere stereotype. Opposite them sits the Court of Public Opinion, perhaps the most unsettling presence in the rehearsal room, where chairs are arranged with a cold, deliberate precision to represent the fragmented voices of the internet. Each seat acts as a conduit for real online commentary drawn from the aftermath of the actual felling, transforming digital noise into a haunting, physical chorus.  Watching the cast grapple with the "Court of Public Opinion", revealed a production that is already sharpening its teeth.

The staging is anchored by a central stump that serves as a visual void, functioning as both a witness box and an interrogation platform. It was fascinating to observe how the performers, all named after trees, began to inhabit the symbolic traits of their namesakes; from the resilience of Birch to the hidden sharpness of Holly, Even at this early stage, the cast is truly beginning to take root in their roles, displaying a palpable sense of commitment as they navigate the play’s darker undercurrents of toxic masculinity and mental health. This ensemble that I watched during the rehearsal process features instincts from Hugo, Lacey, Dan, Dylan, Caitlin, Jacob, Zane, and Seren, who are already pulling out all the stops to produce a genuine show-stopper. It is clear that veteran performers from previous Torch Youth productions, such as Wind in the Willows and Bangers and Chips, are drawing on their experience to deliver particularly versatile performances, ensuring they don't bark up the wrong tree when it comes to the script’s emotional demands. As layers are peeled back and characters are exposed, a remarkably intuitive capacity for self-reflection emerges; the actors access deep aspects of their own personalities to ground their roles in truth. This sophistication is especially evident in the more humorous scenes.

Under the direction of Tim Howe, supported by assistant director Mel Hughes, the rehearsal room at the Torch Theatre felt less like a site of instruction and more like a space for genuine, high-stakes exploration. There is a palpable rigour to the process, yet it is underpinned by a profound sense of trust that allows for a truly collaborative dialogue between director and actor. The direction moves at a deliberate pace, ensuring that every nuance of Smith’s script is examined with surgical precision, while still providing the cast enough air to branch out and explore creative possibilities during high-tension movement sequences. These sequences already possess a haunting, unsettling quality, at times intimidating and accusatory, but always purposeful, leaning directly into the tension rather than seeking to diffuse it. The result is a staging that feels almost Shakespearean in its dramatic weight, where the gathering of suspects and the chorus of voices create a landscape where truth is constantly obscured by perspective. Even at this developmental stage, the production provides such gritty authenticity. The props, such as the strategically placed wine bottles and the evocative Victorian-style grouping of the "public," add a layer of dark humour that cuts through the tension. It is evident that the creative team is not afraid to let the silences breathe, allowing the play's more provocative themes to surface organically. One could say the cast is working hard to ensure they don't leave any stone unturned in their preparation. The sheer momentum of the production suggests something truly special is about to bloom on stage. I honestly can’t wait to see the play all put together as a whole, where the haunting symbolism of the stump and the biting wit of the dialogue can finally merge into one seamless, powerful experience.

As the production prepares to move from the Torch Theatre to the Aberystwyth Arts Centre, it stands as a testament to the urgency of youth theatre, a work that is not merely a rehearsal for the "real" world, but a vital, living confrontation with how we process loss and who we choose to blame