man reduced to nothing more than his race. A world where survival hinges on desperate calculations. A chilling reminder of history’s darkest chapters. Nadya Menuhin’s stage adaptation of The Passenger, based on Ulrich Alexander Boschwitz’s 1938 novel Der Reisende, is a harrowing, visceral experience brought to life in Finborough Theatre’s intimate space.

Set in the aftermath of Kristallnacht—the Nazi-orchestrated pogrom that saw Jewish businesses, synagogues, and homes destroyed—The Passenger captures the escalating horror faced by Jews in Nazi Germany. The story unfolds through Otto Silbermann (Robert Neumark Jones), a successful Jewish businessman forced to flee Berlin as the Nazi regime tightens its grip. Stripped of his home, business, and identity, Otto embarks on a relentless series of train journeys across Germany, hoping to escape a system determined to erase him.

The Finborough’s small performance space, amplified by Tim Supple’s direction, heightens the feeling of entrapment. Hannah Schmidt’s minimalist set demands the audience’s imagination: train carriages exist only in the rhythmic swaying of actors mimicking motion. Mattis Larsen’s lighting bathes the stage in ominous half-light, transforming the other four cast members into shadowy figures who linger at the edges of Otto’s world—silent observers and looming threats. Joseph Alford’s sound design reinforces Otto’s mounting paranoia with its deep, pulsating undercurrents. These elements lend the production an expressionist, almost cinematic quality—a fever dream of fear and inevitability.

The five-person cast (Ben Fox, Eric MacLennan, Dan Milne, Robert Neumark Jones, and Kelly Price) deliver outstanding performances, seamlessly shifting between multiple roles. Neumark Jones is particularly compelling, charting Otto’s gradual unravelling with remarkable depth. His journey is not just one of physical displacement but of existential decay. He begins as a man of wealth and status yet as the state strips away his privileges—his home, business, and even his name—his sense of self disintegrates. When he rejects Fritz (Dan Milne), the only other Jewish character in the play, the brutal reality of survival is laid bare: it’s every man for himself.

One of the play’s most striking moments occurs at the start: the other cast members slowly place Otto’s clothes and accessories on him. This simple yet powerful act foreshadows his fate—his identity is not his own but something constructed, granted, and ultimately taken away. By the end of the play, he is merely a passenger, powerless against history’s relentless tide.

Though largely successful, the adaptation occasionally falters in dialogue, which at times feels stilted—likely a result of its German origins. Some lines feel more translated than lived-in. However, this minor flaw does little to diminish the production’s impact.

At its core, The Passenger is not just Otto Silbermann’s story. It is about what happens when a society decides certain people no longer belong. It is about shifting relationships under pressure—when former colleagues, partners, and friends look away, fear of association turning them into bystanders.

A chilling, thought-provoking piece of theatre, The Passenger is a masterclass in tension and raw emotional power. In a world where history threatens to repeat itself, this play reminds us exactly why we must never forget.

The Passenger is running at Finborough Theatre until Saturday 15 March.