Boys from the Blackstuff, National Theatre review — 1980s agonies speak sharply to today’s state of the nation

“I am a human being!” cries Yosser Hughes in desperation at one point in Boys from the Blackstuff. He could be an Arthur Miller character — a Willy Loman for a more recent era. And indeed Alan Bleasdale’s seminal 1982 television series about five unemployed Liverpudlians spoke for its time, just as Miller’s Death of a Salesman did for the 1940s. Yosser’s heartfelt catchphrase — “Gizza job” — echoed across a country where more than 3mn were out of work.

Transformed into a funny, punchy, humane two-act play by our leading political playwright, James Graham, it comes roaring across the footlights to speak to a society still affected by the stark shifts of the 1980s and struggling with its own cost of living crisis, precarious employment, crumbling public services and a profound lack of faith in institutions. Some specifics may have changed; the human cost has not.

Kate Wasserberg’s production, first staged at Liverpool’s Royal Court last September, now arrives on the National Theatre’s huge main stage as a febrile election campaign unfolds. Seen here, a stone’s throw from parliament, the piece takes on a national character and joins other recent state-of-the-nation dramas — Nye, Dear England, Small Island, Standing at the Sky’s Edge — to ask how we got here and, significantly, where we head next.

Graham, adapting for the stage with Bleasdale, frames his version around two critical deaths and a personal dilemma that crystallises the impossible moral choices facing the men. The five unemployed tarmac-layers (the blackstuff of the title) are signing on to receive unemployment benefit, but also working cash-in-hand on a dodgy building site. When the fraud officers catch up with them, their boss makes one worker, Chrissie, an offer that is hard to refuse. Chrissie, a gentle soul, played touchingly here by Nathan McMullen, struggles with his loyalties.

Set against his quiet agonising we have Yosser’s painful volatility as the loss of his job, his wife and his dignity drive him towards breakdown. Barry Sloane is superb, making the role his own. Terrifyingly unpredictable and poignantly desperate, he crashes around the action, pleading, wheedling and headbutting people. He’s a frantic, fragile man: Graham’s version makes plain how this is a story about mental health and male identity as much as economics and politics.

There’s a lovely performance too from Philip Whitchurch as the old dockworker — a decent man, a father figure to the lads and a link with a more solid past. Amy Jane Cook’s set features an empty central playing arena framed by huge industrial cranes, scaffolding and sheets of corrugated iron, while Jamie Jenkin’s videos evoke the Liverpool backdrop and sometimes flood with black as despair overwhelms the men. Wasserberg and an excellent multitasking cast keep the story flowing across the space.

Sometimes the narrative feels unclear and bittier than it might have if Graham had written a stage drama from scratch. And the cast need to ensure every line lands for an audience less attuned to the Liverpudlian accents, particularly for the West End run. But even so, it’s a wonderful, moving play, crackling with the city’s famous gallows humour — “Unemployment is a growth industry” — that puts the human casualties of economic upheaval centre stage.

★★★★☆

National Theatre to June 8, then Garrick Theatre, London, June 13-August 3, nationaltheatre.org.uk