Radium Girls Spoiler-free Review

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Radium Girls - 9.5 out of 10 stars

Galleon Theatre Group

Radium Girls is a gripping drama, based on the true story of female factory workers poisoned by radium-based paint in 1920s New Jersey. The play centres on three young women hired by the U.S. Radium Corporation to paint watch and instrument dials, instructed to sharpen their brushes by licking the bristles before each stroke. Beneath the glow of innovation lies deceit and tragedy, as science, business, and ambition combine in a story both timely and timeless.

D.W. Gregory’s script, written with warmth, wit, and a sharp moral conscience, examines the commercialisation of science, the exploitation of hope, and the cost of progress measured in human lives.

Director Kym Clayton presents Radium Girls in a consciously Brechtian manner. He invites audiences to think critically, rather than simply lose themselves in the story, aligning with Brecht’s own call for audiences to “observe rather than immerse.” The production’s aesthetic choices—direct address, visible scene changes, minimal props, and deliberate use of costume racks along the wings—reinforce that sense of theatrical transparency. With nine actors portraying over forty characters, Clayton’s direction ensures clarity, contrast, and sustained audience engagement throughout a demanding and complex narrative.

At the heart of the story is Grace Fryer, portrayed with remarkable emotional depth by Lucy Johnson. As the lone survivor determined to seek justice, Johnson anchors the play with understated power. Her transformation—from a hopeful young worker proud of her glowing handiwork to a determined woman confronting systemic failure—is both heartbreaking and inspiring. The gradual deterioration of her health, supported by impressive makeup design, is particularly moving in Act Two. Johnson’s work is full of empathy and purpose, especially in the play’s closing moments, which are both quietly devastating and profoundly human.

Adam Schultz delivers a layered portrayal of Arthur Roeder, the president of U.S. Radium Corporation. His performance balances charm, intellect, and denial, illustrating the devastating impact of moral blindness. Schultz resists the temptation to play Roeder as a straightforward villain; instead, he humanises him as a man trapped by his own ambition, conviction, and fear. His nuanced performance ensures that audiences feel reluctant pity rather than outright hatred—a difficult and commendable feat.

Among the ensemble, Scott Battersby stands out for his versatility, tackling seven very different roles, including Dr. Drink, a fussy Harvard hygienist; Charlie, a corporate executive desperate to contain bad publicity; and a gentle cowboy hopelessly enamoured with Grace. Each role is defined by distinct vocal and physical characteristics, making Battersby’s performance a masterclass in adaptability.

Andrew Horwood also impresses across five sharply contrasted roles. His portrayal of Edward Markley, the coldly pragmatic corporate lawyer, contrasts powerfully with remorseful Dr. Von Sochoky, founder of The U.S. Radium Corporation and creator of the luminous paint. Horwood’s comic turn as the Venecine salesman further demonstrates his range, bringing moments of humour that balance the drama’s intensity.

Aled Proeve takes on four roles—Tom (Grace’s loyal boyfriend), a reporter exchanging witty repartee with Nancy Jane Harlan, attorney Raymond Berry (representing the wronged dial painters), and Dr. Knef, the dentist who first suspects the connection between jaw decay and radium exposure. Each portrayal serves a clear purpose within the story’s moral and emotional tapestry, with Proeve distinguishing them through careful variation and intent.

Deborah Proeve, who shares the stage with her husband Aled, shines across five characters. Her standout performances include Irene Rudolph, the first of the dial painters to die, and Miss Wiley, a key activist with the New Jersey Consumer’s League who champions the girls’ case. Deborah’s graceful physicality and crisp diction lend emotional precision to each role, ensuring all feel lived-in rather than superficial.

Joanne St. Clair steps expertly between five personas, most notably Mrs. Roeder—whose quiet complicity mirrors her husband’s—and Marie Curie, whose misplaced scientific confidence takes on tragic irony in retrospect. St. Clair portrays both women with distinct voices and presences, embodying two faces of the early 20th-century mindset: one domestic, one intellectual, both ultimately compromised by systemic denial.

Deborah Walsh’s five roles, including Mrs. Fryer (Grace’s devoted mother), journalist Nancy Jane Harlan, and the officious factory supervisor Mrs. MacNeil, are all impeccably defined. Walsh’s brisk pacing, articulation, and emotional clarity make each appearance memorable. She finds humour and humanity in unexpected places—balancing the play’s serious subject matter with lightness where needed.

Rounding out the ensemble, Veronika Wlodarczyk makes a lasting impact through her five portrayals, most notably as Kathryn, Grace’s best friend, whose tragic death at only twenty-five underscores the terrible human toll. Despite limited stage time, Wlodarczyk’s sincerity and presence ensures her other roles are profoundly felt throughout the second act.

The production’s visual world amplifies its themes beautifully. The stage is dominated by a tilted clock face on a platform—a haunting emblem of time and decay—sitting upon a second dial below. This striking set design immediately draws the eye, working symbolically as well as practically. Costume racks along the wings are cleverly integrated into the play’s action, reinforcing Clayton’s stylistic transparency. The lighting design employs cool blue hues to mark moments of revelation, while the ominous ticking of the sound design serves as a constant reminder of mortality and inevitability.

Transitions between scenes are smoothly executed, though occasionally a slightly brisker rhythm might have maintained stronger narrative drive. The overall flow remains tight given the play’s ambitious, multi-year timeline. Clayton’s direction ensures emotional clarity without sacrificing thematic complexity.

The performance space contributes to the experience. Galleon’s cabaret-style and raked seating options both offer excellent sightlines, helping maintain intimacy even amid the play’s sweeping historical scope. The production invites audiences not merely to observe but to reflect, succeeding in its Brechtian intent.

By its conclusion, Radium Girls achieves something rare—a historical drama that feels urgent, relevant, and profoundly moving. Every element, from Clayton’s focused direction to Gregory’s acerbic yet compassionate script, reinforces the resilience of ordinary individuals confronting systemic injustice.

Galleon Theatre Group once again proves its capacity for ambitious, intelligent storytelling. Radium Girls is a triumph of ensemble craft—sharp, human, and thought-provoking—a poignant reminder that behind every “miracle discovery” lies the cost of those who first dared to believe.

On a personal note, prior to experiencing this stage production, I have heard about the Radium Girls through THREE different podcast channels. Feel free to check them out for further exploration:

- Andrew Broadbent

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