Nye, National Theatre review - Michael Sheen's full-blooded Bevan, indomitable father of the NHS, returns to the Olivier

The National Health Service was established seventy-seven years ago this month. Resident doctors are about to strike for more pay, long waiting lists for hospital treatment and the scarcity of GP appointments continue to dog political conversation, while the need for reform of the system provides a constant background hum.

The idea for a national health service free at the point of need was always ambitious and remains challenging, but the NHS has become a cross between a religion and a beloved – if problematic – family. And it still deserves to be celebrated as it is here, even ending with some congratulatory statistics. In Michael Sheen's blazing interpretation, its father is unwavering, emotional, arrogant, determined and impatient. It is an unforgettable performance.

Dressed in hospital pyjamas, Sheen's Bevan tells his story – early life, marriage and intellectual discovery as well as political battles – in a morphine haze. He is dying. This format allows writer Tim Price and director Rufus Norris to have some fun with cartoon-like scenes and characters: this may be Nye's biography, but we are encountering it through his hallucinations. A bullying schoolmaster is trounced by his pupils as they form a jostling collective barrier to defend the stammering Nye from the cane. In the miners' library, where his loyal friend Archie (Jason Hughes) introduces him to alternative words to those he can't easily speak, books obligingly present themselves. Political rivals and enemies become laughable caricatures who, nevertheless, make their points: moustachioed Chamberlain (Nicholas Khan) is snobbishly dismissive and gleefully waves his piece of paper; newly elected Prime Minister Attlee (Stephanie Jacob), sitting behind a desk apparently zigzagging of its own accord, plays politics, giving Nye Ministry of Health and Housing to keep the party's left onside; Herbert Morrison (Jon Furlong) is both playfully humorous and malevolent as he tries to prevent local health services being replaced by a national system.

Tony Jayawardena, plumply swaggering as Churchill (above left) in his role as popular war leader, persuades Bevan – who has been a lone voice against him – to support him when the Americans need to be persuaded of unity. American money is required for post-war rebuilding, including (although this is left unspecified) for the health service.

The setting up of the NHS, as the play reaches its climax in the second half, lends itself less well to the playful format. Individuals complain of unmet need in their dozens and doctors form faceless, monochrome ranks on screen refusing to bend to new ways of thinking. The concessions made to the British Medical Association to get the Bill through Parliament are rather rushed. 

This is a play about a hero and he takes centre stage throughout, but it is also a slick ensemble piece in which Churchill can become a doctor in moments, Nye's West Indian nurse (Kezrena James) is also his Welsh sister Arianwen, and everyone is patient, doctor or politician as required. This seems fitting for Bevan's achievement: no doubt he enjoyed his pre-eminence, but everything he stood for came from a belief in collective action. At one point there is an energetic, full cast number, reminiscent of The Singing Detective: "Forget your troubles, c'mon get happy" joyfully choreographed by Steven Hoggett and Jess Williams.

Nye's wife, the fiery Scottish MP Jennie Lee, is vividly played by Sharon Small (below) with a mixture of sharp resentment at what she has given up to be his partner and deep sadness at what she is about to lose. After Nye's death Lee went on to have a stellar career, building the Arts Council and the Open University, but there is no place for that here.

Vicki Mortimer's design cleverly allows for company work and swift scene changes on the Olivier stage by making hospital beds and curtains do duty in a variety of ways, including as House of Commons benches. Paule Constable's lighting can quickly suggest a mine, the terrace of the House of Commons or a hospital ward.

A joint production – Rufus Norris's last as the NT's Artistic Director – with the Millennium Centre in Cardiff, Nye is also the hundredth NT Live. In the foyer of the National Theatre an installation, 100 VOICES NHS, by Sound Voice brings the subject back to the present and to real people using and working in the modern health service, the cultural descendants of Nye.

• Nye at the National Theatre until 16 August 2025
• More theatre reviews on theartsdesk

@heathermneill