The National Theatre | London's Brutalist Stage
The National Theatre
London's Brutalist Stage
Standing on London's South Bank, surrounded by some of the capital's most famous landmarks, the National Theatre is a building that certainly doesn't try to blend quietly into the background.
It is big, grey, complicated and unmistakably Brutalist.
And I think it is fantastic.
The National Theatre is one of those buildings that seems to change every time you walk around it. From one direction it looks like an enormous concrete fortress. Walk a little further and the whole thing breaks apart into terraces, towers, staircases and horizontal layers.
It is difficult to take in with one photograph.
Perhaps that is exactly what its architect, Sir Denys Lasdun, wanted.
The building was designed during the 1960s and constructed between 1969 and 1976. Today it is recognised as one of the most important post-war public buildings in Britain and has Grade II* listed status.
Sir Denys Lasdun
The architect behind the National Theatre was Sir Denys Lasdun, one of the great names of British post-war architecture.
Lasdun's work can be found elsewhere in London, including his extraordinary Institute of Education on Bedford Way, but the National Theatre is probably the building most people associate with him.
His architecture wasn't about hiding the structure.
Quite the opposite.
At the National Theatre the concrete is exposed, the different levels are clearly visible and the building almost seems to have been assembled from a collection of enormous blocks.
Historic England describes the building as a reinforced-concrete theatre complex with flat roofs, multiple levels, foyers and external walkways.
That sounds fairly straightforward.
Stand in front of it and it is anything but.
Concrete, Concrete and More Concrete
There is absolutely no escaping the concrete at the National Theatre.
It is everywhere.
Walls, columns, terraces, staircases and huge sections of the building are left exposed rather than hidden behind brick, stone or decorative cladding.
For anyone who dislikes Brutalism, I imagine this must be their worst nightmare.
For me, it is precisely what makes the building interesting.
Get close to the concrete and you begin seeing its texture. You can see marks left from its construction and subtle differences across the surfaces.
Then there are the shadows.
This is where the National Theatre really comes alive.
Because the building is made from so many projecting platforms and different levels, sunlight creates enormous areas of light and darkness across the concrete.
It can look completely different depending on the time of day.
On a grey London morning it can appear heavy and almost fortress-like.
Give it strong sunshine and a deep blue sky and suddenly the architecture becomes incredibly dramatic.
Architecture Like a Landscape
One of the cleverest things about the National Theatre is that it isn't really designed as a single solid block.
It feels more like a landscape.
Lasdun created a series of terraces that step down towards the River Thames. The horizontal layers continue around the building and connect the interior spaces with the outside.
You can walk around it, underneath parts of it and across different levels.
There are places where the building almost seems to become part of the South Bank itself.
That is something photographs don't always explain particularly well.
You really need to walk around the National Theatre.
Stand underneath the concrete overhangs and the scale becomes obvious.
Walk along the terraces and suddenly you have views towards the Thames and across London.
Then turn around and you are faced with another enormous wall of concrete.
It is architecture that encourages you to explore it.
Three Theatres Inside
Of course, this enormous concrete structure wasn't created simply to look impressive.
It had a very serious purpose.
The National Theatre was designed around its performance spaces.
The original complex contained three theatres: the Olivier, the Lyttelton and the smaller Cottesloe, which is now known as the Dorfman Theatre.
The Olivier is the largest and sits within one of the building's most dominant sections. The Lyttelton is positioned differently within the overall structure, while the smaller theatre was given its own entrance and foyer.
Historic England records the original Olivier auditorium at 1,165 seats, the Lyttelton at 895 and the original studio theatre at around 400.
What I find particularly interesting is how Lasdun allowed the requirements of the theatres to influence the exterior.
The huge fly towers aren't disguised.
They become part of the architecture.
Once again, the building is showing you how it works.
A Building Made for People
For something that can look so intimidating from a distance, the National Theatre becomes surprisingly welcoming once you start exploring it.
This was never supposed to be a precious building that people simply looked at from across the road.
The foyers, terraces, restaurants, exhibition areas and public spaces were deliberately incorporated into the design.
Historic England's listing describes foyers extending through the height of the building, with exhibition and restaurant spaces arranged across several levels and connecting with the external walkways.
That is important.
The National Theatre wasn't simply designed for people who had bought a theatre ticket.
It was intended to become part of public life on the South Bank.
And it still is.
You can walk past, sit outside, have a drink, meet somebody or simply wander around looking at the architecture.
I rather like that.
Love It or Hate It
Like most great Brutalist buildings, the National Theatre has divided opinion almost from the beginning.
Some people see a masterpiece.
Others see a concrete monstrosity.
There probably isn't much middle ground.
Personally, I would rather have buildings like this than endless anonymous glass boxes.
The National Theatre has personality.
You could show me a small section of one of its terraces or concrete walls and I would probably know exactly where I was looking at.
That is good architecture.
It doesn't necessarily have to be pretty.
It needs to be memorable.
And the National Theatre is certainly memorable.
Photographing the National Theatre
From a photography point of view, this building is an absolute gift.
There are shapes everywhere.
Straight lines, deep shadows, enormous columns, repeating concrete patterns and sections of architecture overlapping one another.
Black and white works brilliantly.
Remove the colour and you are left with the geometry of the building, which makes the Brutalist character even stronger.
But I also like photographing it in colour.
A bright blue sky against the grey concrete can look spectacular, particularly when strong sunlight brings out the texture of the surfaces.
Night is different again.
When the interior lights come on, the building suddenly becomes warmer. The concrete remains dark and imposing outside while the illuminated windows reveal all the activity going on within.
It becomes almost theatrical itself.
Which seems rather appropriate.
Brutalism at the Heart of London
What makes the National Theatre particularly important is its location.
This isn't some forgotten concrete building hidden away on the edge of the city.
It stands directly beside the Thames on one of London's busiest cultural stretches.
Nearby are the Southbank Centre, Royal Festival Hall and other major cultural buildings, with views across the river towards central London.
The South Bank became an important focus for post-war cultural development, particularly following the Festival of Britain in 1951. The National Theatre eventually became another major piece of that evolving architectural landscape.
It is difficult now to imagine the South Bank without it.
Grade II* Listed
The architectural importance of the National Theatre was formally recognised when it was given Grade II* listed status in June 1994.
That protection matters.
Britain has lost a considerable amount of post-war architecture.
For decades, buildings from the 1950s, 60s and 70s were often dismissed simply because they were made from concrete or had fallen out of fashion.
Some deserved criticism.
Others were genuinely important pieces of architecture that disappeared before people began appreciating them again.
Thankfully, the National Theatre isn't going anywhere.
Final Thoughts
The National Theatre is never going to please everyone.
It is far too bold for that.
There is nothing subtle about walking towards an enormous wall of exposed concrete beside the River Thames.
But spend some time with the building and it begins to make sense.
The terraces have a purpose.
The different levels have a purpose.
Even those huge concrete towers are connected to what is happening inside.
For me, this is what makes the National Theatre such an important piece of Brutalist architecture.
It isn't simply a concrete box.
It is a building you can walk around, climb through, sit beside and experience.
More importantly, after half a century it is still doing exactly what it was designed to do.
People are still meeting here.
People are still exploring it.
And, most importantly, people are still watching theatre inside it.
The National Theatre is bold, complicated, occasionally intimidating and completely unmistakable.
It is also one of the great surviving monuments of British Brutalism.
And London would be a much less interesting place without it.
By Daren Frankish














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