As avid Arden-readers will know, Peter Brook wrote an open letter to Shakespeare in 1957 “giving us full marks for saving your dreadful play”.
You know you’re onto a loser when (and I counted) five audience members are asleep during your one-hour production.
JamJar’s follow up to Following Wendy is a disappointment on the scale of Grease 2, The Matrix Reloaded and Godfather 3 combined.
The spirit of John Webster has never been better captured than in the rat-jabbing guttersnipe seen in Shakespeare in Love.
The Assembly’s Bosco space is a strange one - one part church, one part yurt - it hints at tent revivalism with a Romany aesthetic.
I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was, but it happened at 11am in the dark recesses of C’s soco building.
EGTG are not your average fringe company.
It is the mark of truly great theatre when the audience leave the auditorium and cannot stop talking about the play.
For all the excellent performances and wonderfully controlled aesthetic, this production amounts to nothing more than average; because it’s Belt Up, that’s disappointing.
A Day In November is a beautifully controlled and tenderly delivered reflection on the mind’s descent towards death.
Two of my favourite things are Les Enfants Terribles and Theatre of the Absurd.
‘I am not mad’ trills a terrific Tim Crouch, commencing a thoroughly engaging hour of intelligently devised and wonderfully executed theatre.
The short audience queue didn’t bode well for Babbling Comedy 2 (when playing for laughs, a C of empty seats is a performer’s worst nightmare), and I found myself preparing to …