Reviews by Richard Beck

With a head full of songs to which she has to give voice, Allegra swans around her village causing distress to all the miserable, grumpy and easily upset locals who despise her lack of conformity to social norms. They resent her cheerfulness and the way she tries to spread her glee, while she sees herself as performing a service to the community by brightening their days.Dame Maureen Lipman, in the eponymous role, clearly relishes every minute of playing such an innocently mischievous character and, as a consequence, her infectious joy flows off the stage, enveloping us in two hours of delightful situation comedy, brimming with classic English humour, courtesy of Peter Quilter’s profound understanding of what makes us laugh. The show has a pace worthy of a farce and contains nods to that genre, thanks to the astute direction of Stephen Mear, who is also responsible for choreographing the highly entertaining song-and-dance routines that permeate the show and venture into every corner of Justin Williams’ charming country-house set. He also designed the vividly coloured costumes that give Allegra an added air of eccentricity.Brimming with so many tunes, Allegra sometimes recedes into her own fantasy world while others are talking to her. As she does, lighting designs by Samuel Biondolillo, with sound by Russell Ditchfield, transform the set as projected leaves descend and dancing tulips appear while she bursts into that old Tiptoe favourite. Complaints from the neighbours, people in the library, the hairdressers and local shoppers reach a point where she is ultimately given a judicial order to desist and is placed on medication that destroys all the life in her.She’d been warned that this might happen by her long-suffering brother, Ronen, charmingly played by John Middleton in a caring role riddled with frustration at dealing with Allegra. He employs a Czech housekeeper, Anna, played with firm compassion by Elizabeth Bower, to bring some semblance of order to his sister's life. Somewhat surprisingly, Allegra gets on well with Anna. Interrupting the domesticity, Officer Rogers makes several visits to the house to explain how Allegra's behaviour is increasingly being brought to the attention of the police. Bailey Patrick, as a stereotypical village bobby, is both serious and comical as he becomes drawn into this bizarre world.Among all the humour there is a serious but unstated undercurrent of issues relating to old age and mental health, which those looking for more meat among the light-hearted frivolity of Allegra might like to ponder. No doubt some will criticise Quilter for not making the play more sensitive to these issues, but this is escapist entertainment, almost of a bygone age, and not the soul-searching angst of most modern drama. To that end, sit back, enjoy the show and wonder at the marvellous Dame Maureen, who celebrated her 80th birthday last month.Following this week’s run at Richmond Theatre, the play goes on tour until its limited West End run at the Harold Pinter Theatre, starting on 8 July.

The UK première of An Audience with Abraham Lincoln, at Greenwich Theatre, also marks solo performer Jacob Truax’s first professional engagement in this country.Truax is an award-winning Lincoln interpreter recognised for his rigorous historical research and detailed knowledge of the 16th president’s life. This is evidenced throughout the play, with references to the minutiae of ‘Honest Abe’s’ early life, the positions he held, his rise from humble rural beginnings, and the career-changing encounters that led to him becoming a lawyer and politician.A front-of-house announcement before the performance explained that Truax would have to take a break before the end of his 75-minute monologue in order to accommodate the interval of the main-house show, which would create disruptive noise in the adjacent bar. This seemed to be something of a programming error on the part of the theatre, breaking the continuity of the storyline and disrupting his flow. It took him a while to regain his concentration thereafter.Lincoln was known for his storytelling and for relating anecdotes in order to make political and moral points. We hear several of these, some of which were clearly meant to be humorous but, for the most part, raised no more than a smile or a chuckle. In comedic terms, they largely fell flat.Increasingly, the performance became more of a costumed lecture delivered in the first person than a piece of theatre, the narrative being delivered in an almost uniformly soft voice, even when reciting some of the anticipated great speeches. These included Lincoln’s Lecture on Law, the House Divided speech, the Second Inaugural Address and the famous Gettysburg Address. It was often hard to distinguish where one ended and another began in vocal terms.The narrative moved chronologically, but little possessed the rousing tension or excitement found in works such as Doris Kearns Goodwin’s Team of Rivals. Lincoln’s genius in navigating the complexities of assembling his first post-election cabinet is barely addressed. Some tragedies of his private life are related, but his love for his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, seems underplayed. The tragedy of his assassination is, of course, absent, as this is an encounter with the living man.The ponderous historical narrative is not helped by the lack of movement direction, which consists of little more than a couple of steps back and forth between a seat and a table. Meanwhile, the fixed lighting often leaves Truax half-lit or in shadow.An Audience with Abraham Lincoln ends up as a drawn-out talk about one of the most important US presidents of all time, one that fails to ignite enthusiasm or sympathy for its subject and that requires substantial editorial and directorial input if it is to have real impact as a solo show.

Last year, Chris Sainton-Clark filled Prague Fringe Festival’s largest venue, Malostranská beseda, with his hugely successful and highly entertaining Tales from a British Country Pub, for which he deservedly picked up the 2025 Creative Award in recognition of his remarkable inventiveness; one of 12 theatre awards he now possesses.The show had a simple formula. Draw on your years of working behind the bar, observing and listening to customers from all walks of life. Eavesdrop on them, engage with them, note their idiosyncrasies and quirky behaviour, and use your comprehensive ability with words to form narratives in rhyming couplets. Combine your virtuoso talent as a lyricist, singer, guitarist and composer to create songs that form a highly amusing hour’s entertainment that everyone can identify with.He continued touring the show around the UK and then went on to a sell-out run in venues all around New Zealand, picking up multiple awards along the way and many more stories. The boundaries of his material have now gone beyond the pub to include encounters with people rooted in everyday life and situations occurring on his travels. Hence this year he was back in Prague with his sequel, appropriately and simply called More Pub Tales with Chris Sainton-Clark.The show contains some of the most popular material from the original and remains true to form, bearing his hallmark blend of guitar-backed songs with cutting lyrics that lay bare the human condition. We are introduced to Paul, the classic pub geezer, and Bob, who loudly displayed his bright red Arsenal shirt while cruising up the stunning Milford Sound with his back to the most spectacular scenery. More amusement comes from New Zealand in Confusing Interactions I’ve Had With Kiwis; an exposé of the pitfalls of not fully tuning in to their vowel sounds. Folks from the USA also come in for some stick in A British Bartender’s Guide to Americans.These and many more acutely observant pieces keep the light-hearted show rolling along with our host’s charismatic charm. There are a number of opportunities to see him on tour around the country and he’ll also be in Edinburgh again for the Fringe, where, additionally, he is performing his gripping five-star crime drama, The Night Ali Died.

There’s a particular thrill when a classic story is stripped back and submitted to the craft of an outstanding single performer. In The Hunchback of Notre Dame, at Studio A Rubin as part of Prague Fringe, the master of solo performance, Pip Utton, delivers another triumph from his series of towering characters that have included Lear, Churchill, Chaplin and many others.As we enter, Utton is there, barefoot, dressed in shabby sackcloth and holding a small posy of white flowers. His back is towards us, revealing the hunch that dictated how the world viewed Quasimodo. He looks to the ground, his stare transfixed by the body of his beloved Esmeralda, one of the few people ever to show compassion towards him. He mourns her loss, turns and then takes us back in time until his life story is fully revealed and we return to the present and the tale's tragic ending.Throughout, he remains utterly immersed in the character of Quasimodo, drawing us into his sad life in a manner that is immediate, intimate and emotionally devastating. His voice is the only sound we hear except for the timely introduction of the famous bells of Notre Dame; bells that had caused his severely impaired hearing, but which, in the absence of people, had become dear friends, each lovingly named and called upon to perform. He looks down on the streets of Paris and observes the everyday life from which he is excluded; the interactions from which he is prohibited and the encounters with friends which he is denied.His narrative is richly textured, full of heartache and longing, replete with reminiscences and recollections of childhood, of the loves that might have been and the painful details of the flogging he received when he made a rare venture onto the streets and was arrested. This is no grotesque caricature, but the portrayal of a painfully isolated soul with deep feelings and yearnings, who can yet find wit and humour in the misery of existence. This is all conveyed through the power of a meticulously performed character study of small gestures, little steps and the humility of a mostly bowed head, in which the slightest movement or change of voice can transform a scene, turning individuals into crowds with ease. He also allows himself the occasional enraged outburst.It's a superbly balanced performance, precisely what Utton has become famous for, and despite all his claims to be retiring, we look forward to seeing him at many more Fringes in Prague, where he's been coming for 23 years, and at others around Europe.

Contracting scabies and the death of a Siamese fighting fish are the somewhat minor incidents that set in motion a series of chaotic events with disastrous consequences in Mark O’Rowe’s visceral drama Howie the Rookie at The Cockpit Theatre, in collaboration with Burning Coal Theatre for their biennial UK visit, directed by Jerome Davis.The drama unfolds in two fast-paced, intense monologues set over an action-packed 24 hours. In part one we meet the scabies-riddled Howie Lee (Lucius Robinson), who is trying to track down The Rookie Lee (Andrew Price Carlile), from whose old infested mattress he contracted the condition. He intends to “give him a hiding” for the discomfort he is enduring. In the second half it’s the turn of The Rookie Lee to give his side of the story, but mostly to explain his own troubles in finding the money to repay Ladyboy, whose expensive fighting fish he killed in an unfortunate accident. Here, it seems, not even the fish can live in peace.Both actors give powerful performances. Robinson, playing the rougher of the two, relishes the seediness of the role, immersing himself in all the filth and sexual depravity of everyday life, along with the essential threats, violence and aggression that come with the territory. Price Carlile plays a softer role that relies more on charm and good looks to survive, while suffering the panic of a repayment deadline he has little hope of meeting. They each introduce us to some eccentric characters and mingle humour with wounded pride in a plot that ultimately ends in tragedy.The action takes place in Dublin’s gritty underworld. It is here the production falls short, despite the masterful performances of both actors. Their utterances have a generic Irish sound to them but are lacking in precision. The tones and lilt of Dublin are missing. Some sentences are rendered unintelligible and trying to grasp what is going on, particularly in the first half, is very difficult.The level of effort and concentration required to understand what is being said and to follow the story is way beyond what should be necessary to appreciate the play.

The double bill of political satires by the award-winning Polish playwright Sławomir Mrożek at The Golden Goose Theatre date from when the country formed part of the Soviet Union. Charlie and Striptease, written in 1961, are examples of his distinctive blend of absurdity and social commentary.Director Orsolya Nagy says, “The Theatre of the Absurd in East-Central Europe carried a critical political statement and reflected on the absurdity of life in the communist era.” Although times and circumstances have changed, the power of regimes, threats to civil liberties and the controlling arm of the state still make them relevant today.The parts in Charlie and Striptease are respectively played as follows: Occulist/Man 1, Rowland D. Hill; Grandson/Man 2, Simon Brandon; Grandfather/Hand 1, Kenneth Michaels; and Hand 2, Orsolya Nagy. In both, lighting designer Matthew Biss successfully sets the required mood.Charlie opens with the rather posh Occulist semi-recumbent, reading and snacking on his sofa. He is disturbed by a loud banging on the door. He lets in the old man, armed with a hunting rifle, and his grandson. They have come to kill Charlie, but wouldn’t know him if they saw him, and the Occulist assures them that he doesn’t live here. Through a series of bizarre conversations the Occulist is drawn into the ludicrous situation, becoming part of the scheme. Ultimately he accepts the outrageous as normal and effectively becomes a co-conspirator.In Striptease, two strangers walk through streets of dense fog and enter a room through opposite doors. It is empty, but for two dining chairs. They carry matching briefcases and are dressed identically in dark suits, white shirts and black ties, even down to the red and white striped underwear; the colours of the Polish flag (intentional or just coincidence?). We know this because a mysterious hand, that silently protrudes from the wings, gestures that they are to divest themselves one item at a time.Why they are there remains a mystery. Any thoughts of leaving are quashed when the doors lock, but the situation initiates a debate about the nature of choice and free will that is ultimately brought to nought by the controlling hand, to whom they succumb.Michaels brings comic relief to Charlie, while Brandon confidently delivers the absurdist thrust of non-sequiturs to the nervous and jittery Hill, who tries to accommodate his nonsense. He contrasts this performance in Striptease with a deadpan logicality that pleads for rationality against Brandon’s angst-driven Man 2.In two disparate situations, each play allows for interpretations of the exercise of power, the weight of coercion, the nature of authoritarianism and how people can be manipulated and controlled. The plays fall short of the advertised “riotous comedy”, which a different approach might have produced, but they do contain “wit and humour” as promised. They also present a rare opportunity to see these works and be transported into an age when innovative theatre challenged regimes.

For those who enjoy a play open to multiple interpretations, the otherwise simple story of SMOKE, directed by Campbell X at the Omnibus Theatre, Clapham, allows for ample speculation.The publicity tells us that writer/performer Alexis Gregory makes a return to the stage with “his most daring and uncompromising work to date, confronting the hardest issues currently facing the queer community, head-on.” Maybe. The event consists of his performance and a post-show discussion with a panel of contributors in partnership with the LGBTQ+ non-profit organisation You Are Loved, who explore the show’s themes.Most of that discussion on this night focused on the issue of chemsex, which is certainly an important element of the play and may be interpreted as a drug-induced delusion. Wider issues of access to sexual health information and the nature of relationships were also considered. That session is an optional extra once the play is over.The casual, conversational opening of SMOKE is heightened in its laid-back style by the interesting directorial decision to run the whole play with the house lights on full. It creates an up-close storytelling atmosphere, enhanced by Gregory’s walks up and down the aisle, but detracts from the sense of theatre, performance and mystery. The rather abrupt and fleeting last scene is the only exception to this.Alex reveals that he has received an Instagram DM from his boyfriend, who has been dead for two years. He shows it to people in the front few rows to establish its authenticity. But in the world of social media messaging, anything is possible. Is it really a new message, one that has just popped up from the past, or part of a phantasmagorical world in which he struggles to come to terms with his partner’s death in a psychotic malaise? You decide. These optional interpretations run through the entire play: scenes in the café, which have some delightful comic moments; visits to his boyfriend’s mother; encounters with the man whom he believes to be the person who sent him the message. Is this world real or a fantasy?SMOKE, we are told, draws on Gregory’s “particularly brutal experience of an online hack and several years observing addiction and the mental health crises within the LGBTQ+ community, particularly with many young gay men in this technological age.” As such, it is to be respected as a worthy solo performance and deeply personal testimony about important issues.

An inspired piece of programming by director Claire Evans sees Misconduct by Dom Riley and Ladykiller by Madeline Gould paired in a double bill entitled He Said/She Said, at The White Bear Theatre.The concern with running two plays together by different authors, with separate casts, is that one will overshadow the other. That issue was heightened after the towering performance by Gwithian Evans as Richie in Misconduct. “Follow that,” was the thought that came to mind. It took no more than a highly charged entrance, with face, hands and clothing covered in blood, combined with the forceful delivery of opening lines, to demonstrate that Geebs Marie Williams as Her in Ladykiller was going to more than match the pre-interval show. Even though the gender of the actor, the location and the circumstances change, these plays and actors feel as though they were made to go together and be performed in this order. With the common theme of a knife attack occurring towards the end of Misconduct and at the opening of Ladykiller, it’s rather like picking up where we left off.These are not plays tackling systemic knife crime and remain two very different works that are ultimately concerned with the exploration of two individuals, their mindsets and how a solitary act can change their lives for ever.Male bonding and the challenges of friendship permeate Misconduct. Richie is distressed by the knowledge that his best mate at school is heading off to university, leaving him behind with lesser prospects and also breaking up the group. In a farewell outing they set out on the train to Leeds for a big away game. As their journey progresses, aggression and hooliganism emerge on the train and at Elland Road, before the fatal crime occurs almost out of nowhere and Richie is faced with the devastating consequences of an action which he underplays through self-deception. It’s a male story by a male writer.Ladykiller, on the other hand, is about a female and is written by a female. It places the character known just as Her at the centre of a gruesome hotel murder. In a single frenzied act of grotesque violence her simple life as a chambermaid is destroyed. However, her attempts to rationalise her behaviour and the ideas she has for escaping detection reveal that she has deep-rooted psychological issues that form a disconnect between what she has done and its consequences. Like Richie, she creates a gulf between feeling guilt and the acceptance of responsibility.Both actors sustain an impassioned level of performance that is truly remarkable. They are unyielding and unwavering in their commitment to the roles and exude breathtaking energy. Powerful direct addresses are balanced with moments of calmer introspection but, for the most part, with Evans we are carried along on both a literal and mental journey at breakneck speed and with Williams we are plunged into a fiery, fervent and vehement malaise of rage and delusion.The intensity is heightened by the confines of The White Bear Theatre and its inescapable intimacy. Evans’ direction uses every inch of space, with movements darting in all directions, thus overcoming the complexity of seating on two sides at right angles to each other. Both actors engage with us at all times, wherever we might be seated. Meanwhile, Jan Giedroyc‘s evocative soundscape is timed with staggering precision to the phrasings and delivery of the scripts, raising the dramatic stakes even higher in harmony with the lighting direction and technical DSM work by Marta Fossati, who changes designer David Fitzhugh’s appropriately functional and unobtrusive set with an array of colours.              This double bill is a stunning double treat.

Marking 15 years since Thrill Me: The Leopold & Loeb Story made its London premiere, the musical is revived at Waterloo East Theatre, directed by Gerald Armin with musical direction by Richard Seaman.The theatre world is awash with musicals and it’s easy to wonder whether there is anything that cannot be told through the genre. Stephen Dolginoff certainly stretched the boundaries when he came up with the book, music and lyrics for a show that relates the true story of a 14-year-old boy’s murder.Nathan Leopold (Jamie Kaye) stands before the parole board, yet again, after 30 years’ incarceration for the crime in which he was complicit. As the voice-over officer (Richard Cunningham) questions him about his current state of remorse, he re-enacts episodes of the crime with its instigator, Richard Loeb (Rufus Kampa).They were both brilliant, highly educated and privileged young men about to set out on successful careers as Chicago lawyers. Yet both were deeply flawed individuals. Loeb initially got his thrills from petty crime, which had to keep escalating in order to get a satisfactory buzz. Arson developed into pyromania with its associated sexual gratification. Then he discovered the writings of Nietzsche and cast himself as a superior man, infallible, untouchable and not bound by society’s norms.Leopold was obsessed with him and overwhelmingly sexually attracted to him. Loeb went along with this, but only as a tool of control, rationing favours in return for compliance in his criminality, including the plot to commit the perfect, undetectable murder. What does not emerge until the story of their arrest and imprisonment unfolds is the undermining counterplot so carefully executed by Leopold to meet his own ends.This minimalist production relies on six sets of independently located blocks to create levels. The absence of a naturalistic set hampers immersion in the period, locations and reality of the story. Consequently, lighting by Jonathan Simpson, while changing the moods, has little to work off. Penny Topsom fares better with the costumes that capture the period and, in the case of Loeb, highlight his posh, flamboyant characteristics.Kampa and Kaye competently deliver the vocals with clarity, against a basic piano accompaniment, but the chemistry between them often seems thin, emotionally restrained and lacking menace, all of which undermine the complex, manipulative nature of their relationship.Will it thrill you? Probably not, but it is an opportunity to see how this extraordinary story became transformed into a musical.

Inspiration comes in many forms for playwrights, and the experience of becoming a father was the perfect stimulus for Nathan Scott-Dunn to pen his latest drama and make his debut at Òran Mór with Un-Expecting, as part of A Play, A Pie and A Pint’s Spring 2026 season, supported by Creative Scotland.Speaking of the life-changing event and the play, he says, “Becoming a parent completely changed how I see the world and it made me think a lot about how we talk about parenthood in society, especially when it isn’t neat or planned. Un-Expecting is messy, lyrical and full of humour, but at its heart it’s about what happens when real life refuses to follow the fairy-tale version we’re usually sold.”That’s it in a nutshell. It’s a simple story told by two characters on a specially constructed thrust stage that provides the up-close intimacy the play requires. It’s a functional, non-distracting, versatile set of plain black rostra with a couple of moveable, multipurpose black boxes and two neon strip lights either side of four translucent screens that enable silhouette scenes, courtesy of set and costume designer Heather Grace Currie. A standard glitter ball with associated lighting creates the disco scene where Scott (Cristian Ortega) and Jess (Cindy Awor) meet and exchange their first tentative words.Scott is rather lacking in confidence when it comes to dancefloor social interaction, but when he sees Jess he can’t resist making a move. They end up nervously chatting on a bench outside, and clearly Jess has this planned better than Scott. They go back to her place, where they discover that he has forgotten to do one of the few things his father ever taught him: always go out prepared. With minimal risk assessment, the condomless night ensues, as does the surprise pregnancy.Debates follow about what to do. We gain insights into the trials of carrying a child and giving birth, of dealing with other people’s opinions and managing coping mechanisms. Scott is reaching the end of his music degree in London. He’s desperate to graduate but also wants to be with Jess. Another issue is carefully woven into the story here. Parenthood comes with responsibilities. Scott was only six years old when his father left home, and he is determined to be a better, more responsible man than he was, so his time away weighs heavily.Awor and Ortega are two powerful performers who deliver with unfaltering passion and sincerity, giving captivating credibility to their characters. The richness of his accent from Edinburgh and hers from Glasgow adds to the idiosyncratic, beat-poetry style in which Scott-Dunn writes. Rhymes abound in the verse-dominated script, and yet he is such a master of this style that it seems completely natural as a speech form: it’s just the way the characters speak. But it adds momentum, which, combined with the precise timing the actors possess, makes for a fast-moving story enhanced by lines started by one of them and finished by the other, and dialogue interspersed with direct address. There are many very funny moments of laugh-out-loud humour contrasted with several intensely emotional, tear-jerking scenes that together reflect the highs and lows of life.Maximising the outstanding talents of Awor and Ortega, director Edoardo Berto has lifted this gem of a script off the page and managed the diverse elements of the play, its staging and the performances with focused clarity of purpose and cohesiveness to deliver an hour of joyous theatre.

The themes that permeate Greek tragedy are timeless. Every age has been able to identify with the great issues that confronted the classical writers and this is made abundantly clear in Iphigenia at the Arcola Theatre. Based on the story by Euripides, this English version is by Stephen Sharkey and is adapted and directed by Serdar Biliş. However, the promise of an exciting new take on the ancient myth fails to materialise.There's a gimmicky introduction that would have made more sense had it been part of a bookend device, but that didn't materialise. Instead it is a very weak scene by way of a mobile phone conversation Simon Kunz has with his son while explaining that he’d forgotten it was his turn to set the stage for the play. This includes rolling out the carpets that transform Set and Costume Designer, Mona Camille’s glossy ‘sea’ into an interior space. With that nonsensical opening out of the way, he then dons a formal military jacket as Agamemnon.Agamemnon's duty is to redeem the honour of Greece against the Trojans or face revolt by his troops, but his fleet cannot set sail without the fair wind that the gods control. Their price is that he sacrifice his daughter. His torment and conflicted position are the heart of the story. In an attempt to place his internal strife within a wider context, devices are employed that detract from this rather than assist the debate.Projections of womenm from around the world mgiving their views on war and the loss of loved ones disrupt the flow of the play and add nothing to the storyline, but rather form a documentary commentary on the tragic plight of families in regions of conflict. Similarly, when the cast break out of character in asides that tell personal stories of growing up in relation to parents and domestic strife, the connections are too loose to impact the great Greek tale.The main story is woven amid these interruptions, seemingly making it difficult for the cast to maintain emotional involvement and credibility. Rather, they seem to have distraught set pieces while pleading their causes and debating the issues. Kunz, not surprisingly, dominates, but overwhelmingly appears as a general who would direct from behind the lines at GHQ rather than brandish his sword leading the troops into battle. Mithra Malek plays a devoted and dutiful Iphigenia trying to reconcile herself to the situation while Indra Ové is a distraught yet assertive Clytemnestra. The underused resource is Cretan-born singer and composer Kalia Lyraki, whose pipe-playing is a prelude to the action and her only song has the air of a lament. She could have made a fitting chorus in a differently constructed play. The plot ultimately becomes confused as an alternative ending, where eagles appear and a deer replaces Iphigenia, is tangled with a version in which she is sacrificed. Yet another unnecessary inclusion in overall disappointing attempt to update the work.

There is a brooding air of mystery delicately placed beneath the seemingly simple surface story of Miraculous at the Red Lion Theatre, Islington.The sound and lighting of the opening suggest a murder mystery or horror of Gothic proportions, and designers Pierre Flasse and Amy Fisher are unrelenting in crafting mood. Yet here we are at a Christian summer camp, so what will unfold over 60 minutes of meetings between young Josh (Luke Stiles), a high schooler brimming with arrogance, insecurity and theological angst, and Paul (Diego Zozaya), his older mentor, a devout young father wrestling with the challenges of spiritual leadership? With each scene the question becomes more pressing. Many possibilities exist, and once the pair have hilariously re-enacted the story of Elijah and the priests of Baal and Paul has introduced Josh to his son, the mystery only deepens. The denouement, however, is almost certainly nothing that comes to mind and avoids obvious and clichéd predictables.Meanwhile, you can enjoy their interactions around sex, belief and divine intervention, along with the embarrassing questioning of someone lured into pouring out more than he ever bargained for, in the reverse of what might be expected. On day one of the camp, Paul has 10 questions for Josh by way of initiating discussion around the religious, personal and moral issues that will occupy the week. Paul has done this many times. He starts out with the confidence of a man whose position places him in control and is ready to receive some stock answers, until the politely unassuming and playfully nonchalant Josh becomes increasingly beguiling, irreverent and cocky, fully turning the tables on him.Yet that is something of a veneer, under which lie insecurities and doubts, particularly about his ability to get on with others. They emerge in passing lines. His parents have decided to holiday at Lake Como without him and send him to camp. There was his cousin’s wedding, which they attended but to which he was not invited. At the camp, despite being appointed dorm captain, he is shunned by the other boys.Paul, too, has his vulnerabilities. When exposed, his marriage has a few surprises and a miracle, while his embodiment of Christian principles turns out to be less than perfect and his use of scripture selective.Stiles and Zozaya give captivating and intriguing performances. They are a well-balanced double act who know how to play off each other while crafting two contrasting characters rooted in Stiles’ distinctive writing. Through precise delivery, they give full vent to the humour, dropping off-the-cuff one-liners while not shying away from depth in emotionally charged scenes.Director Toby Clarke maximises the confines of this theatre, creating identifiable locations and managing movement with natural fluidity. The set, managed by Maia Thompson, allows room for Jon Aaron’s tightly staged fight scene.Miraculous is a refreshing departure from many exhausted contemporary themes, bravely using an overtly religious setting to explore the frailty of human nature.

The District Line will never be the same again, having passed through so many stations with writer/performer Freddie Haberfellner as Frankie on his frenetic ride home from a night of partying.This was an opportunistic one-off performance at Camden People’s Theatre of his show F*ckboy that has travelled to fringe festivals in Prague and Edinburgh and graced venues around the country. Having just used that word, it occurs to me that we talk about gracing somewhere with our presence, which implies not just being there but making a significant contribution to the surroundings, enhancing the setting and making it better than it might otherwise have been. And that is precisely what Haberfellner does, even as Frankie just poses in the corner of the stage waiting for us to take our seats. Dressed in fishnet tights, a low-cut black top and a green jacket, their pale face has glitter-embedded make-up in all the right places that sparkles under the lights. Is this a hooker waiting for passing trade or simply a reveller waiting innocently for the last train?Then blackout, rapidly followed by bright lights and Frankie has come to life on the other side of the stage in an acrobatic freeze-frame. The blackout repeats. They’ve moved again, this time legs spread wide in the air, lying with their back on a chair. It happens twice more and then, alert and gripped by their physicality, we are set to go on a kaleidoscopic, movement-intense and relentlessly action-packed journey with someone who is anything but innocent.Under the imaginative direction of Isobel Jacob every inch of space is used and the high-octane tempo is enhanced by compositions from Marta Miranda and sound design by Gareth Swindail-Parry, while Rowan West’s lighting design colourfully matches the pace and settings.You’re going to be drawn into the story without being picked on, but you might just become a latter-day personification of their fixation with Andrew Garfield or be chosen for a meta-theatrical engagement because it’s time they involved the audience more intimately as one of the characters in the narrative. Just keep your eye on the pair of scissors that hang aloft like the sword of Damocles for symbolic rather than surgical reasons. Although the two come together in what follows, for, like Dionysius, this partygoer who seemingly has everything also has a weighty issue hanging over them.Underpinning all the events is Haberfellner’s existence as a person en route to transitioning, someone in a female body longing to be the man they truly are. Meanwhile life has done anything but grind to a halt for Frankie. On the contrary, like any queer person they are immersed in the scene and every excess it offers. This is not an inward-looking, self-indulgent piece of navel gazing, but rather a celebration of discovery, of gender dysphoria turned on its head, of realising who you are and what you want to be, of knowing that a process, no matter how complex, radical and maybe even dangerous, can set you free and give you a lifetime of being the person you know you should always have been.For those wondering about the name, Haberfellner is Austrian, whose impeccably enunciated English combined with the occasional quaint alien intonation gives his voice a cute charm and turns him into a forceful yet endearing storyteller who relishes all things queer in a performance that gives a whole new meaning to a Viennese whirl!

Heralded as a “sensational UK premiere”, it is hard to imagine that this first trio of plays in the trilogy, America the Beautiful, comes from the pen of Neil LaBute, the man who gave us In the Company of Men and The Shape of Things.To be clear, there are nine works branded as an “exclusive collection of savage short plays offering a uniquely skewed view of life and relationships in the modern world”. They were “written over the past decade for the LaBute New Theater Festival in the US” and are now presented for the first time in three groups of three, produced by Greenwich Theatre for the King’s Head as an initial venture in their new partnership. Described as “chapters”, the first two are being performed at the King’s Head Theatre, while the third can be seen at Greenwich Theatre. The hyperbole surrounding the works continues with a description of chapter one as “a blistering trio of short plays from Neil LaBute that take a radical, bitter view of modern relationships”.Snippets from the conversation between the lovers in Hate Crime suggest that they are up to no good, plotting the demise of pretty boy’s soon-to-be husband in order to make an insurance claim. The stilted, bland and vague dialogue leaves us trying to put the pieces together after an argument about a lost key card to the hotel room, that turns out not to be lost, and a question as to whether Danish pastries come from Denmark (they don’t) and if one filled with cheese is a legitimate variety (only in the USA!). Borris Anthony York is annoyingly coquettish as he wiggles and poses around the room in shorts and a vest, in stark contrast to Liam Jedele’s sinister revelling in the gruesome details of what he will do to the victim to make it look like a hate crime. Then the pair separate, vowing not to meet until the deed is done.In the solo work, Kandahar, York impressively transforms himself into a decorated soldier who served in Afghanistan. He’s seated in the dock, although it could just as easily be a confessional, having taken revenge on his wife and committed several murders motivated by the adultery she committed with a fellow soldier. His static and protracted story and rationale for the crime are almost interesting, even if the conclusion is predictable, but the telling lacks the heightened angst, torment and tension one might hope for in such a tragic tale.With two down and one to go, it’s the turn of the two female actors, Anna María and Maya-Nika Bewley, to assume the stage and give Artistic Director of Greenwich Theatre, James Haddrell, one last chance to make something of LaBute’s writing. The Possible pits a lesbian who has sex on multiple occasions with the boyfriend of the woman she is obsessed with in order to teach her a lesson, in the hope that it will bring the two of them together. Finally we see some emotional engagement in the midst of this unlikely scenario, and moments of humour lighten the improbable situation. It too has a predictable outcome and, while in no way being exceptional, it is the saving grace in a lamentably uninspiring event.

Yiddish writer Isaac Bashevis Singer, who gave us Yentl, said of the Streisand film that it had “nothing but a commercial value” and seriously questioned the “kitsch” ending. The current production by Melbourne’s Kadimah Yiddish Theatre, at Marylebone Theatre, is not that musical. Instead, we have a tragic play of enormous complexity that sees faith, longing, gender, desire and sacred learning intertwined in an emotional outpouring.  This international premiere reunites the acclaimed Australian creative team of co-writers Gary Abrahams (director) Galit Klas and Elise Hearst, with set and costume design by Dann Barber, lighting design by Rachel Burke, and original composition and sound design by Max Lyandvert. The Yiddish translation is by Professor Rivke Margolis. For this staging of the UK premiere, originals have been adapted. The stark simplicity of the set and traditional costumes by Isabella Van Braecke, ensuring that our attention is kept focused on the story, which is enhanced by the subtle tones of Julian Starr’s abstract soundscape, also saw drawing on Jewish tradition, and the rich, sultry mood lighting by Tom Turner. Yentl is overwhelmed by her love of God, her adherence to her faith and her hunger for Torah – for the knowledge that will make her life complete. The only obstacle is being a woman and, as such, someone who has no access to the yeshiva and no opportunity to debate with rabbis. Her solution is to assume the guise of a man and, in so doing, challenge her conscience in order to follow her passion. She crosses boundaries not in an act of contempt for tradition but because she wants to be immersed in it and, in so doing, leads herself into agonising situations of dishonesty and betrayal, creating the classic dilemma of whether the end justifies the means.Amy Hack is captivating in her multifaceted performance as Yentl. She oozes intelligence, is consumed by an inner fire of spiritual restlessness, wounded by emotional attachment and scarred by deceit. She carries us with her on every inch of her painful journey as she battles under the guise of her invented scholar, Anshel.Much of the struggle whirling around in her head is highlighted in a remarkable performance of impish agility by Evelyn Krape, in a newly created character arising from the Yetzer Hara concept – the force of desire that, when left unchecked, can lead to destruction. Known simply as The Figure, she hovers as narrator, tempter, alter ego, provocateur and shadow self, with an Ariel-like presence, giving psychological depth and visibility to Yentl’s inner turmoil.The interpersonal complexities of Yentl’s situation begin when she is adopted as a study partner by Avigdor. This academic arrangement is soon overwhelmed by intense feelings for each other, he believing her to be a woman. Now we see the queer undercurrent emerging that persists to the end and deserves an essay of its own. Ashley Margolis brings warmth, vitality and emotional energy to the role in a thoroughly masculine yet charming performance.The love triangle is completed by Hadass, whose engagement to Avigdor falls victim to circumstances. Genevieve Kingsford’s beautifully understated portrayal is full of tenderness, innocence and openness of heart.Both the breadth and depth of this play are quite remarkable, providing food for thought and reflection long after the curtain comes down. There is something of an imbalance between the energy of the two acts, but it will go down as a truly memorable production that is compelling, intelligent and often haunting.

Hyped as a “chilling ghost story” in which the “terror continues” with “atmospheric horror”, “dark humour and spine-tingling moments”, It Walks Around the House at Night at Southwark Playhouse might well disappoint those who expect a spine-chilling drama full of startling surprises and moments of heart-palpitating shock.However, if you are content with a well-told story built around an ancient manor, a noble family, a ghostly invention and a scheme involving young men lured into the woods by an attractive older man in order to sustain a wealthy family’s respectability, then this might be for you.Wigan-based ThickSkin’s production has many strengths, and creating a piece in this genre requires exceptional creatives who can fill our imaginations with the image of a grand location in an eerie woodland alongside a humble room in a cottage. Darkness pervades, both inside and out. The simple open-plan cottage set by Neil Bettles and Tom Robbins has a basic bed with a table lamp beside it that provides minimal lighting. It is the sort of place where things could go bump in the night. Indeed, embedded into a rock formation is a refrigerator door that has a haunting mind of its own. That feature indicates the merging of inside and outside worlds, with the room being accessed from all sides.Video and lighting designer Joshua Pharo excels in creating the play’s overall mood of haunting suspense, leaving us wondering what will emerge from the shadows and surrounding blackness. Against this appropriately grim palette, projections that mark the passage of time stand out, as do some sudden flashes and a spectacular display that accompanies a disaster. Heightening the moods, sound designer Pete Malkin maximises the opportunities to create an air of shimmering tension and moments of explosive shock.Dominating the scene is George Naylor, who plays Joe, a depressed out-of-work actor trying to earn a living working in the local pub. When a rich stranger offers him a ridiculously large fee to play a ghost in the grounds of the local mansion, his desperate predicament leaves him with little alternative but to abandon his friends, quit his job and accept. Inevitably, the simple job description portends only a fraction of what will transpire, as he is exposed to nightmarish terrors while roaming the haunted grounds at night.Naylor abounds with confidence, charm and exuberance. He is endearing from the outset, with an engaging conversational style that lures us into the story, complete with some humorous asides. He also knows how to raise the level, bringing tension and anxiety into the frame accompanied by often frantic physicality that uses all available space and levels under the imaginative direction of Neil Bettles. Movement sequences take off with the arrival of Oliver Baines as the Dancer, who adds a paranormal element to the increasingly disturbing events.As the story progresses it becomes less clear, more complex and, for me, difficult to follow. Events begin to move rapidly and, while the dramatic appeal persists, the denouement seems tangled. Notwithstanding this, the high-quality performances and work by the creatives make this a memorable production.

Contemporary Ritual Theatre (CRT) is an exciting and highly imaginative company from Great Yarmouth, founded in 2022 “with the aim of creating innovative and challenging theatre projects”, of which SALT, at Riverside Studios, is a fine example.From the outset we are transported into another world. The year is 1770 on the East Norfolk coast (although there is an amusing line that says Cromwell is dead, Charles is on the throne and “whoring is back in fashion!”). Man Billy (Mylo McDonald), a violent young fisherman, lives among the dunes with his domineering mother, Widow Pruttock (Emily Outred). It’s a brutal world where the people live on the land but depend on the sea for their survival. It’s a tightly knit fishing community where everyone knows everybody else and their business. Rumours, gossip and superstition are rife, and witchcraft is still a very real threat, as witnessed by the arrival of Sheldis (Bess Roche). She is a wild young woman with supernatural gifts – a travelling singer in colourful, shredded clothes, with a feathered hat and masks. As an outsider she is automatically treated with suspicion by Widow Pruttock. Billy becomes increasingly obsessed with her while his mother believes Sheldis to have bewitched him and will do anything to break the spell.The situation opens up a host of scenarios that further the plot, while also giving insight into the period and the everyday life of people whose existence depends on the seasons, the weather and the tides, along with the hard work and bravery of men who subject themselves to the perils of the sea and women who labour endlessly preparing and selling the catch while maintaining homes and families.The studio space is set out with a single circle of chairs, two deep in only a couple of places, for this immersive, in-the-round experience. As the lights dim the cast enter and survey the scene. They strike up the first of many songs that are woven throughout the narrative. Composer and musical director Anna Pool has compiled a collection that embraces the rich folk song and sea shanty traditions of the region, arising naturally out of the narrative and giving a sense of time, place and circumstance. Attention focuses on the thick, heavy mooring rope piled up centre stage that the trio gradually unravel to create a ceremonial ring, all the time engaged in song.Over the course of two acts they assume multiple roles, the complexity of which can at times be confusing, but the overwhelming joy of being immersed in another world – of hearing fine voices strike up a cappella tunes and seeing characters brought to life by three highly accomplished actors – far outweighs any concerns in that area. These actors know their craft and deploy it fully.Credit must also go to writer-director Beau Hopkins for his creativity in shaping the story and the poetic, vivid use of language, and to Cameron Culver for casting three outstanding performers, whom Amanda Harrold has costumed in suitably rustic period attire. Lighting design by Tim Tracey creates moods with subtle tones, while Lucy Cullingford’s movement direction makes maximum use of the space both within and outside the circle, employing rhythmic beats and step patterns to enhance the script and sense of ritual. Meanwhile the many props, created and stage managed by Lucinda Bray, simplistically befit the period and the actions of daily life.SALT is a theatrical treat from a company that deserves recognition and support for its remarkable work in bringing to life both history and an oft-overlooked region that possesses a wealth of traditions and stories.

The New Diorama Theatre is currently hosting what is described as “an absurdist descent into the paradox of modern life”. It comes in the form of The Uncontainable Nausea of Alec Baldwin, a world premiere from migrant-led experimental theatre company TG WORKS.They provide helpful information about the play, which is useful in concisely describing what might otherwise prove elusive. The play “combines fractured narratives, physical theatre, and multimedia design to create an urgent interrogation of guilt, responsibility, and moral decay in an age where we confess to algorithms instead of each other”. This has to be understood in the context of a company that “champions experimentation where content dictates form and form is constantly questioned, disrupted, and reshaped, creating work that reflects a turbulent world and asks what theatre can – and must – be today”.The company is led by Lecoq and RADA trained artist Tommaso Giacomin, whose style is to work “through collaborative and highly physical processes” that blend “new writing, fractured narratives and multimedia elements to create bold, urgent work that interrogates contemporary socio-political realities”.In academic terms that work exists in the realms of existentialist European experimental theatre and theatre of the absurd. Don’t imagine for one moment, however, that this is something in the order of Pinter or Beckett. Rather it is the realm of what might be called “bonkers theatre”. It is mad, overstated, chaotic and enthusiastically energetic, but not silly or stupid. It is also visually exciting in terms of set, costumes and lighting. There is an abundance of sound and visuals, including a projected transcript of an AI interrogation and a full-scale dance routine, brilliantly choreographed and executed. A red chair drops from the ceiling and an enormous red plastic armchair is pumped to life and treated rather like a bouncy castle.Amid all this there is a storyline – somewhere. The title might suggest that it revolves around the tragic case of Alec Baldwin, who accidentally shot cinematographer Halyna Hutchins. There are times when the AI therapist seems to think this too. But there is another Alec Baldwin who has done something he truly, deeply regrets. We assume that, with no one else to turn to, he spends his days outpouring his guilt to a chatbot, even though it was not his fault.James Aldred gives a heartfelt, commanding performance as the eponymous hero, grappling with self-inflicted nausea and an overwhelming digital world of multiple outputs all screaming at the same time, with Stefanie Bruckner wildly playing the crazed victim of the incident. Meanwhile Bartel Jespers, in a blue shellsuit, captivatingly traverses the stage with a “Henry” vacuum cleaner, and Mathias Augestad Ambjør wanders around in white pants and vest sporting a giant smiling piñata headpiece to comic effect. Much of this is captured on a roving camera by Manuela Pierri and relayed on to the back wall. All combine in a kaleidoscopic frenzy of modern life that ultimately leads to a psychological breaking point.Two culminating monologues seem strangely out of place amid the mayhem. The first makes some significant points and offers a fine ending, but another follows that could easily be discarded. Is the production as cohesive as the company suggests? Probably not. Is it a thoroughly enjoyable and entertaining romp? Yes.

Mariia Petrovska sits aloft at the Arcola Theatre dressed in traditional costume, armed only with her country’s national instrument, so despised by the Russians as an expression of Ukrainian unity and identity that they executed people for playing it. The bandura has been at the heart of Ukraine's history and folkloric traditions for centuries, its 36 delicate strings creating magical sounds and accompaniments for songs that tell of triumphs and tragedies, love and loss. Having fled to Britain with her parents after the Russian invasion, she has an intimate connection to the production.Along with Petrovska’s situational narrative and enchanting vocals, it provides interludes between the five short plays that form Ukraine Unbroken. Her sequences also cover the significant scene changes required to move from one play to another. Credit here to Naomi Shanson (Stage Manager On Book), Ryan Denton (Assistant Stage Manager) and their team of hands for so expertly bringing about the transformations.The quintet is a worthy and ambitious project directed by Nicolas Kent with Victoria Gartner (Associate Director) and Maryna Kursik (Assistant Director – Ukrainian), performed by an adept six-actor ensemble of Daniel Betts, Ian Bonar, Sally Giles, David Michaels, Clara Read and Jade Williams.Act One, Demonstrations & Invasions, opens with Always by Jonathan Myerson in which we view the 2014 Maidan Square protests from a hotel room where two gunmen intend to shoot participants. This strategy comes as a surprise to the MP and his wife whom they are holding hostage, causing her to fear for her son who is out there with the crowds. Despite its inherent tensions, the outcome is rather bland.Next, David Edgar’s Five Day War examines Russia’s 2022 “Special Military Operation”. Imbued with some dark comedy, three potential post-victory leaders compete for positions while a bureaucrat pulls their strings. It’s an interesting, if rather game-ridden, take on the delusional world of false narratives.War is the simple descriptor of Act Two. Three Mates by Natalka Vorozhbyt is an intensely dramatic monologue in which Ian Bonar becomes Andriy, wrestling with his conscience as a man who, by various deceits, has managed to avoid conscription. Finally, we have a piece of theatre with which to identify and experience emotional turmoil.This leads into David Greig’s Wretched Things, which takes us to the front line where issues of morality and rules of engagement pose problems for three soldiers. The arguments and dilemmas are interesting; it might come over more convincingly in a film than it does on stage.That’s not the case with Taken by Cat Goscovitch, which confronts the harrowing reality of the 20,000 Ukrainian children stolen by Russia, handed over to other parents hundreds of miles away and subjected to a world of propaganda. Jade Williams, as the mother, movingly expresses the distress of families torn apart, and Clara Read as her 12-year-old daughter chillingly reveals the impact of re-education.Hence, it’s a mixed bag performed over nearly three hours. For those with a passionate interest in the subject matter, the didacticism and expositional content might be of interest, but overall, as a piece of theatre it falls short of the mark.

Director Jordan Fein has brilliantly placed Arthur Miller’s tense psychological drama Broken Glass in a pit-like arena at the Young Vic theatre, creating an all-encompassing air of inescapability and claustrophobia for characters trying to deal with the fact that in life “you draw your cards face down, you turn them over and you do your best with the hand you’ve got”.This first major London production of the play in 15 years proceeds for an uninterrupted two hours, with little let-up in the mounting intensity of questioning, revelations and confessions in the search for answers to a bizarre situation.Sylvia Gellburg (Pearl Chanda) runs the emotional gamut from calm acceptance of the strange paralysis that has inexplicably taken control of her legs to the ragings of a sexually frustrated and fearful wife who has nevertheless stayed by her husband. Now, from the comfort of her Brooklyn home, she is also overwhelmed by events in Germany. It is 1938 and the horrors of Kristallnacht fill the newspapers she obsessively buys, compulsively reads, then bundles up in her sitting room. The image of elderly Jewish men being forced to scrub the pavements with toothbrushes particularly haunts her.Based on his experience as a student in Germany, Dr Harry Hyman (Alex Waldmann) believes the people to be good-natured and that these events will soon pass, in the same way he believes Sylvia’s condition will disappear once they find the cause. He believes her paralysis to be psychosomatic, but he is no psychologist and she dreads the prospect of being thought mad. As the doctor to her husband, and despite his lack of appropriate qualifications, he continues to “treat” her and espouse amorous intentions towards her in keeping with his past.Meanwhile Philip Gellburg’s (Eli Gelb) tormented existence goes from bad to worse – a man who has never come to terms with being Jewish yet prides himself on being the first to attain such an elevated realtor position in the company. Gelb incrementally portrays the undermining of Philip through the mystery of his wife’s condition, his impotence and his shortcomings at work, despite his vehement protestations of being a good husband and a successful businessman. Waldmann excels in the interrogative scenes with him, as he does with Chanda, as a man passionately trying to do his best and get others to be honest and confront their demons.Mingling among these flawed titans, Nancy Carroll brings a knowing understanding of her situation as Harry’s wife, along with an outrageous scripted laugh. Nigel Whitmey captures the arrogance and control of a property magnate as Philip’s boss, while Sylvia’s sister – the most down-to-earth of them all – is realistically portrayed as a classic Jewish woman from Brooklyn by Juliet Cowan, who knows a lot and has to have it dragged out of her.This late play by Miller, in which he reveals many of his own misgivings, is not his most outstanding work but it is stamped with the hallmarks of his greatness and is done justice in this gripping production. Imaginative yet simple set design by Rosanna Vize, and lighting by Adam Silverman, along with excellent casting from Julian Horan, make it an all-round tragic joy.

The essential elements of Loot are its irreverence towards the taboo of death and the traditions of the Roman Catholic Church, and its attacks on the integrity of the police force. The script both overtly and by innuendo allows for these to be highlighted, if you know how to play it, and that is where this production falls short.Black comedy, of which Joe Orton was a master, is a demanding genre. It’s not simple laugh-out-loud comedy, although it contains many hilarious moments, nor is it pure farce with split-second timing avoiding disastrous consequences, yet it contains elements of both. Instead, it treads a precarious path between the two and demands a very specific interpretation that delivers its unique style.Ultimately, everything is down to the director, but all play their part. Casting director Chloe Blake has assembled actors who appear as caricatures, churning out lines at speed with little awareness of the nuances and subtleties contained within. There is an excess of eccentricity from some, with unrelentingly high-octane, monotone diatribes that should have been reined in, while underplayed delivery of potentially comic lines comes from others. What’s lacking is the credibility that these are real people engaged in outrageous behaviour. Orton’s homoeroticism is also lost through a lack of seductiveness, along with the underlying sense of menace.The abundance of often hyperbolic activity and delivery is sustained at such a level as to become monotone and does not negate the overall feeling of blandness. The set and costume design by Zoë Hurwitz convey the period, but the looming illuminated cross, while impressive, is overstated, especially when, with no context, it turns to red, white and blue at the end.Loot marks director Bethany Pitts’ first opportunity to “lead work on a mid-scale stage”. It appears in this case that Orton’s peculiar type of theatre proves to be too demanding and too big an opening gambit.

With an adulterous king on the throne, a prince stripped of his title and under police investigation, along with a disgraced peer of the realm, Gilbert & Sullivan’s satire of power, privilege and parliamentary democracy, wrapped around a story of forbidden love, resonates as much today as it would have done when Iolanthe was premiered in 1882, though by modern standards the mockery is mild. Back then the audience might also have been distracted from the lyrics by seeing the first production ever to be lit entirely by electricity, allowing for a range of new effects.It’s a trivial story of the improbable surmounted on the impossible. The lower echelons of the fairy world are lamenting the banishment of their dear friend Iolanthe (Eleanor O’Driscoll) for having married a mortal, contrary to fairy law. Her son, Strephon (Matthew Palmer), top half fairy, bottom half male, about whom the father knows nothing, is an Arcadian shepherd who has fallen in love with Phyllis (Llio Evans), whom he wants to marry. She, however, is a Ward of Chancery, well known to their lordships for her beauty and sought after by them all. As fairies don’t age, events take an unfortunate turn when Phyllis sees Strephon embracing a seemingly young woman who, unbeknown to her, is his mother. Chaos and confusion ensue before all is inevitably resolved after a few more revelations.What director John Savournin doesn’t know about performing and directing G&S probably isn’t worth knowing, and he’s assisted by revival director James Hurley. Designer Rachel Szmukler’s centred Palace of Westminster bookcase, looking a little isolated, cuts the stage’s depth, so that Savournin moves the action forward with maximum use of the double apron and split levels. This makes for a more intimate production, though cutting the large chorus of peers and fairies is a loss. Simplicity is the order of the day. We have the company’s own chamber orchestra under the enthusiastic baton of David Eaton. Ben Pickersgill’s lighting rises to the challenge of Wilton’s Music Hall's vast expanse, while Molly Fraser’s costumes are imaginative and functional.The show abounds with opportunities for virtuoso performances and these were not missed. Matthew Kellett, as the Lord Chancellor, fulsomely expressed his embodiment of the law, comically telling his story in When I went to the Bar and faultlessly delivering the nightmare tongue twister When you’re lying awake. Meriel Cunningham, as the controlling Queen of the Fairies, used the depths of her powerful contralto to create a figure not to be contradicted. She is fully controlling yet merciful at the bidding of the harmoniously matched, giggling fairy duo Celia and Leila, played by Sarah Prestwidge and Martha Jones, into which O’Driscoll blends perfectly.Back in the real world, Evans and Palmer give vocally powerful, assertive performances, with the latter doubling as Willis the librarian and giving a delightful rendition of When all night long a chap remains… to open the much faster-paced Act Two. The fine-voiced David Menezes entertains throughout as Earl Tolloller, but it is the brilliant gender change from Earl to Lady Mountararat that allows Catrine Kirkman to give a highly amusing Thatcherite interpretation of the role.Charles Court Opera, with a wealth of experience and well-versed performers, deliver a joyous, if minimal, production that celebrates the remarkable collaboration that bequeathed us lyrics that flow easily from comedy to heartache and music that has us still singing memorable melodies weeks after the show.

In a “little town 20 miles from anywhere important”, there are five lads, of whom one says: “The most exciting thing that ever happened here, happened somewhere else.” Clearly that is currently not the case at Greenwich Theatre, where Proforca Theatre Company have brought Flashbang as part of their tour.Writer James Lewis has compiled an action-packed eighty-five minutes about five lads seeking youthful fun in a place that is not really geared up for it. They met in junior school and decided they should create some recognition of their closeness by forming a gang, although their teacher suggested that this sounded somewhat aggressive and perhaps they would rather just be a group. There was no kudos in that, so they ignored her and stayed together into adulthood. All except one, that is, whose exit from the circle marks the major turning point in the play.It’s a reflective work in which the four lads, Ryan (Alex Hill), Jason (Charlie Jobe), Andy (Haydn Watts) and Deano (Ben Watts), take us along the path of growing up. The performances are full of energy and the pace is fast, with lines of stories being shared among them. There are plenty of nights out recounted, weekend parties, excessive and sometimes gross behaviour, but it’s all conducted in a spirit of fun and camaraderie and is the sort of stuff that those of us listening can identify with from our own teenage years. To contrast the banter, we are treated to some short monologues which reveal more personal aspects of events and allow feelings and emotions to surface.Flashbang is a celebration of male bonding and the power of friendship surviving through thick and thin, the good times and the bad times. That spirit can be felt amongst the ensemble, and the casting is well balanced to create four credible yet different characters. Director David Brady, with Lucy Glassbrook in charge of movement, has created a lively piece with just four metal chairs as props on a bare stage, which for some reason has a white rectangle painted in the centre. Projected photographs by Ross Kernahan provide the setting and a commentary on the action, and some stunning lighting effects by Gregory Jordan change the moods.The boys’ stories, while entertaining, tend to be variations on a theme, without making much progress in terms of a storyline. The big flashbang that changes the direction of the play is predictable from early on, so only the details create interest, while the fallout tends to be overworked and prolonged and there is nothing especially profound in the story.Hence it remains enjoyable rather than memorable; the lasting joy is seeing the next generation of actors exhibit their enthusiasm and talent.

Plays often attempt to redress the balance of male-dominated history, and Charing Cross Theatre is currently hosting Mrs President, a two-hander that places Abraham Lincoln’s wife, Mary Todd Lincoln (Keala Settle), centre-stage with the ground-breaking photographer Matthew Brady (Hal Fowler).The period is artistically established with a conservatively furnished set by Anna Kelsey, who also designed the fabulously impressive costumes. Greens, blues and browns dominate Mary’s functional room, with a carver chair that brings back memories of her sons who died at the ages of three, 12 and 18. Behind a gauze screen that blends unobtrusively into the room’s layout is the photographic developing studio. It might appear somewhat dull but for the imaginative lighting from Derek Andersen, who also supplies multicoloured artistic flashes that heighten key moments. Meanwhile, Eammon O’Dwyer’s sound effectively complements both the setting and the action.Director Bronagh Lagan makes excellent use of everything supplied by the creatives and, along with associate and movement director Sam Rayner, gives Settle plenty of room to swirl her layers of hooped petticoats. Despite all these factors in its favour, along with the invested experience of two accomplished actors, and notwithstanding all her stories, the tragic deaths she experienced and the devastating sectioning of her by her eldest and only son to reach adulthood, it is still hard to identify with her or to feel a sense of emotional attachment. Her cause is not helped by the excessive wailing and screaming in some scenes.Fowler takes on several roles, including one as a judge in which the emancipation timeline seems completely awry. This, and other scenes, provide glimpses of the eventful times in which they were living, but nothing is explored in depth.The missed opportunities to create two characters with hearts, confronting major personal and social issues, are manifold, denying us both emotional understanding and historical insight.

The show that initiated Rupert Goold’s tenure at the Almeida as artistic director is now revived as his last before moving to the Old Vic. He described that premiere production of American Psycho as “an over-ambitious show for the space”.Now the first two rows have been taken out to accommodate a matt black raised thrust platform consisting of embedded LED panels. These are the vehicle for some very impressive sequences by designer Jon Clark, who creates stunning lighting effects throughout. LED concertina curtains at the rear open to reveal various sets, while two floor panels form a trapdoor from which the meticulous, yet minimalist, sets by Es Devlin emerge, often with a character in situ. The otherwise bare stage also provides space for some tightly choreographed numbers by Lynne Page, in keeping with the period, locations and moods of the plot. With music supervision by David Shrubsole and director Ellen Campbell, sound design from Dan Moses Schreier, who perfectly judges the volume, and video design from Finn Ross, the achievements of the creative team take their place among the highlights of the production.The show is dominated by Arty Froushan, who reveals his character in opening words from inside the shower: “There is an idea of a Patrick Bateman; some kind of abstraction. But there is no real me: only an entity, something illusory.” Froushan is as fit as Bateman boasts himself to be. He exudes privilege, money, class and expensive taste to a level that makes him somewhat obnoxious, in addition to being an investment banker. Nothing he owns or uses is ever mentioned without the extravagant designer name adjectivally attached. He epitomises the saying, “If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” That includes his glamorous, strikingly dressed fiancé, Evelyn Williams, assertively played by Emily Barber, whose costumes are some of the many fabulous numbers designed by Katrina Lindsay. Together they might look the part, but we become increasingly privy to stresses beneath the surface. The only thing missing in his life is the highly lucrative Fischer account. That jewel in the crown went to Paul Owen, and Daniel Bravo wears it with casual pride, knowing that it turns Bateman green with envy.In addition to foot-stomping original electropop music and lyrics by Duncan Sheik, there are well-known songs from the period, of which In the Air Tonight is the most poignant, marking a turning point in Bateman’s behaviour. In a chilling moment listening to: “I can feel it coming in the air tonight, oh Lord. And I've been waiting for this moment for all my life, oh Lord.” We remember his words from the shower and the psychopath is let loose. Add to that Phil Collins’ own words that in the song “there's a lot of anger, a lot of despair and a lot of frustration”, and it becomes the perfect fit for Bateman.Goold’s production is packed with energy, moves at a pace and has a stylish ensemble.

Cambridge University’s European Theatre Group, under the direction of James Allen, delivers The Comedy of Errors with pace, humour and physicality at the ADC Theatre.The production was devised for performance not just locally, but also on tour in several European cities to audiences that include children listening to an archaic version of a foreign language. The Theatre Group's desire to preserve authenticity combined with accessibility is well met in this two-act version.For clarity, a modern preamble explains the problem of finding two pairs of identical twins, which is overcome by costume coding. Give one pair matching T-shirts and the other bright yellow sou’westers and all becomes clear. Additionally, explain that a shortage of actors means that one part will be played by a seagull puppet, while others double up parts by a change of hat or by wearing a mask, and you have a comic introduction that sets the tone for what follows. This, and the ensuing action, witnesses the ingenuity and imagination that Allen has given to this production.All playwrights have to begin somewhere and the consensus for Shakespeare is that The Comedy of Errors was among his first works. Dare one say that it shows? Notwithstanding, it is not without its admirers. The renowned critic Harold Bloom maintained that it “reveals Shakespeare's magnificence at the art of comedy” and shows “such skill, indeed mastery, in action, incipient character, and stagecraft, that it far outshines the three Henry VI plays and the rather lame comedy The Two Gentlemen of Verona.” Humour has clearly changed over the years, but there is plenty of fun to be had in it. The story was taken from Plautus and is rare in its adherence to the classical unities of time, place and action, giving it an inherent focus across the board.The set reflects the simplicity of this production. Two trestle ladders of different heights are arranged asymmetrically, one labelled ‘The Phoenix’, where Antipholus of Ephesus lives with his wife, Adriana, and the other, ‘Porpentine’, where Antipholus of Syracuse is meant to dine and to where the gold chain is delivered. Entrances and exits are frequently made under the ladders’ arches, and this adds to the element of superstition in the play.The ensemble cast are full of energy and enthusiasm but, as might be expected from a university society production, they comprise a mixed bag of talent. While they each have their commendable qualities, special mention has to go to the former National Youth Theatre member (Rob) Marques Monteiro for a commandingly idiosyncratic performance as Antipholus of Syracuse, full of measured pauses, artful gestures and mesmerising eye contact.Overall, Allen and the company have grasped the comedic aspect of this minor Shakespearean work and have turned it into fun-filled entertainment. Good job done.

This year marks the 90th anniversary of Oswald Mosley’s attempted march down Cable Street, when he led the British Union of Fascists (BUF) through an area at the heart of his antisemitism.That was not just an affront to the large Jewish population there, but to all who lived in the East End of London. Consequently, communists, anarchists and swathes of Irish dockers and other workers, along with local residents, took to the streets and eventually caused the march to be abandoned. Their success was achieved despite the presence of 6,000 police, who cleared barricades and used mounted and baton charges against protesters to fulfil their protective escort duties for the blackshirts.Les Misérables proves that this sort of material can be the stuff of musicals, and Cable Street confirmed that with two highly successful runs at Southwark Playhouse in 2024. Now it resurfaces at the Marylebone Theatre, directed by Adam Lenson, where it’s hard to imagine that the strings of four- and five-star ratings that adorn the posters will be replicated.Alex Kanefsky’s book concerns three parallel stories about families who are Jewish, Irish and working class, and is consumed by the hardships of the period and the attitudes that exist between the different communities. In various ways, the families and individuals within them respond to their circumstances and to emerging events, such as the rise of fascism, the shortage of work, and the lack of secure housing.A present-day group of people on a guided tour of the area provides a framework for the recounting of history, made relevant only by a woman trying to trace her ancestor. However, it’s a device that could be dispensed with. The stage is a hive of activity, and the versatile set by Yoav Segal copes admirably. The three rooms for the families are regularly taken apart and reassembled as other locations are created in between. The multiple stories weave their way in and out, often as staccato interludes that take an adept mind to follow.The show features powerful performances from the likes of Isaac Gryn, Preeya Kalidas, Romona Lewis-Malley, Ethan Pascal Peters, Jez Unwin and Barney Wilkinson, within an energetic ensemble. The musical styles reflect the backgrounds of the people, although the fashionable raps seem out of place. Like most musicals, it’s very loud, courtesy of the fully miked stage, although that does not always help convey the lyrics, which might also reflect poor enunciation in places. Opportunities to significantly lower the volume are rarely taken.The musical’s message resonates across the years, however, and there are strong links to the Spanish civil war, with the cry of “¡No pasarán!” (“They shall not pass”) resounding as a universal motto, while connections to our own times are easily made.The show has already been back to the drawing board, but it needs to return for further editing to be made more slick and coherent.

A tragicomedy that is both entertainment and therapy, The Olive Boy is rooted in the death of Ollie Maddigan’s adolescence and his grief management following the death of his mother, which he confronts through the lens of himself aged 15.It's emotionally challenging, but it's his choice and he knows what he’s doing. The play is not just a release and coming-to-terms mechanism for him, but has also powerfully impacted others who have found themselves in similar situations. In conversation he will relate moving accounts of parents and children who have thanked him for The Olive Boy and the way it has helped to bring about reconciliation in families and hope for the bereaved.Maddigan is now 22, but vividly remembers his youth, which provides the framework for what one assumes is an embellished, yet authentic, portrayal of the boy he was. A family video opens the play before he makes a swaggering entrance in his dishevelled school uniform of black trousers, white shirt, blazer and tie. He sits and waits, looks around to get a feel of his audience, raising the tension with a lengthy pause, before breaking the ice with a line of humour. It’s a device that will appear on several occasions and just one of the many performance skills he uses so deftly. He artfully juggles punctuation to create momentum and then hold things still. Rather than stopping at the end of a sentence, he will run straight into the next, irrespective of content, and then insert an unexpected pause. It’s a clever attention-holding strategy that combines with accents and voices attached to an array of characters he portrays.Complementing the language is the physicality of his performance. He occupies the stage in a manner that illustrates teenage agility, using all available space and just one chair. He sits on it, leaps over it, stands on it, picks it up and thrusts it down. He has walking styles, movements and a myriad of gestures that in themselves entertain but which are always directly related to the text and reflect his various states of mind. Some flow smoothly, others are abrupt.Alone on stage, but with the family, classmates and teachers vividly in his mind, he also interacts with some startling lighting by Adam Jefferys, precisely cued by stage manager Dani White, along with various sounds. On a plain stage these serve to change locations, time and moods.As his life unfolds we are treated to the story of a bereaved lad in a dysfunctional relationship with his alcoholic father, trying to fit in as a stranger in a new school in a new area, while his body increasingly produces testosterone and he craves a girlfriend. As Maddigan has pointed out, “When you're a teenager and your mum passes away you don't stop being a teenager. It's not like you don't stop caring about who's popular and girls and drinking and parties.” And we see that sentiment well evidenced.An earlier version of this play had enormous success at the Edinburgh Fringe, where I first saw it, and on tour, but now under the sensitive and imaginative direction of Scott Le Crass it’s had what they call a ‘glow-up’, and a play that always shone brightly glistens even more vividly as a hilarious, tear-jerking and profound theatrical triumph.

Talk of genocide, ethnic groups denied the right to claim land they believe to be their heritage and the invasion of a country in pursuit of oil makes much of Safe Haven resonate with our own time.Yet it is firmly entrenched in the aftermath of the First Gulf War in 1991, the policies of Saddam Hussein and Operation Safe Haven, a diplomatic and humanitarian intervention that saved countless Kurdish lives and prevented a genocide greater than the one some claim to already have been under way.As a former human rights diplomat in London, aid worker and journalist who reported for the BBC from Afghanistan and Central Asia, Chris Bowers is eminently qualified to write on this subject, especially as he was posted to Moscow and Iraqi Kurdistan and headed the UK office in Erbil. Translating that experience to the stage is another matter, however. Whilst his insights into the workings of those institutions are obviously authentic, the complexities of negotiations and relationships are probably not the stuff of entertainment unless there is a cliff-hanger in the mix. An excess of exposition in order to provide understanding of the situation, combined with time restrictions, makes negotiations seem oversimplified and the conjuring up of brilliant solutions contrived.Using gauze curtains against the brick walls of Arcola Theatre’s Studio 2, designer Jida Aki, in collaboration with Samuel Owen (lighting), Ali Taie (sound) and Libby Ward (video), simply but effectively creates multiple locations and scenes of action. Two of those predominate to suggest the very different worlds of diplomats and the dispossessed.Richard Lynson portrays diplomat Clive as a predictable, rather dull bureaucrat who finds himself challenged by circumstances and the more radical approach of Catherine, his assistant, whom Beth Burrows plays assertively and with a passion for the plight of peoples that is often at odds with diplomatic neutrality. Stephen Cavanagh throws himself into the fray as Brett, the US commanding officer, but scenes with him seem to heighten the lack of credibility surrounding interactions.Meanwhile, on the mountains, Zeyra (Euginie Bouda) and Najat (Lisa Zahra), as a pregnant woman and her helper, depict two women struggling against the elements and the political malaise as aircraft fire on them. This adds a human, if predictable, dimension to the story. Introducing Clive’s wife into the equation, also played by Zahra, adds some domestic interest and a chance for her and Catherine to conspire against him, with shades of the henpecked husband. Mazlum Gul, making his professional debut, gives an insight into local attitudes as Zeyra’s brother and more powerfully as Saddam Hussein’s brother, despatched as a negotiator.It’s an interesting rather than gripping production from director Mark Geisser and worthy of further development.

A misheard word while eavesdropping on a conversation sets a series of events in motion that embroil the already highly stressed Tom Asher (Jamie Hutchins) in a web of confusion and misunderstandings, all while he tries to cope with the two current priorities in his life: directing his latest play and getting dressed.Thus the scene is set for Andrew Cartmel's farcical comedy Dressing Gown at the Union Theatre, tightly directed by Jenny Eastop. Casually attired in the eponymous robe, Tom strolls out of his bedroom, but before he can tackle his first coffee, his producer, Dan (Ryan Woodcock), storms in and launches into a prolonged tirade. (The door seems always to be on the latch so anyone can walk in, though some do him the courtesy of ringing the bell.)Dan is under the impression that Tom is having an affair with his girlfriend, Layla (Rosie Edwards), who also happens to be the lead in the play they are doing. Tom is confused, as that is definitely not the case, but once Dan is done and gone the playwright, Jenna (Freya Alderson), enters to rant about actors who cannot learn their lines and who seem to regard her script as just a guideline as to what they should say. She also throws some important light on Tom’s misunderstanding. Meanwhile, once Layla is in on the situation, she decides to milk Tom’s guilt trip for having not trusted her, and so the layers of chaos and calamity build up.It’s a joy to see a new play in this genre, with a hard-working and energetic cast who storm through the 70 minutes. The situation is classically absurd, with plenty of ludicrous moments and clever linguistic periods of exploration. It’s funny in places, but it won’t leave you rolling around in the aisles, and there are patches of wordy dialogue that labour potentially amusing moments. Within the scenes the outcomes are fairly obvious, and the stakes could be much higher in terms of unpredictability and things going disastrously wrong.That aside, Dressing Gown is a fun and refreshing piece of theatre.

It’s a 60-minute two-hander, but Harold Pinter's mingling of realism and absurdism, combined with his precise style of writing and the need to create two credible yet enigmatic characters, means The Dumb Waiter presents a challenge for even the greatest of talents. It is therefore all the more remarkable that two teenagers from Years 10 and 12 at Westcliff High School for Boys should pull off a triumph.Performed in a black box, created by curtaining off the bookshelves in the library and performed in the round, the space has precisely the required level of claustrophobia needed for the basement setting. Two canvas beds are the sum total of furnishings, but in the centre of the raised staging, connecting this level to the uncharted floor above, is what amounts to the third character: the dumb waiter, which seems to have a mind of its own and interjects by suddenly dropping down with notelets attached to a covered tray or abruptly ascending. But who is writing these food orders, and why can they not grasp that the kitchen no longer functions?Playing faithfully to the script and its stage directions, Sam Skeels and Conor Lynch-Wyatt create the very different characters of Ben and Gus respectively, two hitmen awaiting details of their next assignment. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, but that doesn’t make the waiting any less tense nor allay Gus’s concern that their victim might be a woman. The specific actions that Pinter insists on are there from the outset. Gus struggles with properly tying his shoelaces, while Ben assumes the detached and disinterested manner of a man simply filling the time with reading and rereading his newspaper while making the occasional observation on a story.This is where the chemistry between the two begins to emerge. Skeels embodies the contrasting elements of a passive, lethargic man of few words, who nevertheless exerts enormous control over his partner. His movements are purposeful, and his occasional criticisms of Gus and comments towards him indicate the underlying sinister and threatening manner of a man who will not tolerate criticism. In the societal view of the play, he represents the oppressive authority of those powers who are, nevertheless, controlled by someone higher up the ladder.Lynch-Wyatt, in contrast, is a man who can't sit still, always burning energy in erratic pacings of the floor or expressing nervous tension. He behaves submissively in his role and is clearly dominated by Ben, perhaps because his intellectual powers are more limited. He is the other dumb waiter in the room, but it doesn't stop him trying to engage, although it rarely gets him anywhere.Under the meticulous direction of Mr Ben Jeffreys, who runs the school’s drama club, the team has mastered the art of delivering an ellipsis, a pause, and silence; the three forms adopted by Pinter to break up his text in a way that directly reflects the characters’ mindset. They also have the effect of creating suspense, tension, and anticipation in those watching. These work most effectively when the text is delivered with pace. It is this art of timing that comes over so well in this production and which the duo have clearly mastered.Of course, the play poses many questions and, as Pinter intended, gives no answers, but this was a breath-taking opportunity to see a first-class exposition of the great playwright's work at its best.

The English National Opera’s revival of their 2021 production of Gilbert and Sullivan’s HMS Pinafore is musically joyous but tinged with distracting comic actions, puerile humour and the tired vestiges of digs at Brexit. Boris still flies aloft while attempts to adapt the flag-waving feel contrived.As with the original version, there is a front-of-curtain introduction to the show by the outstanding bass-baritone and character actor John Savournin, who later appears as the immaculately attired and ultra-posh Captain Corcoran. It now seems these shows require the appearance of a ‘celebrity’. The good news is that the previous ‘star’, Les Dennis, is no longer around. His presence matched his role only inasmuch as he played a man appointed to a position for which he was totally unqualified. This year we have Mel Giedroyc in two roles: a cheeky cabin boy, supposedly a non-speaking part, although she soon changes that with her interruptions, and Aunt Melanie, constantly seeking attention and fooling around. Ah well!In contrast, much of the rest is a delight. Opening on the deck of the eponymous ship, we are immediately struck by the scale of the set by designer takis, which uses the double revolve to impressive effect. His crinolines, wigs and hats for the sisters, cousins and aunts form a kaleidoscopic rainbow of colour in contrast to the smart blue and white uniforms of the sailors. The singing of the chorus meets all the demands of the work, as does the orchestra under the baton of Matthew Kofi Waldron. Meanwhile, Lizzi Gee’s choreography is both traditionally naval and comic.Neal Davies somewhat overly plays the pronunciation of ‘r’s as ‘w’s, which seems to serve only the purpose of getting a laugh out of the word ‘rank’. But as Sir Joseph Porter he engages fully in the role. Clearly from an operatic background, Thomas Atkins sings Ralph’s part with passion while seeming a little uncomfortable at times. Not so Henna Mun, who is clearly focused on her role, even with the nonsense of Rhonda Browne doing Buttercup’s comic turn of clambering over the railings distracting from her delicate vocals.G&S purists will probably feel uncomfortable with the excesses of Cal McCrystal’s production, while others will enjoy the fun and the musical quality. Perhaps in a future iteration ENO can go the whole hog and give us Pinafore – the Panto.

If you’re looking for a master class in dramatic construction, performance and direction, it has arrived at the Marylebone Theatre in Michael McKeever’s hit Off-Broadway play, Daniel’s Husband, for Plastered Productions. The superb casting by Arthur Carrington allows director Alan Souza to draw out all the emotional intensity of the play with distinctly drawn characters and dialogue that is engaging throughout the five-scene structure.Before becoming immersed in the story, however, sit in awe of Justin Williams’s chic set: a stunning apartment dominated by walls in British racing green, straight out of Farrow & Ball, with occasional tables, sofas and bookcases. He should do a sideline in interior design. People would be queuing up. It is all sensitively lit by Jamie Platt in amber hues with hidden lights on every shelf. The gay couple who live here also have a record player and Sarah Weltman captures its sounds perfectly in her design. There are soothing tunes throughout and some delightful cabaret-style piano as a mood-setting introduction.Scene one opens with the guys enjoying a relaxing after-dinner drink with arms wrapped around shoulders. Friendly chat ensues and we enjoy the camaraderie of the evening. Joel Harper-Jackson’s Daniel exudes confidence as a successful architect and plays the perfect host. Luke Fetherston, as Mitchell, his partner of seven years, and in Daniel’s mind would-be husband, is an author who is happy to make plenty of money out of popular gay fiction rather than pursue a literary career for less. He’s relaxed and sociable. Between them there is only one taboo subject, that of marriage. Daniel is desperate to wed. Mitchell refuses to accept the idea of gay people subscribing to heteronormative traditions. Nevertheless, the issue keeps raising its ugly head and is central to the plot.Joining in the exchanges are their friends. Barry is the oldest member of the group and Mitchell’s agent. David Badella’s charm and maturity entirely suit the role of a man whose professional wisdom works well for him in business, but whose craving for twinks and at least a twenty-year age gap has not served him well. Witness Trip, who adoringly sits beside him. Raiko Gohara has some wonderful lines that illustrate the eras in which they grew up and he delivers them with a youthful naivety that gains a number of laughs. Trip’s serious side is the work he does as a home-care provider. Meanwhile, with some disagreements, the mood has become a little tense.Scene two opens with the dreaded arrival of Daniel’s mother, the control freak, complete with suitcase. The week proves stressful and argumentative, but Liza Savoy’s Lydia is not one for compromise. She sternly plays the woman who is not to be messed with or contradicted. She holds her deceased husband in low esteem, whereas Daniel holds him in the highest regard and despises his mother for having held him back from an outstanding career as an artist. He has one of his large abstract paintings on the wall we don’t see, which he refuses to take down in order to appease her.Once she leaves, the startling event occurs that will change the course of everyone’s life. While no one could have seen that coming, the foreshadowing of the previous scenes now falls into place and the subsequent events, while having some inevitability to them, entertain in their unfolding and detail. Monologues from Daniel and Mitchell, a scene apart, provide a balanced and refreshing stylistic change of mood from the otherwise intense dialogue. The end of the final scene brings a surprising, but very neat rounding off of the story. Have tissues at the ready; you might very well cry.If you’re seeing no other play as a culmination to your year of enjoying theatre, fit this one in or kick-start 2026 with it. Everything about it suggests it has a huge future ahead of it and you want to be able to say you saw it here.

In 1907, when J M Synge’s The Playboy of the Western World opened in Dublin, protests took place during the performance at the Abbey Theatre and riots ensued in the streets.Each generation has its sensitivities and Synge clearly touched a nerve with this work, although today it is hard to imagine what all the fuss was about. Set in County Mayo, it was branded as unpatriotic, an affront to morality and demeaning to the people of western Ireland, in particular the women of the region. The theme of patricide was also unpalatable. However, it went on to achieve esteemed status in the Irish Literary Revival and influenced successive generations of writers.The plot is minimal. Christy Mahon (Éanna Hardwicke) stumbles into Flaherty’s tavern and announces that he has just killed his father by hitting him over the head with a loy. For reasons that are not clear, the reaction of the locals is the opposite of what might be expected. The eponymous landlord (Lorcan Cranitch) commends Christy for his deed, while his barmaid daughter Pegeen (Nicola Coughlan) falls in love with him, much to the annoyance of her suitor, Shawn Keogh (Marty Rea), and the envy of other women who flaunt themselves at him.At the behest of Keogh, Widow Quin (Siobhán McSweeney) tries unsuccessfully to seduce him. When Christy’s father, Mahon (Declan Conlon), turns up at the tavern, having only been injured, the locals turn on Christy, who attacks his father again in order to regain the love of Pegeen. But this time, believing him to be dead, the villagers unite to hang him. He is saved by his father’s reappearance (again). They become reconciled and leave to wander the world. Keogh seizes the moment to suggest that he marry Pegeen, but she spurns him. In her final wailing lament she exclaims: “I’ve lost the only playboy of the western world.”‘Willing suspension of disbelief’ comes to mind for most of the story, but the play’s strength lies in its telling. In the best Irish tradition many a yarn is spun and vivid imagery conjured up, along with a good measure of humour, all delivered by a mostly authentic Irish cast that gives impressive performances under the direction of Caitríona McLaughlin, on an expansive set by Katie Davenport, sensitively lit in hues that match the time of day and weather conditions by James Farncombe.There is a big issue, however. A number of empty seats after the interval probably reflected the linguistic difficulty with this production, which is true to Synge’s Hiberno-English, heavily influenced by the Irish language. While the sound and richness of the language is a joy, much of it is unintelligible to the English ear and to people from other countries.That said, it is still a worthwhile experience to see this Irish classic so well delivered.

Previews of Sir Tom Stoppard's Indian Ink at Hampstead Theatre began just a few days after his death, and through this sad coincidence, a story is highlighted that gives the production an added dimension.Originally a radio play, this revival celebrates the thirtieth anniversary of the stage debut, in which Felicity Kendal played Flora Crewe. She and Stoppard were in a relationship for many years. He wrote the role for her and dedicated the play to her mother. Now, she plays the role of Crewe’s sister, Eleanor Swan, who outlived her by many years. Their story unfolds in two time frames, until the very end, when Swan travels to India and stands over her sibling’s grave in a poignantly moving scene.Taking on Kendal’s original role, Ruby Ashbourne Serkis brings an air of the debutante. Arriving in India for health reasons, she inevitably attracts the attention of all the important people in the region. The English colonial official, David Durance, clearly has his eyes set on her. Tom Durant-Pritchard gives him the etiquette of the Raj, which comes across with hesitant politeness in her presence. Balancing him is Nirad Das, a local artist who paints her portrait. Gavi Singh Chera captures both the customary respect given to the memsahib and the informality of a man with whom she freely engages, enjoying his company and conversation. It’s a delight to see their relationship develop in a way that will never happen with Durance. Irvine Iqbal exudes the presence of an Indian aristocrat, with a charming manner in making advances that, ultimately, will go nowhere.Meanwhile, back in her English country garden in a later period, Eleanor Swan is serving cakes and cups of tea to Eldon Pike, a literary researcher from the USA eager to lay his hands on any material about her sister, particularly her correspondence. Those were the days of revealing all in letters. Donald Sage Mackay plays Pike with the ineptitude of a man unaccustomed to the pleasantries of English society, in complete contrast to the lady of the house. Kendal exudes charm, politeness, and tolerance, interspersed with wit and her hallmark cheekiness — sadly wasted on the interloper but not on us.There are some delightful moments of banter among servants and lackeys, and director Jonathan Kent excels in capturing the appropriate period feel in both locations, highlighting the various levels of relationships between the diverse characters.An unmissably brilliant aspect of the production is the stunning and highly versatile set by Leslie Travers, which copes with multiple locations in India and the parallel English venue: a split stage that merges into one, adorned with an abundance of flora. Costumes by Nicky Shaw add to the atmosphere and sense of period, while lighting designer Peter Mumford bathes the entire production in the most delightful hues.It's a delightful entertainment with captivating performances and a fitting tribute to the late author.

The annual Intermission Youth Theatre production is always a highly anticipated and rewarding event. Those of us who have been attending for several years know we will be in for an evening of joyous entertainment from a new cohort of 16 to 25 year olds who have completed the 10 month programme that is an accessible alternative to drama school for burgeoning actors and creatives. Shakespeare will be stripped back, reimagined and remixed. The everyday language of the Bard will blend with modern street English and become a universal means of communication.This year’s choice from the Bard’s collection, performed in their new location of the Courtyard Theatre, is The Comedy of Errors, rewritten with the customary flair of the company’s artistic director Darren Raymond to create A Comedy of Errors Remixed. Perhaps not an obvious choice, but as always the modern relevance of the play is drawn out.The original is set in the Greek city of Ephesus, which the citizens of Syracuse are forbidden to enter under penalty of death. Chaos reigns when two sets of identical twins, who were separated at birth, unknowingly end up in the city, giving the play a farcical element. None of this is lost in the current production, which wholeheartedly embraces the confusion of mistaken identity, the importance of family and the wider issues of immigration, displacement and what Raymond describes as “worsening attitudes towards the ‘other,’” pointing out that “members of our cast are second and third generation immigrants and still struggle to feel British.”Set in London, we follow two asylum seekers, Anthony and Dominique, who arrive in the UK having escaped conflict in their home country. We witness their struggle to assimilate as they navigate language barriers, prejudice and mistaken identity, eventually reconnecting with their long lost identical twins whom they believed to have been killed in a civil war 20 years earlier but who had actually escaped to the UK.A special feature of this year’s production is the direction by Stephanie Badaru, who was in the first group of young people to participate in the company’s programme in 2008 and is the first alumnus to face the challenge of directing two casts who switch lead roles and chorus on alternate nights. With a multi level functional set by Constance Villemot and lighting by Rajiv Pattani, she has created a play with pace, energetic interaction and scope for the young cast to demonstrate their abilities. She is assisted by associate director Federay Holmes.As always, it is a thrilling multi ethnic production, created by an enormous amount of teamwork and passion, that inspires hope for the future of theatre.

Gary Owen’s RING RING, directed by David Bond for Shed/Vox Theatre company, receives its professional premiere at the White Bear Theatre, having been commissioned by the Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama as part of their NEW programme of original work.The structure of RING RING is inspired by Arthur Schnitzler’s Reigen (1898), otherwise known as La Ronde. That play was banned in 1904, its 1921 premiere was shut down by the Vienna police, and its author was prosecuted for obscenity amid additional criticisms of anti-Semitism. The original no longer suffers such a fate, and this adaptation is sufficiently innocuous as to leave no one upset or distressed.The ensemble cast of Iwan Bond, Leisa Gwenllian, Izzi McCormack-John, Tiger Tingley, and Alfie Todd proves competent, and there are moments of humour and intensity in the dialogues. The functional set by Alberto Aquilin allows for movement within the confines of the stage, while lighting by Trekessa Austin and original music by Leo Nathan assist in mood changes.Nowadays, it’s hard to replicate anything approaching the impact of the original. Attitudes have changed. Viennese society was likely highly stratified and tightly structured. Relationships that crossed these boundaries were seen as scandalous. There are elements of secrecy and infidelity in Owen’s work, but they seem no more than aspects of everyday modern life, and the whole is far less overtly sexual. No syphilis doing the rounds here!Pairs of actors consecutively perform scenes, with one character remaining on stage to be joined by a different partner in the next vignette, providing continuity as a different aspect of the person’s life is revealed. It illustrates that, individually, we see only part of what makes a person, and that in another setting a person can be perceived differently.The focus in the various scenes is on how people handle situations, deal with conflict, and seek resolution. The simplicity of the situations belies the complexity of the interactions: trying to avoid signing up to donate money under pressure from a charity worker; managing a relationship with your partner; parental responsibility and divorce; or catching out a would-be world traveller spewing false tales.The points are easily made, but there are perhaps more scenes than necessary to make them in the 90-minute run.

A trailer projected onto the wall of Barons Court Theatre promotes the latest film featuring Posh Actor. It is innocuous enough and nothing exceptional, but behind it lies a story and relationship that forms the substance of Theo Hristov’s Working Class Hero, in which he plays opposite Oscar Nicholson.Despite their friendship, the divide between them is evident from the outset. Nicholson plays the white, privately educated Posh Actor with the air of privilege and entitlement as though it were his birthright. Hristov plays the character Posh naturally looks down on – a working-class Bulgarian immigrant struggling to make a name for himself in a world where the odds are stacked against him. The script he has written was intended for himself to play, but those who pull the industry strings have other ideas. Posh has decided the role is for him and relishes the challenge and fun of performing in a ‘gritty’ independent film set ‘up North’ with ‘an outrageous accent’ and ‘red hair’. He has no problem with usurping the identity of others, compromising himself and undermining his friend. Those in the industry respond to his charm and confidence, and so he is cast.Working Class Hero adopts the style of satirical sketch comedy, with SNL scenes and nods to absurdism, combined with plot twists, silly wigs, multiple accents and a host of characters. Some tense moments are woven into the overall light-hearted, energetic and comic approach to a story that makes serious points about how the industry and British class system operate.The play opens up important issues and, with development, there is material for another play, possibly a sequel – a story that delves more deeply into the impact of events on their relationship. At the same time, the focus in this work might be tightened without losing any of the fun.Under the title of Migrant Class Hero the play transfers to Pleasance for the 5th and 6th of December and is well worth checking out.

It’s Nutcracker time of year, and for those who fancy a novel take on Tchaikovsky’s original, Carlos Acosta’s Nutcracker in Havana is currently on tour. On a chilly November evening, the Victorian Baroque splendour of Richmond Theatre stands in sharp contrast to the opening video projections of life in the heat of Cuba and the forested area where the show is set.Pepe Gavilondo’s arrangement of the original score retains the most famous and popular tunes in clearly recognisable form, while other sections are given more varied interpretations. What dominates are the rhythms and sounds of Caribbean music, along with heavy use of woodwind and brass. Modern post-jazz age and regional sounds are assimilated into the score, and while there is ample, perfectly executed classical ballet, no opportunity is missed to incorporate contemporary styles that provide freedom of movement and a more relaxed feel. While not in the league of La Fille Mal Gardée, there are even numbers featuring wooden-soled shoes and a maypole to add to the festive village atmosphere. Clearly relishing the light-hearted fun of this piece are members of Acosta Danza Yunior. Their obvious enjoyment is infectious, and it’s a thrill to see the next generation’s passion and talent on display.Meanwhile, the well-established Alejandro Silva gives a commanding performance as the Prince, acting as a master of ceremonies and calling forth dancers to perform their set pieces for Carla (Adria Diaz) after the main story has unfolded in Act 1. Alexander Verona delivers a delightful character performance as Drosselmeyer. The second half dances are the highlight of the evening, however.Amisaday Naara is enchanting as the Sugar Plum Fairy, alongside Melisa Mordera and Alexander Arias as the lead Flower couple. The scenes follow in rapid succession as the entertainment builds up. The Four Cooks (Aniel Pazos, Noel Sánchez, Edgar Quintero, and Anthony Quevedo) provide a light-hearted interlude. The Spanish Dance is delivered with Iberian passion by Thalia Cardin and Frank Junior, while Ofelia Rodriguez and Paul Brando provide a contrasting set of rhythms in the Arabian Dance. The light, almost comic orchestration of the Mirlitons is given appropriate treatment by Wendy Friol, Cynthia Garceran, and Aniel Pazos. The world tour continues with dances that reflect their places of origin, energetically executed by Leandro Fernandez and Edgar Quintero in the Chinese Dance, and Adria Diaz and Brandy Martinez in the Russian Dance.It all makes for a delightfully light-hearted entertainment in a seasonal wonderland.

The Lost Estate theatre company is currently hosting their lavish seasonal offering in what has now become something of a tradition. The Great Christmas Feast, with much cheer and a measure of humbug, satisfies not only the senses but the stomach too.For the purposes of Adam Clifford’s adaptation and the theatrical dining experience, we’re the honoured guests of the rising author Charles Dickens. It is Christmas Eve, 1843, and we’re about to hear him share his latest work, A Christmas Carol, while enjoying a three-course meal served between the acts, with a range of cocktails, wines, beers and non-alcoholic drinks also available courtesy of his publishers, who are present and whom he is out to impress.It’s a laid-back immersive event. We are seated in the round at tables in a great Victorian parlour while the performance takes place in all directions, utilising four stages, with waiting staff and hosts scurrying around serving food and drinks and making sure that everyone is having a grand time. You might, however, be asked to perform a short scripted part as one of the characters in Scrooge’s story.Director Simon Pittman has maximised the setting’s potential, creating various locations that feature in the story around the room. There is plenty of movement between them and the excitement of trap doors opening. The action is heightened by the spectacular sound and lighting created by the company and the delightful musical accompaniment of variations on Christmas carols from Guy Button (violin), Beth Higham-Edwards (percussion) and Kieran Carter (cello).This afternoon, playing the role of Dickens, the narrator and many other characters in this monodrama, is Tama Phethean, who along with André Refig is one of two alternate actors to the main performer for the run, David Alwyn. He gives an impassioned performance, bringing characters to life and relishing his role as the host surrounded by so many guests. It is perhaps overly blasted out and some quieter, more reflective moments would add contrast and nuance, but this is ultimately a jolly and festive production.The event makes for a delightfully party-like occasion which would be fun to share with a group of family or friends, or just as a seasonal outing for two.

Founded this year, QVIA’s debut project, HIDDEN VOICES, is an ambitious work that blends narrative with music in an exploration of queer elements in the lives of six famous composers.In most cases we know these people by their music and in some cases perhaps a few things about them, but the challenge for QVIA was to highlight the lesser-known private lives of Franz Schubert (1797-1823), Frederic Chopin (1810-1849), Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (1840-1883), Dame Ethel Smyth (1858-1944), Francis Poulenc (1899-1963) and Benjamin Britten (1913-1978) and their love for members of the same sex, when such feelings generally had to be kept secret and, for the men, any sexual activity was illegal. It is their correspondence and other personal writings, however, that exposes their secret and through which we are made aware of their true feelings and inclinations.Staged under the vivid red-arched ceiling at the end of The Space on the Isle of Dogs, as part of the Volia Festival, the colour palette is picked up in the radiant costumes of pianist Judith Valerie Engel and actor Simon Christian, with mezzo-soprano Neelam Brader dressed in a white sleeveless two-piece. Combined with the setting and grand piano there is certainly the air of classical performance or drawing-room entertainment about this production.The piano pieces and songs from the respective composers are interwoven throughout the narrative; some more well-known than others, but each reflecting the moods of the composers in coming to terms with their situations. There is a feeling, however, that the clever concept outweighs the delivery. While this is not officially a work in progress, there is ample room for further development and refining of the production, perhaps in the choice of pieces and the clarity of transitions from one composer’s story to the next. Costumes, projections and background information might make for greater clarity in transitions from one character to another. That letters were never intended for performance also poses its own difficulties.Nevertheless, this is an exciting and original first work in terms of the company’s potential to create an idiosyncratic style of theatre.

Samantha Streit is a New York-born, London-based actor and writer who has brought her two-person play, Letters to Joan, directed by Martavius Parrish, to Barons Court Theatre as part of the Voila! Festival.It’s 1956 in Brooklyn. An aspiring playwright falls in love and begins to put pen to paper in what will become a series of exchanges running to hundreds of letters and cards. They are full of hopes and fears, ambitions and intentions, but above all they are outpourings of love and desire.The play is inspired by the real love letters Streit's grandparents exchanged. Playing the role herself, she thinks back to the time when they were written and what they went through. As she reflects on their content, questions emerge to which she would love to know the answers. Then, as her Grandpa (Kevin Cahill) appears, an imaginary meeting between them takes place across time. Sitting in a local diner, she has the opportunity to piece together the contents of the letters and probe more deeply into what lay behind them and the love story that was complicated by depression and an unfulfilled dream.Streit exudes enthusiasm, energy and a fervent enquiring mind that keeps pushing Grandpa to reveal more. Meanwhile, Cahill calmly and gently reveals how Lenny prefers to think about the small things that made life and their relationship so charming. It’s a delight to see characters and actors engage across a two-generation divide and in particular to witness Cahill’s seasoned performance.In an age of emails, boxes of bound letters will no longer exist for future generations to devise works like this, which has a certain bygone charm to it and encourages young people to ask all they can of their older family members before it's too late.It's an endearing piece that impacts some more than others in terms of family relationships, following your dreams and the passing of loved ones.

Billed as a dark comedy, Starfish, by theatre company Two Right Feet, makes its London debut at the Bread and Roses Theatre. Written by Offie-nominated writer Richard Fitchett and directed by Lucy Appleby, the play references an adaptation of Loren Eiseley’s oft-told story The Star Thrower.Eric (Peter Saracen) is an Abba-loving homeless man who knows under which garden pot Cheryl (Emma Riches) hides the emergency key to her house. He decides to let himself in and cooks dinner in readiness for her and her partner Tim’s (Ed Jobling) return from a day’s teaching. The smell of food raises their suspicions even before Eric emerges from the bathroom. Tim’s initially threatening attitude softens under Cheryl’s influence and the realisation that allowing Eric to stay the night could be seen as an extension of all the good they do through their monthly charitable donations.The one-night stay, however, becomes a week, then a month, and eventually many more, as Eric increasingly takes over the house, remodelling it to his own taste. Attempts to palm him off on Karin (Lisa Minichiello), who runs a shelter for homeless people, come to nothing. The twist in the story reveals the truth about Eric and ultimately sees him move on. It had to happen – but how and why becomes the play’s central question.Starfish requires a willing suspension of disbelief to accept the initial circumstances and the rationale behind the couple allowing a complete stranger to live in their home. What fascinates is the subtle way Eric carries out his clearly well-planned manoeuvres to create the home he desires. The couple’s accommodating nature is commendable, if not always credible, and there is an overt message about the appalling state of homelessness in this country and what we could all do to help.A surprising 15-minute interval interrupts the flow and extends the running time to 95 minutes. Performances are solid, while moments of humour combine with an entertaining story that carries an important social message.

Filippo Ruggieri codirects and performs with Patrizio Recchioni and members of the Mancanze collective in Ci Conosciamo Già (We Already Know Each Other) at Catania Fringe OFF.It is a dark drama that deals with the consequences of drug addiction, criminality and the difficult road to recovery. It lays bare the workings of institutions and those who work within a system that tries to help people change their lives, and confronts the conflicts that can arise between what is permitted and what people of good will want to achieve.Enrico is a social worker at a rehabilitation centre in Pescara that is notorious for having one of Italy’s highest relapse rates. But he is relatively new to the institution and has developed his own approach to helping young people recover from drug addiction. When a young fugitive seeks asylum, he finds himself placed in a position that risks serious damage to his career and the organisation. How far is he prepared to bend the rules for the sake of one person and what he believes in?The five characters, though from different backgrounds, are brought together almost as a family, with varying bonds of affection and commitment to each other. Within the often claustrophobic setting, love and compassion face challenges to truth and even betrayal, as inner demons and ghosts from the past emerge and they reveal their own stories.Each member of the ensemble gives a powerful performance and creates a focused and consistent character in roles that are clearly defined. There is room for some editing and perhaps a more nuanced approach to the text, which demands passion and emotional involvement but not always at full volume.It’s a raw presentation of challenging material that draws us into the complexities of the plot and invites personal reflection while standing in another person’s shoes.

Using a philosophical work as the stimulus for a performance piece is an ambitious undertaking, but the result is on show at the Catania Fringe with Margot Theatre Company’s Aut-Aut, which arises from their reading of Søren Kierkegaard’s eponymous book.His writing is in two volumes, fitting for a work that explores the notion of choices through the simple proposition of “either/or”. Both parts present a style of existence. The first is that of the aesthete, a position that will lead a person to a state of psychological despair after recognising the limits of this lifestyle. This then leads to a second, ethical stage of rational choice and commitment.How clearly this translates into the 50-minute movement performance, with only a couple of paragraphs of text, requires imagination and interpretation. The physicality of the piece is highly appealing, with the three characters engaged in a moto perpetuo of exchanges that embrace levels, floor work, and well-devised repeated motifs in various sequences.Central to the performance is a large suitcase and its contents. It is embraced, discarded, lifted up, and thrown to the floor in ways that both accept and reject what it symbolises. Then its contents are explored, and one of the female cast members discovers numerous dresses, which she proceeds to put on one after another, only to take them all off and repeat the process. The suitcase is never fully opened, only unzipped enough to allow access. Next, a number of boxes are found within that must be constructed. Meanwhile, four differently sized picture frames capture the man’s face, as though he is a live portrait, but they also frame his surroundings as he looks through them to the world outside.The characters manipulate their world and seek to interpret it. This can be seen as a search for meaning – an exploration of the world around them while they ponder the world within. Throughout, however, we are given space to place our own interpretation on what we see, considering how the soundscape, mostly of piano and cello music, affects the mood and relates to the actions.Would this be immediately recognised as a piece inspired by Kierkegaard’s philosophical speculations? Probably not, but that is the nature of a stimulus. Its purpose is to inspire the work; to be the creator’s servant, not master.

The essential elements of good theatre come together in Luigi Orfeo’s Pene, Sofferenze del Mondo Contemporaneo at Fringe Catania Off, which he co-directs tightly with Roberta Calia. The obvious translation of the title, Pains, Sufferings of the Contemporary World, loses the Italian pun in which the plural pene also means “penises” or, colloquially, “dicks”.Focusing entirely on the male of the species, this neatly structured solo work consists of five vignettes exploring different aspects of the male psyche, framed by a prologue and an epilogue. As the lights come up on Luigi Orfeo’s dramatically dim stage, we see the contorted, naked figure of Stefano Sartore. He resembles the muscular depictions of St Sebastian before the arrows pierce his body. Pain and suffering are incarnate against a vivid, blood-red wall.He tells us that scientific studies from the University of Wisconsin prove “that the world is beautiful but humanity is shit”, and references Cain and Abel to show that the “genesis of humankind is disgusting” – that we have inflicted pain on one another since the dawn of time. And the source of all this? The “dick”. “The dick is not only that proboscis part of the body, it’s a way of thinking, it’s an attitude.” He offers several examples before the prologue ends.Thereafter, wearing costumes carefully devised by designer Augusta Tibaldeschi, we meet a succession of characters embodying contrasting aspects of masculinity. First comes a gruff, deep-voiced man with fascist leanings, irritably finishing a game of solitaire. He explains that just as he cannot turn a king into a knight, so the natural order of things cannot be changed – that there is a place for everyone and everything. He laments the fluidity of the modern world.He is followed by a racist killer pleading his innocence, and, in stark contrast, a loving father nursing his baby daughter after being abandoned by his wife. Then comes an elderly gay man who, having little to do with women, reminisces, indulges his memories and offers his perspective on life. Finally, we meet a man dealing with noisy neighbours while recounting the horrors of war.The piece ends where it began – back at the University of Wisconsin – with the thought that perhaps we should start all over again, but in a different world, one without the supremacy of the “dick”. “And this time, from the Garden of Eden, let’s try not to get ourselves expelled.”It’s a provocative production that reflects on mentality, masculinity and power, in which Sartore creates strong, credible and gripping characters who bear the burdens of life. Their maleness has shaped the contemporary world – if not on a grand scale, then certainly in their perceptions and their effects on others.

Helen Shapiro was aged just 14 when she shot to fame in 1961 with two No. 1 hit singles, You Don't Know and Walkin' Back to Happiness. Voted “Number One Female British Singer” in that year and in 1962, record sales in excess of one million copies for each song gained her two gold discs, and she went on to become the teen sensation of the ’60s.Her story is faithfully related in Kingdom Theatre Company’s biographical play Helen Shapiro, Walkin’ Back at Dundee Fringe, following a sell-out run at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe. The production is an imaginatively devised piece of theatre that honours Shapiro while going beyond the style of a tribute show, performed by a company of student learners, not professional performers – though many have considerable experience for their years.Despite the tight confines of the venue, and with help from CEO Lorraine Brown as stage manager and Lorna Cairns as production assistant, director Izzy Brown creates a split stage of a period classroom and the recording studios at Abbey Road. Costumes and hairstyles further faithfully confirm the age we are in.A reflective prologue, complete with song from Erin Gilliland-Patterson as a mature Helen, sets the scene before we are taken back to her school days. Four girls sit at desks, one of whom is Lily B. Martin, also aged 14, playing Shapiro. How’s that for authenticity? She acts and sings with confidence beyond her years, while reminding us that Shapiro was just a very ordinary schoolgirl with dreams and the good fortune to be discovered. Martin’s command of the Shapiro songs and the many others specially written for the show by Willie Logan is remarkable. The new songs are well crafted and blend effortlessly into the musical genre of the day and John Murray’s script.As we move through the years, her classmates (Mya Harley, Sadie Lax and Betsy Simmons) grow with Helen and display their outstanding vocal talents as her backing singers and in songs of their own. We meet her songwriter John Schroeder and hear some fine vocals from Theo Hart in that role, also doubling as John Lennon. Scott Hunter, meanwhile, reveals the politics and pressures of the business as the astute producer Norrie Paramor at Columbia Studios. Meanwhile, Anne Hart as Helen’s teacher remains left behind as a doubter of Helen’s dreams.The show is slightly cumbersome in places, but there is nothing that couldn’t be made smoother and slicker in a more expansive venue. All the elements make for an entertaining, musically rich, multimedia experience.

Perhaps contrary to expectations, Do Astronauts Masturbate in Space? is not about the sexual activities of those circling the Earth in spaceships, but, in the words of the company, “a dystopian, dark, physical theatre comedy”. It premiered at this year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe after a London preview and is now at Dundee Fringe.The play’s setting is a future Britain ruled by an authoritarian regime whose control the people fear and whose intervention in their lives is absolute. A law, innocuously called the Parental Act, requires all couples to apply for a licence in order to have children. Trying to see a lighter side to this invasion of privacy, the people refer to it as a Stork Card.Under different circumstances, as a young couple, Lily (Briony Martha) and Gareth (Zak Reay-Barry) might be looking forward to raising a family. Instead, the unexpected pregnancy instils panic as they face the prospect of attending the week-long mandated Retreat, in a bid to gain their Stork Card, and a government-imposed abortion should they fail the various tests and questionings they are subjected to. Their initial attitude of “Oh, it can’t be that bad,” and “Everything will be alright” is soon eroded, and no number of Digestive biscuits can allay their concerns. They are placed under the auspices of The Voice (Torya Winters), whose tone and questioning become increasingly threatening as the process grows destructive to their relationship.Under the impactful direction of Megan Brewer, this first project by the couple is packed with humour and physicality, using only a couple of light cubes and various costumes for effect – an appropriately minimalist and clinical setting, suitably lit by Ruben Sparks. Reay-Barry plays a phlegmatic, rational male in contrast to Martha’s often hilariously emotional and hysterical female, with outbursts that lighten the dire situation. They make a well-balanced double act of opposites.As to the title, it is given voice and almost elicits a sigh of relief as we finally hear where it fits in and our curiosity is satisfied – a great moment. The play is a triumph in tackling serious and increasingly credible threats to freedom and issues of state oppression, brought home through familiar personal relationships and comedy, and augurs well for future works.

Theatre often affords rare opportunities, and at Dundee Fringe this week we had the chance to hear the delightfully evocative voice of Lucy Beth in her solo show Ma Name Is Isabelle.It comes as no surprise that Beth was nominated for the Artist of the Year award as part of the Scottish Emerging Talent Awards in 2024. She is an accomplished storyteller who has honed her craft with the skills that make for engagement. The varying paces and levels of delivery are embedded in the emotions of the storyline: sometimes soft and lyrical, carefully measuring the metre of rhyming couplets that assist the flow of the narrative, then in marked contrast raging with anger as the story becomes darker and she voices Isabelle’s frustrations.Running for a tight 45 minutes, Beth introduces the story with an explanatory note in English regarding the language and style of the work. Why? Because the story itself is delivered in Doric, her native dialect from the north-east of Scotland, giving an aspect to the performance as intriguing as the story itself.Many words are shared by both languages and others are so closely related in sound that their meaning in context is clear. Some words and expressions might be unknown to non-Doric speakers, but again the manner of delivery and setting allow for a good guess at what is being said.It is Beth’s talent in that area that makes listening so easy and joyful. Seemingly lacking the harsher gutturals of Gaelic, the tone for the most part is mellifluous and the mood mellow, reflecting the pastoral Highland nature of the story. However, it can still be spat out with the throat fully engaged, especially when delivering words that end in “cht” and “ght”, with the tongue working overtime, rapidly vibrating the uvula at the alveolar ridge to produce the trill – the art of simply rolling your r’s.The story is a reimagining of the famous bothy ballad Bogie’s Bonnie Belle, related from the protagonist’s perspective – an angle that historically has been overlooked. Isabelle is a young woman who was impregnated against her will by her lover, James, on her father’s farm. She expresses the challenges she faced in her relationship with James and the conflicts she endured as an unmarried mother whose pain was increased by the removal of her son. The tale highlights the strict moral codes of local communities and the church. The weight of inner shame, public disgrace and excommunication from the community that young women endured is matched in Isabelle’s case by her resilience, strength and triumph over adversity.Ma Name Is Isabelle is a superbly told and powerful statement about female oppression and degradation that also bears witness to the courage of making a stand and fighting back.AcknowledgementsThe work was commissioned by Eden Court Theatre and Tobar an Dualchais/Kist O Riches, Scotland’s online resource dedicated to the presentation and promotion of audio recordings of the country’s cultural heritage, as part of the Scrieve Project for the 2024 Under Canvas festival. During the research and development process, Lucy collaborated with Kist O Riches Scots song cataloguer Chris Wright to research Belle’s experiences and present a speculative yet plausible depiction of what she may have endured.

Beneath the rustic facade of The Weir lie themes that resonate with personal experience, adding a depth that will be different for each audience member, bearing out the idea that “the tallest tales reveal the deepest truths”.Written and directed by Conor McPherson at the Harold Pinter Theatre, Rae Smith’s costume and set design roots us in the realism that pervades the play. We are immediately at home in a rural Irish pub, with shelves of whiskey bottles and beer taps that will dispense a good many pints during the next hour and three-quarters. The dark woodwork of the walls, bar top and occasional tables, dining chairs and stools dominate the room, while a couple of upholstered armchairs provide more comfortable seating. With the bar set to one side, the stage is open with plenty of room for movement and changes of position. This is important for a play that consists largely of each character, in turn, telling a story while the others listen. In between their tales there is lively banter and plenty of classic Irish humour. Mark Henderson’s subdued amber lighting, which dims so warmly, completes the moody scene against the background of a windy night, subtly created by sound designer Gregory Clarke.Undeterred by the weather, four local men gather for yet another night in the pub. Owen McDonnell awaits them as Brendan, the barman, who is part of the furniture. Humble yet convivial, he knows his customers well, meets their needs, listens to their words and conveys a welcoming charm. With him is his long-standing handyman Jim. Seán McGinley is many years older than the suggested age in the original script, but his wealth of years is ideally suited to the slightly cynical local whose spontaneous quips show that he misses nothing.There is much that is very ordinary in what they say, as is the norm in bar-room chat, and with lyrical Irish voices the joy is as much in the sounds as the content. Brendan Gleeson dominates as soon as he enters, with his hulking figure and wry smile. He is Jack, the man around whom the evening seems to revolve, though all the characters have their turn. He soon turns the everyday into a personal revelation of Jack’s lost love – a melancholy reminiscence of what might have been that has haunted him for decades.In contrast, Tom Vaughan-Lawlor is every bit the showman as Finbar, a spiv who behaves as though he might break into a song-and-dance routine while selling you a dodgy second-hand car. He has actually left the village for Dublin and a real estate agency, and he has brought his outside influences home with him. He has also brought Valerie. Kate Phillips plays the only non-Irish character, who shows the unease of being an outsider but ends up having the most tragic story of them all, and gains their sympathies.The Weir is a snapshot of common interactions and testament to the power of simplicity. Nothing much happens, but all stands witness to the emotional strength of storytelling, the joys of camaraderie and how much we need the things we so often take for granted.

Take a deep breath. Actually, take several deep breaths, because you’re going to need them. Meanwhile, close your eyes and get pumped up to the disco rhythms of Pet Shop Boys and the voice of Jimmy Somerville proclaiming I Feel Love. There's nothing to see; the stage is bare.What follows is about language, delivery, and performance; about playwright Philip Ridley, actor Louis Davison, and director Weibke Green — an experienced triumvirate of talent that takes the Arcola Theatre by storm for some 90 minutes or so with The Poltergeist; an exhilarating monodrama of breathtaking intensity.Davison owns the space from the moment he walks on and surveys the scene, which is his audience. His blue-grey eyes are wide open, and his strikingly shaped eyebrows move up and down, giving expression to his thoughts and emotions. He’s 26, 5'11" (1.80m), with short hair. He looks casually cool, wearing a white t-shirt, an open-fronted short-sleeved beige shirt, black belted trousers, and matching narrow chains around his neck and left wrist. With his presence asserted, he bursts into creating the character of Sasha.Outward appearances can be deceptive, and beneath the smooth exterior, Sasha is a deeply disturbed individual. At the age of 15, he was hailed as a prodigy by the art world. His works were sought after, and he had high hopes of becoming a superstar. A tragedy turned all that on its head, and now he lives in a run-down flat with Chet, his out-of-work boyfriend, and is unknown.Reluctantly, they both attend a children's party to celebrate his niece’s birthday. Though not direct family, Chet has less of an issue with it than Sasha. He has to deal with the birthday girl, whom he delights in referring to as “the brat,” his brother, Flynn, with whom he has a strained relationship, and likewise with his sister-in-law, Niamh. The event serves as the catalyst for emotional reflection on a past that haunts him while he angrily deals with the present. At breakneck speed, Davison creates each of these characters and more, each precisely defined with posture, accent, and gesture, as Sasha becomes embroiled in codeine-fueled conversations and commentary. Every inch of space is used under Green’s direction, and Davison exposes Sasha’s tormented condition not just through the agile delivery of the hugely demanding text, but also the energy and vigour with which he moves from one location to the next.Ridley has created a massively demanding role in Sasha, but as with Joseph Potter three years ago, when the play was performed at the Arcola, Davison excels in interpreting the part and delivering an astonishing, awe-inspiring performance.

Philip Ridley was already known as a visual artist and screenwriter (The Krays) when his first professional stage play was performed at the old Bush Theatre in 1991. The Pitchfork Disney took the theatre world by storm. Now acclaimed as a seminal work, it received a mixed reception at the time: mostly negative from established critics, but positive from young audiences who relished the power, complexity and vivid imagery of his writing, and the brazen affront to dramatic norms.Haley (Elizabeth Connick) and Presley (Ned Costello) live in isolation. It’s ten years since an unspecified event took their parents away, and nothing has changed in the house they grew up in. They have barely matured, still behaving as children. The only growth has been in their fear of the outside world – and their love of chocolate.Kit Hinchcliffe’s design and Ben Jacobs’s lighting faithfully create the ‘dimly lit room in the East End of London’ with furnishings that are ‘worn and faded’. The pallid palette runs through the walls, the fabric of the shabby sofa and the carpet. Along with the wooden table and chest of drawers, everything belongs to a bygone age.Their lives revolve around stories, some based on past events and wildly embellished, others drawn from a post-apocalyptic vision of a world in which only they and their house survive. They listen with biblical devotion to each other retelling these tales, sometimes interjecting with an extra detail which is then absorbed into the next version. Both deliver remarkably intense, fast-paced monologues: two highly animated ones early on from Connick, followed later by a five-page belter from Costello (one of the longest ever written for the stage).They shun the outside world and relationships, except their own as non-identical twins. Presley reluctantly visits the corner shop, but Haley never ventures out, always successfully arguing her case to remain in the safety of the house. Five front-door locks guard against intruders – in their minds, only minimal protection against who or what might enter. Haley trusts Presley never to let anyone in, but one day he sees a tall, 18-year-old blonde Adonis getting out of a car and opens the door while she is deep in her daily drug-induced sleep.Presley sees in Cosmo (William Robinson) someone who might give him the recognition he craves – the sort his father used to give him with a pat on the head. Although the air simmers with sexual undertones, Presley makes his position clear: “I am not a homosexual. I just want you to say my name.” Now the tension really mounts. Robinson’s Cosmo has an unnerving, menacing demeanour, his behaviour able to change on a whim. But the truly terrifying experience comes with the entrance of his performance partner, Pitchfork Cavalier (Matt Yulish), a latter-day Darth Vader who cannot speak but makes chilling noises. That these figures are recognisably human makes their words and actions all the more daunting.It’s a play of contrasts: the past and the present; the real and the imaginary; logical arguments derived from irrational premises; spaciousness and claustrophobia. The most grotesque figure is also the gentlest. Power and control is a battleground for the twins, but Cosmo takes it to another level, showing the malign manipulation and darkness of human nature in full force. If Cosmo feeds his obsession with money by eating cockroaches as part of his pub act, Presley is coerced into doing so as an act of submission.If you want to know what all the fuss was about in 1991, visit the King’s Head Theatre, Islington, for this stunningly performed production, brilliantly directed by Max Harrison for Lidless Theatre. It’s an engrossing, mesmerising and disquieting theatrical triumph.

A birth is danced in The Nest at theSpace @ Niddry Street, marking the first professional show by the company Ale Martín, dedicated to building bridges between Butoh and contemporary dance.In an interview with Broadway Baby, Spanish performer Alejandro Martín de Mier explained that Butoh is a Japanese style of dance dating from the 1960s. “It’s characterised by slow movements and an abstract way of showing ideas and meanings. It really goes to the subconscious part of the mind.” There is no formal technique to Butoh, but he has a background in contact improvisation, contemporary dance and physical theatre, which is evident in this performance.Speaking of The Nest, he said, “It's about birth and transformation. It is a way of living. Imagine each moment lived as a baby trying to come into this world; a small chicken cracking the egg. In my show, I present reality, rawness, struggle, enthusiasm, joy and pain.”His movements are a study in the art of control. Positioned mostly on the floor or, when standing, bent in two, we witness a series of foetal contortions with minute and intricate movements of the feet, hands and fingers, along with rotations on the spot. Shaking and quivering occasionally give way to stretching sequences that suggest the unborn’s struggle and hope for birth and release from the confines of the womb, though that moment has not yet arrived.The soundscape, combined with music created and performed live by his partner JULI(o), attempts to capture the feelings associated with birth: “pleasure, contractions, fear, pushing, heaviness, excitement, release, intensity.” He explains, “First, we just use guitar and amplifier, drone style with a little bit of hardcore. Second, absolute silence. And third – oh! I love it! – it is a loop in crescendo with different instruments like Tibetan singing bowls, claves, shaker, hand drum, voice and other sound effects.” The effect is both ethereal and earthy, reflecting and enhancing the moods associated with birth, with the help of simple lighting that ensures the focus is always on the movement.These elements combine in a fascinating and hypnotic dance, a slow-motion evocation of the first tentative movements of a new life.

For a play that starts just after nine o’clock in the morning, you might be forgiven for thinking the cleaners have forgotten to put their trolley away, but it is actually a clue that Romeo & Juliet: Out of Pocket at theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall is going to be an irreverent take on the Bard’s great romantic tragedy.The two-person adaptation begins with an exchange between the professors who co-teach the Shakespeare course. Eduardo Zucchi plays the visiting Mexican academic who sees and emphasises la pasión of the text, while his British scholar counterpart, Felicity Ison, is obsessed with structure, language and grammar. What follows is a high-energy, eccentric and bonkers romp through the play that debates whether it is one of hope or despair but ends with the pair overcome by the sheer romance in the air.The aforementioned trolley, complete with cleaning items, mops, gloves and a host of other bits and pieces, is actually the props repository and the couple waste no time in deploying it. Director Alonso Iñiguez has them frantically using everything they can lay their hands on to create over-the-top characters and boost the comedy.The accomplished performers work well as a physical theatre comic duo, bouncing off each other’s energy to create a fast-paced, frantic farce that is mad but fun. Some lines and speeches from the original play are also given a twist in delivery, confirming that even the most sacred text can be abused and distorted.Do not be deterred by its being advertised as bilingual. The bulk of Argentine playwright Emiliano Dionisi’s script is in English and the few lines that remain in Spanish can be understood by context and add to the humour.Grab a coffee and enjoy a light-hearted, lively start to the morning that should put you in a good mood for the rest of the day.

Prepare to be transported to another world – or at least to deep space on an enterprise of the starship Theseus with just one person on board, August. Having visited the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, the mission has now reached Dundee Fringe, where Shallowspace Cryotech Feverdream is receiving similar recognition as a startling debut work from trans writer and performer Callie O’Brien and the team at Elastic Fantastic, who created Deeptime Atomic Waste Pleasure Party.August’s mission is to protect a deep-space digitised archive of civilisation. Although rigorously trained and theoretically prepared for the task, the reality of isolation and cryogenic stasis becomes a deeply disturbing experience. The monotonous drudgery of repeated routines and the recurrent recitation of data begin to take their toll. In a performance that is both physically demanding and mentally taxing, O’Brien personifies how August’s psyche becomes increasingly tormented by resurrected dreams, memories of home and wonderings of what it must now be like – all accompanied by strange feelings in her limbs, as though on a rack.A complex and evocative original synth-wave soundtrack of noises and diegetics, co-created by O’Brien and sound designer Fraser White, pulses over projected visuals, interspersed with voiceovers and songs composed by the highly talented Ronan Goron. This ambitious soundscape is played in cold steel lighting, colour effects, blinking bulbs and icy mist – the multi-talented O’Brien also being responsible for lighting.Although alone in person, there is the ever-present AI voice: a menacing, chilling and uncompromising presence in a pre-recording by Ally Haughey. What comes through the loudspeakers is a constant and demanding reminder that there is no turning back, no chance to abandon the project – only to endure whatever the mission requires and, if necessary, suffer.Referred to by the company as a “Trans Sci-Fi Body Horror Play”, it more than ticks all those boxes, but rather than falling into any narrow genre, it has universal appeal. Depending on where you’re coming from and the area that most appeals to you, there is plenty for everyone in each of those descriptors.Beyond any content or message, however, is the grippingly powerful and commanding performance of O’Brien that evokes a deep “wow” exhalation.

Fragen Network bring their distinctive style of experimental theatre to theSpace on the Mile with Hunger, an adaptation of Knut Hamsun’s late-19th-century groundbreaking novel.Their reimagining begins with the anonymous Writer sailing away from Kristiania on a boat bound for England as a deck hand. He is exhausted, wet from the rain and waves, and has a fever. The book he will go on to write is only just formulating in his mind as he relives his memories of poor choices and the cruelty of his time in Norway.Stylistically intense, physical and immersive, the cast are already performing as we enter, surrounded by an array of masks. The sounds of seagulls and crashing waves accompany sweeping and cleaning movements on deck. Verbal engagement with us recurs throughout. While carrying out mundane tasks, phantoms of the past appear. He would like them to go away, but knows that the intrinsic value of all he has endured is the key to the masterpiece he will soon pen. For now he experiences an in-between state – a latter-day Janus marking the points between two different times and the dualities of suffering and hope.The performance is divided into four parts, with three memory sections each assigned a dominant colour: yellow, green and red. The fourth part, under natural white light, weaves between them in the present. The vignettes illustrate events in his life of poverty. We meet a limping beggar, a cake seller, the organ grinder’s daughter who calls the police on him, and we witness the famous parade down Karl Johan, a daily ritual in which the leisure classes of Kristiania meet and greet one another. He plays a prank on two sisters, follows them home and falls in love with the one who looks out of the window at him, naming her Ylajali. Next, he finds lodgings, where we are introduced to the landlady, her husband and father, whom he taunts, before a sailor arrives to lodge and seduces the landlady. Finally, he fantasises about Ylajali. In trying to understand her, he applies makeup and dons a glamorous dress.Hunger is an extraordinary and complex piece; a niche work that may not have mass appeal but will certainly impress theatre buffs. It is influenced by German Expressionism, the Neue Tanz of Mary Wigman and Harald Kreutzberg, Butoh pioneers Kazuo Ohno and Tatsumi Hijikata, as well as Munch and Käthe Kollwitz. There is even a flicker of Chaplin’s tragic Tramp.Writer and director Roland Reynolds performs with Zaza Bagley, Angel Lopez-Silva and Anastasiya Zinovieva, with design by Denis Girenko, lighting by Zidi Wu and photography by Yijia Fu and Xin Wei.

This is no Taggart detective drama, but suffice it to say, “There’s been a murder!” and a small town in Fife is shaken to its core. The place is riddled with police; the net curtains are quivering and the tongues are wagging. Thus, Without Compromise Theatre sets the scene for Derby Day, which makes its debut at theSpace Triplex.For one tight-knit group of friends, however, the event is too close to home for comfort, and matters need to be resolved. The victim is their lifelong friend. The investigation is dragging on and those conducting it have met a wall of silence, as anxiety mounts within the group. They have already been interviewed, but have given only the bare essentials of the night he left them and was later found dead.Jade is pregnant. Kirsty Stevenson creates an appropriately calm, motherly character who seems to be the main source of stability, given the chaos that is to come. She talks comfortingly to her sister-in-law Chloe. Maria Woodside balances her vulnerability as the victim of sexual abuse with the durability she demonstrates in living – if not coping – with the trauma.The tension in the air is amplified incrementally with each scene, an artful writing skill that makes the narrative increasingly captivating. With the entry of father-to-be Danny, Xander Cowan takes us to the next level. Clearly all is not well with him, not just because it is Derby Day and he has to shout at the TV in support of his team. He knows things he has not told the polis. Cowan starts by appearing nervous and on edge before he explodes in the next scene, when his buddy Harris pushes him too far and confronts him with the harsh reality of the mess they are in.With Kieran Lee-Hamilton, at his impassioned and forceful best, barking reason brilliantly opposite the irrationality of Cowan, we are soon thrust into perhaps the most confrontational, aggressive and chilling argument at the Fringe. The hair-raising rammy, as they might call it, is a stunning piece of theatre. All that remains is for painful decisions to be made and for events to take their inevitable course.Writer Michael Johnson more than fulfils the company’s aim of telling honest, working-class stories for working-class audiences and beyond. He tackles abuse and criminality head on with credibility, staged against a stark white set designed by Danny Menzies and Loz that allows nothing to detract from the intense dialogue. Meanwhile, director Lucy Pedersen superbly builds and relaxes the tension in a model arc.There is a side to the story that remains unfulfilled and leaves a question hanging, but maybe, like Taggart, there will be another episode. Let us hope so.

The Fiascoholics are bringing the world to an end with a brand-new crazy comedy 4’S A CROWD (Or What Not to Do When Stuck in a Bunker During the Apocalypse) at theSpace@Surgeons Hall.Which means it’s really all over before it starts, but that doesn’t stop the company from dutifully regulating admission to the bunker and devising rules for living together in an apocalyptic age, where the only survivors are the people you might have wished dead. There’s a young lad, described as just a geezer (which says it all), a zealous Welsh boy scout who certainly didn’t earn his management skills badge, a C-list actor who even at that level is overrated, and two billionaires claiming to be the same person, whose wealth has clearly increased at the cost of their brains. If these remnants of humanity are the gene bank of the future, there is little hope.Given the choices available, who would you kick out of the bunker, as thanks to another chaotic mistake, five people have turned up to take four places? Would it make any difference anyway? But critically, the supplies of Wotsits are dwindling rapidly.As the creators say, “The show aims to subvert conventional apocalyptic storytelling by rejecting the idea of heroic protagonists and instead throwing together a chaotic, selfish and deeply flawed group of characters… it is an ironic and witty satire – mocking elitism, privilege and performative activism.” I couldn’t have said it better myself, which is why I’ve left it to them, but I would quite simply add that it’s fabulously bonkers.The show clearly emerges out of an imaginative, chaotic flurry of creativity, abounding in absurdity to create a comedy that never takes itself seriously in its drive to provide exuberant entertainment. If you appreciate The League of Gentlemen and Accidental Death of an Anarchist combined with the Commedia notion that character creation reigns supreme, then this is for you.

Translating real events into a drama for the stage is a challenging quest, but the Lace Market Theatre have succeeded with a clear and compelling presentation in Once Upon a Bridge at theSpace at Surgeons Hall.On 5 May 2017, a jogger inexplicably shoved a woman into the path of a London bus on Putney Bridge, leaving the driver to narrowly avoid tragedy. Caught on CCTV, the assailant ran on as though nothing had happened. Dubbed the “Putney Pusher”, he was never identified, despite a police appeal and widespread media coverage.Sonya Kelly’s play reimagines this random act of violence in a powerfully chilling and intriguing “what if?”. Director Beverley Anthony seats the three characters most intimately involved in the incident on evenly spaced chairs, face-on to the audience, resembling interviewees. It is a starkly simple device that appropriately reflects the gravity of the situation. In turn, they provide backgrounds to themselves, relate their side of the story and reflect on how it has affected them.Luke Willis creates a cocky, self-assured jogger who almost manages to remain oblivious to the possible consequences of his actions until the horrors finally overwhelm him and he breaks down emotionally. Clare Moss sensitively and delicately relates the traumatic experience the woman endured, wondering why it had to happen to her. Gurmej Virk similarly describes events as the dutiful bus driver – a family man who takes pride in his work and punctuality and always seeks to do his very best.There is great imagination in the creation of the characters and their lives, which draws interest in them as people. Their narratives eventually collide, and the first exchange of words towards the end comes as a dramatic breakthrough.It is a reminder of how easy it is to become part of life-changing events in the impersonal urban jungle.

If charming storytelling is your thing, then The Light Catcher at theSpace on the Mile could be the perfect start to your day. Sensitively written by Niranjan Pedanekar and delicately directed by Sanket Parkhe, this English solo play traverses the world, introducing us to fascinating people as we visit a number of diverse countries.Ritika Shrotri plays a celebrated photographer who goes on an emotional search for her favourite shot. But where might she find it? She travels from the Indian sub-continent to the UK via Ethiopia, Venezuela and North Korea, relating the sounds and sights and creating vivid portraits of the people she meets: a lady in one country, an immigration officer in another, then a police officer and child, and the attractive Alejandra. In all, we are introduced to ten people for whom she devises idiosyncratic voices and characteristics, and we see her in evocatively lit scenes and silhouette, enhanced by a soundscape that creates appropriate locations and mood.The characters all have stories; some heartwarming, others hard-hitting, but they are always combined with a visual element. Since childhood she has seen things in frames, with images delineated in black and white and all the shades in between. She had a Polaroid that captured those magical moments, and now she pursues the ultimate image.Shrotri moves effortlessly from one scene to the next and from one character to the next in a series of graceful vignettes set to a pertinent soundscape in this delightful production.

In the hands of director Daniel Evans, Liz Duffy Adams’s well-researched play about the relationship between William Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe becomes something of a comic showcase for Edward Bluemel and Ncuti Gatwa – though their performances are nevertheless impressive.On the expansive stage of Wyndham’s Theatre, Born With Teeth asks us to imagine a cramped room above an inn, where the literary giants pen pages of Henry VI Part I, a work now shown to be a collaboration. It’s a tall order, especially with only a table for a set and vast banks of lights beaming out at us – 80 on the rear wall and 56 on each side – with scene changes marked by pixelated projections.In the early 1590s Marlowe was the man of the day, with Shakespeare still a mere fledgling. Marlowe was also a government spy, which gives rise to much talk of Catholic-Protestant rivalry and faith in general, along with his atheism, debauchery, procrastination and attempts to seduce his fellow playwright, placing historic rumours beyond speculation. The contrast is sharp: Will, single-minded in his commitment to finishing the play, is cast as a sensible family man who avoids trouble.Life’s dangers are well aired, but reported second-hand, which dulls their impact. If only these teeth had more to bite into – some first-hand politicking, heresy and treason to immerse us in. Instead, we are left with an abundance of physicality and frolics, mixed with too much puerile humour and schoolboy smut.

The rating of a show is not always just about the performance. As we know, many elements come together to make something truly outstanding – and this can include background research, the devising process and the purposes that a play in the realm of social drama can serve in terms of therapeutically helping others.Insiders was created through video links with Scottish prisoners during the Covid-19 pandemic and was first performed in November 2020 via live stream. The final version was devised by Sam Rowe (coordinator of Creative Expressions), Neil Leiper and Garry Sweeney from the contributions of 14 Scottish prisoners, and went on to tour 11 of Scotland’s 13 male prisons. It was devised with touring in mind, with no need for a set.The Edinburgh stop at St John’s Church sees a stage erected on the chancel steps with a black cloth forming the rear wall. Each of three chairs seats a prisoner who is in his cell. On a fourth chair is musician Michael McMillan. He plays the guitar and sings original compositions that tell stories and embrace reflections on life. In turn, the prisoners vividly describe the contents of their cells – the pictures, artefacts and memorabilia they are allowed that provide comfort and consolation. It’s a modern place that permits a TV, a mobile phone and video games. Once we have that picture, we enter the lives of the insiders.Danny (Sam Rowe) is in for murder and battles anger and loneliness. Craig (Sean Connor) is trying to put behind him years as a drug dealer and addict. He finds strength in his new faith and fervently reads his Bible. He does not want to be released because he fears going back to his old ways. Richard (Garry Sweeney) is a middle-class newcomer who does not fit in. We move from monologues to dialogue as conversations between them enhance our insight into daily routines and prison life. The air is often tense and the slightest remark can provoke a heated response. Tempers flare, insults fly and anger is released. There is harsh language and serious questioning of what God is up to – none of which is watered down for this church performance by three actors who have a fine array of accents and are completely immersed in their roles and the creation of unique individuals.Creative Expressions is a department within Bethany Christian Trust, “a national charity dedicated to ending homelessness in Scotland”. The company seeks to provide opportunities for people “to express themselves through the creative arts in communities across Scotland”. A particular aspect of its work is in the criminal justice system and prison service, often in collaboration with chaplaincy. Hence its material commonly explores “faith, recovery and rehabilitation”, enabling people to reflect and engage in forward planning “whilst developing positive networks and a renewed sense of self, aiding resettlement and reducing reoffending”.Insiders is not just a gripping drama but also a powerful vehicle for revealing prisoners as people and providing them with a means of expression.

Fast Snail Productions, a new Scottish production company, make their Fringe debut with Note of Concern at theSpace on the Mile – an intriguing, dark drama packed with dry humour, wit and intelligence.A ten-year high school reunion is taking place in the main building. One former student decides to revisit his most memorable classroom, where he was taught by his least favourite teacher. One of his former mates, from whom he became estranged after a dispute over a girl, does the same. When the door handle comes off in his hand, they find themselves trapped. An air of nostalgia overtakes them and, as they begin to resurrect the past, some hard truths emerge that neither is prepared for.Meanwhile, they start poking their noses where they don’t belong. Through mysterious clues left on the blackboard, they discover the combination to unlock the desk drawer, where they find old pink punishment slips that recall incidents from their schooldays. When they break into the store cupboard, a pungent odour is released and an unexpected twist takes the play to another level. Will the shared stress of resolving this situation reignite their friendship, or do old scars still run too deep?Note of Concern is tightly written by, and stars, Fringe veterans Will Evans and Jordan Monks. They are an engaging duo and highly accomplished actors – the sort that inspire confidence and convince you you’re in safe hands. The script is focused, developing plot and characters at pace with no excess verbiage. Slickly directed by Stephanie Austin, it is superbly delivered with an air of Orton about it: bizarre events, strange circumstances, stilted conversation in awkward situations, dialogue that shifts from quick-witted to hesitant with the odd faux pas thrown in, well-timed pauses, an irreverent take on situations, and an element of detective work.It all makes for a rewarding, action-packed 45 minutes.

Mari Crawford is familiar with labels. She has seen thousands of them on the pill bottles she has worked her way through since being diagnosed with bipolar II disorder at the age of 19. Hundreds of them form an apron around the stage. These labels are inoffensive, unlike some pinned on those who live with the condition they treat. Her show’s label, Bipolar Badass, struck me as interesting rather than inviting, but having it on offer in Dundee, where the spirit of fringe theatre abounds, it was an opportunity to step out of my comfort zone.My fears of having to endure an introspective, navel-gazing lament, with a woe-is-me narrative designed to elicit sympathy, were quickly allayed. This is an upbeat, positive challenge to the monster that tries to dominate her life. Imaginatively and amusingly, she likens her chronic illness to a fire-breathing dragon in her brain that takes on a persona, genetically inherited from her late grandmother, who endured unethical medical treatment. It is a legacy she did not ask for and does not want, but then neither did her gran.Her show is a wide-ranging discourse on how her condition has been viewed, and on the stigma and ignorance that still surround it. She shows how both entertainment and social media have long given ill-informed portrayals of people with the condition, and highlights the manifestations it can take. There are times of losing touch with reality, of aural and visual hallucinations, delusional situations, suicidal thoughts and episodes of self-harm.She performs and speaks with expertise, having studied acting at the British American Drama Academy and worked as a peer counsellor with the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI). Later this year she will study at Ecole Philippe Gaulier, which might give even more energy and physicality to a show that is already fast-paced and full of action – necessary skills in dealing with a dragon.Her coping mechanism has been to embrace the mythical beast and work with it; fighting against it only makes it angrier, she learned. Hence humour abounds, and she exudes a sense of triumphant power that vanquishes fear.This is a well-constructed show that successfully combines entertainment with insight to create an uplifting and inspirational tale of triumph over adversity.

The newly written musical I Am Autistic follows the story of three autistic teens going through life in high school. It covers the topics of relationships, bullying and discovering yourself.Being autistic myself, I feel that the show offers an excellent portrayal of ASD, raising awareness very effectively and helping people to understand how to live alongside people who have autism, how to accommodate them, and how to adapt so that all can live happily together.The songs are very upbeat and have a pop feel about them. The three main characters are superbly put together. Their story made me cry midway through the show because I can relate so much to the performance, which just shows how well written this piece is and what an amazing performance has been created about autism.However, I also feel that the show mainly focuses on the negatives of autism – although it does have a very happy resolution (which was the highlight of the show for me). I feel like it could cover some different types of Autism Spectrum Disorder and display other aspects of it in the show as well.I like the decision to cast autistic actors in the leading roles because this gives autistic actors a chance to be themselves without having to worry about other people’s opinions of them. The production could also be improved by showing some aspects of autism in different life stages as well.In general, however, this play means that autistic people who watch the show will be able to see themselves in it, and I love that about it. I think it helps people without autism to live more comfortably around autistic people, so the show was a notable success for everybody.The actors wear simple, everyday costumes to create a normal high school day. The set is very simple, using four boxes of a cubic shape which are rearranged effectively to create different environments. The simplicity of this is strangely beautiful. The depictions of fidgeting, strumming and bullying are very accurate, and this really captures the real-life experience of autistic people.Although the main storyline is rather sad (as it depicts autistic people being bullied), the resolution really gives me personally a new hope for the future of people who are autistic, showing that eventually we can be accepted and that we can, and will, be able to live better in the future.(Editor’s note: This review was written by Clark Dearson, aged 12, who performed in Much Ado About Pirates at the Fringe by Westcliff High School for Boys.)

Los Angeles-based Eagle Rock Theatre Company has brought a distinctively different piece of theatre, billed as musical comedy, to this year’s Fringe in Daughter Daddy at Paradise in the Vault.Daddy Matt Braaten directs and is joined on stage by his 11-year-old daughter and co-writer, Lily Braaten. Together they explore the musical eras of her life so far. He sings and plays guitar; she sings and generally entertains, inviting people to join in various refrains and dances.Lily exudes confidence and speaks eloquently, having starred in over 25 Disney Princess Club episodes. She also features on the official Disney Kids YouTube channel. Matt happily strums away and we sing a jingle each time he needs to check his guitar is in tune.Daughter Daddy is a light-hearted, family-friendly musical entertainment featuring original songs as well as some of Lily’s favourites from Frozen, Matilda and Wicked. Pop tunes from Taylor Swift, Dua Lipa, Coldplay, The Proclaimers and others are included, along with a devised 007 scene featuring the famous James Bond.It’s a very relaxed, informal and delightful diversion for adults with young children aged eight and over.

Theatre allows us to enter the hearts and minds of others, to explore cultures, to confront issues, to see things from a different perspective, to be challenged, to view history not only as the past but also as the present and the future, because it never goes away, it cannot be erased and will always be with us. Sometimes these elements come together in profound writing, imaginative staging and precise direction as they do in Kaddish (How to be a Sanctuary) at theSpace Triplex.Kaddish is a 13th-century Aramaic prayer. It means sanctification, a word related to the Hebrew Kadosh, meaning holy. The best known is the Mourner’s Kaddish, which never mentions death but rather proclaims the greatness of God and speaks of peace being established. When chanted in groups, it’s a reminder that no one mourns alone.There would have been Kaddish for Grandpa Saul, to whom his grandson, Sam Sherman, is given access via a mystical creature from Jewish folklore. A structural pattern permeates the monodrama as Sherman alternates between two desks. At one he is Grandpa, typing about and reflecting upon current events. At the other he is himself, with books piled up for research along with Grandpa’s writings. Thus the past becomes the present. A large wooden tree against the back wall dominates the set, a symbol that in Judaism can represent the connection between the physical and spiritual realms, but can today also be a reminder of how forests can be used for political ends.The writing is tight, with multiple short scenes, some at the desks and others using movement around the floor space, furnishing energy and pace. Disparate topics are often juxtaposed, providing thoughtful connectivity. Grandpa is revealed as an impassioned man of conviction and principle who will face up to anyone for a worthy cause. He fights Nazis in battlefields across Europe in WWII and confronts domestic fascists and mobsters in his hometown of Newark, New Jersey. Meanwhile, Sam gets swept up in the Washington, DC uprisings of 2020 and then, appalled at the actions of Israel's Zionist government, he draws us into the heart of current events, believing it is time to follow in Saul's footsteps and take a stand. But how can he tell his parents he intends to leave home for solidarity work in the occupied West Bank?Sherman is deeply conscious of the respect and sensitivity required to bring the journal of the man who inspired the shape of the play to life on stage; a relative who died years before he was born, yet still asks us to listen to the moral inheritance of our ancestors. They echo one another across decades in a dramatic arc that serves as a reflection on Jewish-American life, political fights and contemporary struggles. If that sounds heavy, there are times when it is, and rightly so. Burdens are rarely light. Yet there is plenty of humour and, as a playwright, Sherman knows exactly when to bail out of the depths of despondency and lighten the tone, and as an actor he knows how to time and deliver both.Sherman and Lila Weitzner collaborated on this first joint project and together, regarding it as culmination of years of friendship and shared commitment towards creating politically engaged theatre. The fruits of their labours are a dramatic triumph.

Imagine if the pages of your favourite cowboy cartoon comic were to come to life and become the script for an action-packed, high-energy drama in your bedroom. There’s one sure way to make it happen: perform it yourselves and call it Cody and Beau: A Wild West Story, then put it on at theSpace@Niddry Street.In two captivating performances, the well-costumed dynamic duo of Dylan Kaueper (Cody) and Will Grice (Beau) blur the lines between fantasy and reality, leading us to forget that this is just a make-believe world of imagination and invention. Transported to 1889, we become immersed in a dramatic tale of cowboys and Indians packed with daring escapes, dastardly encounters, threatening gunfights and a plentiful supply of tacos. The boys set out on a bold journey, forsaking their box of miniature toy cowboys for the lonesome trail across the arid desert from Texas to New Mexico in the hope that their hero, Billy the Kid, is not really dead and that they might actually meet him. In a movingly staged and evocatively lit dream sequence, Cody even has a vision of the man as Beau doubles up in statuesque form.Beneath the gripping action and intense physicality, this heart-pounding adventure presents an intimate portrayal of boyhood friendship and an emotional exploration of masculinity that highlights the fine line between our true selves and who we pretend to be. We start with two pals who enjoy innocently playing together but then experience the intensities of bonding and survival as their characters deal with challenges on the journey and come to rely on each other for survival. They have to face the harsh realities of life and realise that growing up is a demanding process, full of big questions about existence and the nature of relationships. But among all the soul-searching, their tale is littered with comic moments and playfulness, though they don’t shy away from a bravely dark ending.Kaueper and Grice say they have “grown up performing and dreaming up worlds together since childhood”, at school where they began their creative partnership, and now at Edinburgh University, where they have formed their own company, Dylan and Will Theatre, with a “mission to make inventive, actor-led theatre that surprises, provokes and, most importantly, entertains.” This debut show fulfils all of those aspirations, is hugely impressive and great fun. These are two to look out for, with the potential to be enormously successful.

What if Portia never made it to Venice? How would the trial have proceeded? What might the outcome have been? Writer-director Martin Foreman offers one possibility in A Pound of Flesh at theSpace on the Mile.Foreman seizes the “what if” opportunity and rises to the occasion in his reimagining of The Merchant of Venice. Shakespeare has Portia save the day for Antonio, but what if a tragedy prevents her from completing the journey from Belmont and the trial goes ahead without her? Will it mean that Antonio is doomed, and will Shylock be able to carry out the demand for “a pound of flesh”? “The oft-told tale begins with money ventured ’gainst a bond of flesh. But hold! See now a new path taken, tragedy appears and with sad death marks consequence of greed.”This revised version is convincingly written in a combination of Shakespeare’s words and additional material that echoes the Bard’s rhythm and imagery, seamlessly fitting into the original. In addition to the display of imagination and skill in the writing, the production is blessed with fine actors who successfully carry through the new plot.Antonio (Gabriel Bird) is troubled by his deep longing for Bassanio (Ollie Hiemann). Bird makes this obvious throughout, but always with subtlety and a manifestly aching heart, whilst also battling with his legal troubles. His yearning for Bassanio is matched by Portia’s (Millie Deere) and is easily understood as soon as Hiemann enters. Who would not fall for him? The soft tones and sultry disposition make Bassanio adorable to all.Deere encapsulates Portia’s intelligence, privileged upbringing, delicate scheming and abundant love for Bassanio, while Michael Robert-Brown as the Doge and other characters creates an impactful presence in all roles, adjudicating with precision and equanimity. In a stunning piece of casting, Shylock becomes a female role played by Danielle Farrow, whose dignified and stern demeanour makes for a towering presence as she states her case with legal precision, angry retribution and just conviction.The antisemitic elements of the play are not shied away from, which heightens the impact of Shylock’s impassioned “I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? ...” and is forcefully proclaimed. Delivery is of the highest standard throughout, with all lines carefully and clearly enunciated.This production is a joy for all lovers of the Bard who care for what might have been.

Release your grief and conquer cancer through pulsating discos and wild workouts in an endless round of partying. That’s the message of Sarah Asante Gregory and performer/co-writer Bex Wall in Life Would Be Pretty Dull Without Sex, Raves and MDMA at theSpace at Surgeons Hall.If that sounds wild and outrageous, it’s because it is. As Wall says: “This story comes from somewhere real. It’s about the weird, unspoken places grief takes us – and how music, madness and human connection can carry us through.” Gregory adds: “We’ve created something raw and ridiculous, but also deeply human. It’s not about tidy answers – it’s about being seen in the mess.”Wall’s slick, psychedelic, leotard-clothed body gyrates to the sounds of the 90s, seemingly possessed of more energy than she knows what to do with. She tries to expend it all in this 50-minute romp, but by the end there is a sense she could do it all again. Her powerhouse performance is unrelenting as we tour raves around Europe, but nowhere can she escape the two fiends that fill her mind.A frenetic lifestyle is precisely what her deceased brother would have wanted her to embrace. It was exactly how he lived and died – in a drug-fuelled, alcohol-driven, sex-ridden excess of partying and clubbing. Her own end might come differently, however, given her breast cancer diagnosis. For her, life is a battle on two fronts, as she lives with a duo of demons who are as likely to attack her head on the dancefloor as they are in the tranquillity of her home or on a lonely walk.The joy of this highly personal show is its life-affirming message and refusal to become self-centred or self-indulgent. There is no navel-gazing morbidity, but rather a challenge to defy the odds. Her dance may be physically on the floor, but mentally it hip-hops between letting go and holding on, as her head grapples with the complexities of grief, the guilt of survival and the joy that can come from embracing both.The show is full of contradictions: of finding alternative answers to a situation; of looking tragedy and misfortune in the face and standing up to them; of defying the obvious. This is a raw and brutally honest dive into life as it is, legal or not. Wall wears her heart on her sleeve, gives it everything and dares you to join her in the dance of life and death.

Jamie is a good lad: devoted to family and football, a passion he shares with his father. Even his mother has a Saltire flag on a stick she waves throughout every Scotland game.Together, they had planned to attend the opening game of the 2024 European Championship between Scotland and Germany in Munich, but they suffer a setback and the trip is called off. Jamie is devastated, but doesn’t give up on the idea. What follows, in Nick it for Munich at Greenside@George Street, is Jamie’s quest to see the game while handling family and friends in a series of incidents – some of which help him on his way, others that block his path, divert him or draw on every ounce of ingenuity he possesses.The play is written and performed by Aric Hanscomb-Ryrie, a talented emerging artist from Edinburgh, and was developed with the aid of a Keep It Fringe bursary. He plays several roles in the 60-minute solo show as various characters converse with Nick, the sharply drawn central figure. Energy, physicality and humour abound as his story unfolds in a series of twists and turns that make for an engaging, well-paced narrative, delivered with clarity, strong projection and a ringing local accent.Director Aaron Clason draws out all the laddish elements while making Nick an endearing character, and – along with assistant director and movement coordinator Zoë Maunder – has used every inch of the tight space to create an animated production, complete with focused sound and music.Nick it for Munich is an unpretentious, well-told story, performed with passion and pride.

Surprises are not uncommon in shows, but the way Almost Everything suddenly takes off past the halfway mark is stunning.It’s also interesting that a theatre company of young people has opted for a naturalistic, domestic drama complete with matching set, neatly and authentically designed by Tiffany Yu. The sofa, the occasional table with chairs and a chessboard, and another with drinks immediately place us in a comfortable apartment. It belongs to Charlie. He’s an architect, currently looking for a new flatmate, and is conducting interviews. Some he’s dismissed and others have pulled out, which leaves Becca, who is perhaps something of a gamble, but by now he has little choice, and she is determined to move in.Perhaps inevitably, the extent to which living under the same roof can remain a professional landlord–tenant relationship comes into question. Can cohabiting remain purely platonic, or is romance in the air? Will Becca’s excessive drinking and active social life prove too much for Charlie? Scenes move on apace, with incidents building up and the relationship becoming more complex but still leaving uncertainty as to where all this might be leading.Then Becca’s older sister, Emily, arrives on the scene, and the dynamics change – not just in the household. After she is established as a character, events pile up, and an eruption occurs with a devastating wedding speech. Thereafter, the tension mounts, relationships rise and fall, and a couple of twists elevate the drama to a powerfully new level. “Wow! Where did that come from?”The play is written by Lauren Barrie (Becca) and Ben McGuinness (Charlie), who, together with Imogen Eden-Brown, give solid, impassioned performances under the neat direction of Graham Newell. They all benefit from the quality of the realistic conversational writing, clear characterisation, and a well-developed plot.

There were probably occasions when the ubiquitous socialite Truman Capote might have wished he’d been left off the invitation list – even of his own party. Garden Party – Truman Capote's Black and White Celebration at theSpace @ Symposium Hall is probably a case in point.We’re invited to don a black lace eye-mask to feel fully part of this immersive theatrical experience by Paris-based Kulturscio’k Live Art Collective that uses all available space. Two hosts, Sean O’Callaghan and Paul Spera, mingle with the guests and engage in chit-chat about the rich and famous, bandying around names such as Audrey Hepburn, Greta Garbo, the Bloomingdales, Peter Lawford and Patricia Kennedy, David Niven, Tony Curtis, Natalie Wood, Hope Lange and many more. Meanwhile, director Alessia Siniscalchi hovers around in the manner of an operatic diva, fanning herself. Cue song and dance routine as the gentlemen take to the stage as socialites for an interlude of musical entertainment with live backing from Didier Leglise, who has been seated behind his keyboard with guitar playing incidentally – all part of what they call the ballad of hypocrisy.More mingling follows and it terminates nearly 20 minutes before the end of its programmed 50-minute running time. As with many parties, you sometimes wonder why you went.

We all have things passed down to us. Some are inherited genetically, and others are items bequeathed. A piano often falls into the category of a burdensome gift, one that can carry a great deal of emotional baggage and necessitates finding a home for it when you’d much rather smash it up. But, oh, the guilt!Piano Smashers, at theSpace at Surgeons Hall, is a solo play featuring Rob Thompson, co-written with Rupert Page, that has moments both amusing and moving. A mother hands down her piano to her children in her will, but they really want neither the instrument nor the memories it contains. Reluctantly, they accept their fate and take what they’re given. Inspired by the plays of Tim Crouch and the theories of Peter Brook and Bertolt Brecht, this is intended as a metaphor responding to what one generation passes on to another in terms of the environment, global economics and political culture.The piece opens with Thompson delivering a couple of poor gags as a warm-up in a flamboyant, multi-coloured striped jacket. With that cast off, he begins in a softly relaxed manner to describe the set, which is an imaginary country home with three pictures in the hallway. The equally imaginary piano has to be brought in from outside, requiring the help of three members of the audience to mime its entrance.Audience participation is a key element of the show, as Thompson takes time to issue scripts to volunteers to read sections of dialogue discussing various issues. Interspersed through narrative passages, we hear the sound of pianos being smashed, far in excess of the one that was inherited. The passages relate around the central theme but never quite achieve a sense of coherence.Then, when we think it might all be over, there is a rather charming epilogue in which we are invited to reflect, in a period of silence, on an object, characteristic or quality we have inherited. Those who wish may then share their feelings with the rest of us.It’s just one more section in a rather disjointed work that nevertheless has a certain charm.

Artifacts dangle from a spinning wheel that sits atop a pole and dominates the stage in Exhausted Paint: The Death of Van Gogh, by experimental US playwright Justin Maxwell at theSpace@Surgeons’ Hall and is the key to the structure of the solo show, directed by Penny Cole.The opening and closing sections of the script are fixed. Between these, segments correspond to each hanging object, but they are not necessarily the same each day. The order of the passages is determined by Drew Stroud’s spin of the wheel. He then unhooks the prop and tells the related story.In his own words, what follows is a “tilt-a-whirl, unrelenting dash through the life of Vincent.” The debate surrounding the artist’s mental condition comes through not just in the show’s content but also in Stroud’s performance. At times he is sane, rational and able to explain his feelings about life, art and the people he meets. In contrast, he can seem to be in a very different world. Van Gogh experienced at least eight major episodes characterised by anxiety, memory loss, partial paralysis and hallucinations. He was frequently hospitalised and famously cut off part of his left ear after a major disagreement with fellow artist Paul Gauguin – all part of several tumultuous relationships he had with artists in the avant-garde community he helped create. The show imparts a good measure of historical material.Stroud animatedly romps through these events, also including Van Gogh’s problematic dealings with women, ranging from glamorous socialites to whores in brothels and sexually transmitted diseases. As Van Gogh wrote in an 1887 letter to his sister, “For my part, I still continually have the most impossible and highly unsuitable love affairs from which, as a rule, I emerge only with shame and disgrace.” Fortunately, he had the devotion of his brother to sustain him.There is tremendous pace and abundant energy in this show – perhaps too much at times. Moments of quieter, calmer introspection would provide more variety in delivery for a performance that currently exists at a continuously frenetic level.

According to performer Rachel McKay Steele, “Shiva for Anne Frank started as an ill-conceived, one-off bit in a comedy show in 2018." It has since evolved "into an exploration of girlhood, growing up Jewish in the American South and collective grief.”Those elements and many more are present in the show that, sometimes rather uncomfortably, wraps her own story around that of Anne Frank. On stage a cloth covers a hand mirror on the occasional table, reminding us of the rules of shiva, which, although centred around a deceased person, is actually designed to help people with the grieving process.Screen projections assist the passage of the show and the telling of Anne’s story, with visuals that include anticipated images of Anne Frank, her family and the Holocaust, but also others that illustrate her wide-ranging tangential material. Steele is at pains to point out the side of Anne that goes beyond the innocent, speculative girl in the attic keeping a diary of everyday events, highlighting passages that provide insight into her sexuality and feelings.It is the abundant other material that often feels incongruous, and in the midst of it we might well wonder how we got here. Steele’s personal story of girlhood, Bat Mitzvah, a nose job, an obsession with Paul Rudd and coming to terms with Jewish identity and bisexuality is a launch pad for diversions, of which there are many. In no particular order, we somehow manage to cover ICE raids, Springsteen, menstruation, female anatomy (illustrated), October 7th, interfaith marriage, anal sex (with more anatomical illustrations), drug-taking, chlamydia and bulimia, among many others. These cannot all be remnants of the ‘ill-conceived’ 2018 show.Although a comedian, her attempts in that area fall rather flat. There is some humour and a display of her limited tap-dancing abilities. By the end, with the Israel/Gaza situation looming large, Steele has become so emotionally involved in the material that she is holding back tears. It is certainly shiva with a difference.

Krista Scott gives a gushing performance as the glamorous and legendary Victorian actress and socialite Lillie Langtry in Wilde Women at Greenside @ George Street.Her solo show celebrates Oscar Wilde’s most powerful women. She dramatically enters through the theatre door wearing a stunning deep purple bustle dress. It’s 1900 and we’re in her dressing room at the Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh, where she is playing the lead in Sydney Grundy’s The Degenerates. The furniture and trinkets are redolent of the period, transporting us to a bygone age.She is awaiting the arrival of a crucial telegram from her dearest friend Oscar Wilde, who has resided in Paris since his release from Reading Gaol, having served his prison sentence for gross indecency. She has in mind a play that presents all his most illustrious female characters – Cecily, Salomé, Mrs Cheveley, Lady Windermere and, of course, Lady Bracknell – but she cannot proceed without his approval and cooperation. She sees it as an opportunity to make amends for, like the rest of society, she had distanced herself from him at the time of his arrest. She believes it will restore his reputation and, equally importantly, revive her own fading stardom.The plays are stacked on an occasional table and for the rest of the show she works her way through them, explaining the importance of the female characters, taking on their roles and performing extracts from their most important monologues. We are also given a good measure of historical context, with references to the famous theatrical names of the day, and we learn of Wilde’s importance in establishing strong, independent women as protagonists, and his influence.The play is rich in content and perhaps overflowing. Scott rattles through the performance repertoire at considerable speed, giving classic interpretations, although there are times when it has the tones of a lecture. Overall, however, it’s a wonderful opportunity to hear the great speeches and revel in the world of Wilde.

There's no shortage of shows that tackle the plight of soldiers sent to the front to fight for their country, and Michael Hughes found his niche in The Last Bantam at Greenside @ George Street.Patrick Michael Wolfe, a teacher from Dublin, made many attempts to join the army at recruiting offices in Ireland and England, but was always rejected because he was below the regulation height. His motive for enlisting was to secure Irish Home Rule, a promise that was made to Irish recruits who joined up. He heard that a unique regiment had been formed by Alfred Bigland, the MP for Birkenhead, Cheshire. Bigland believed that shorter healthy men, many of whom worked in mines, could make a valuable contribution to the war effort. He wrote to the Secretary of State for War, Lord Kitchener, who agreed to the idea but refused to fund it. Undeterred, he formed Bigland's Birkenhead Bantams, who took the aggressive fowl as their emblem and later became 15th Battalion, 1st Birkenhead, The Cheshire Regiment. The 30,000 men were all between 4’10’’ and 5’3’’ (147–160 cm).Clad in an authentic replica uniform and bustling with personal equipment, Hughes tells the remarkable story of these men and highlights the contribution of Irish recruits to the war effort and the attitudes they encountered among the ranks. It is a story of patriotism, prejudice, courage and betrayal, the action ranging from the city of Dublin to the horrors of the Western Front, with the Easter Rising carefully noted.Handling a topic that might easily become heavy, Hughes ensures there are light moments, with humorous tales and even a tune or two within the narrative of war, all delivered in the lyrical tones of his homeland.The show is for anyone who enjoys a well-told story, and even more so for those with an interest in WWI history who want to understand it from a personal perspective.

In a masterclass delivery of Beckett’s most autobiographical work, critically acclaimed former Royal National Theatre actor and award-winning Fringe veteran Kevin Short takes to the stage at Greenside @ George Street to give a mesmerising performance of Krapp’s Last Tape.If you’ve seen the play before, you know what to expect and the details to look out for. First, the man himself. As we enter the auditorium, Short does not disappoint with his presence, and the set is perfect in its stark simplicity. There he is, seated behind a black desk with white drawers that match his eccentric shoes. The tape recorder is in place, and the now-tattered files and boxes are scattered around. Short sits in silence with a wild mass of grey and white hair – fuller than Einstein’s – cascading from his head. The black and white palette extends to his shirt, waistcoat and trousers.The silence is all-consuming. He sits and stares into the void. And sits and stares. And sits and stares. And sits and stares – until the first fumbling for keys. He tentatively rises, shuffles around the table and, after some bungling, unlocks the drawer. He has a good rummage around and finally produces the first banana, and the absurd humour we've been waiting for begins to flow.What follows reveals the loneliness and isolation of an old man who has only his memories to fall back on, but who can at least listen to the recordings of events he made each year on his birthday. This birthday, he is reliving the past with a tape in box five. It’s spool number three and, after more rummaging, it is carefully fitted onto the tape recorder.It’s mundane stuff but gives an insight into a life that has known intimate relationships and loves that were found and lost. Short conveys the melancholy mood, the reflective meanderings of the mind as the spools turn, and the fun that can be had with stretching out the vowels when pronouncing “spool”. “Spoooool,” he says several times, and interrupts the tape with the occasional chuckle or rant. And so it goes on, becoming more captivating by the minute, until we are transfixed by the man.His measured delivery, attention to pauses, the careful timing and leisurely pace are textbook Beckett, and Short’s impeccable performance will leave all admirers of the great author’s work richly rewarded.

It’s always a pleasure to see what bonkers piece of theatre Offie-nominated Square Pegs – Macready Theatre Young Actors’ Company – will come up with next. They’re at C Arts Aquila again, this time with 8-bit Dream, directed by Tim Coker and written by Ben Grant, a co-artistic director at Electrick Village Theatre Company, who also directs at the Identity School of Acting.This year’s show takes a sideways look at modern culture in an absurd and quirky comedy packed with physicality, movement sequences and a good measure of sound and music. It takes us back to an analogue age when telephones had wires and handsets, and television had only a few channels. In a modern world where so much is fake, their fast-paced, fun-filled storytelling plies us with time-travelling tales of nostalgia and a search for meaning. The cast look spectacular in their uniforms of brilliant white dungarees and vivid plain T-shirts in three colours – orange, blue and yellow – divided between the troupe.This year’s company comprises: Amelia Barton; Toby Davies; Daisy Donne; Celia Duffy; Elsa Melia; Maggie Poszewiecka; Lily-Rose Pitcher; Albie Tuckwell; and Billy Wright-Evans, with movement by Ellen Finlay. The ensemble includes artists from Poland, the Netherlands, Ireland and the UK. Regulars from previous years have now moved on, but this new group continues the tradition of providing sparkling entertainment, although this year’s offering is less crazy than usual.It still makes for a fun-filled 45 minutes, and it’s always great to see such an enthusiastic and well-rehearsed group of young people making energetic theatre – and clearly enjoying every minute of it.

Chicago-based Orchard Theatre Company makes its Fringe debut with an intense exploration of ethnic and religious identity in The Lost Priest at theSpace Surgeons' Hall. The show is jointly directed by Julia Grace Kelley and Gabe Seplow, who also serves as the writer and performer of this solo journey.Gabe approaches the table and lights the Shabbat candle. "Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik ner shel Shabbat." They speak the language, were brought up in the tradition, though somehow managed to talk their way out of their bar mitzvah. The questioning emerged even when they were a child, and as the years passed, it became more critical, more central to their existence, and more profound. They became increasingly aware of the complex situations in which Jews have existed throughout history—beneficiaries of the sympathy that followed the Holocaust, who now have leaders in a land where their ancestors once lived, leading a genocidal Zionist state.Seplow gives a tormented, anguished performance through fragmented reflections, grappling with familial history, the weight of antisemitism, the search for meaning in religious rituals that once felt familiar, and a conflicted relationship with their heritage. Yet there is humour within all that soul-searching. As such, the play becomes an agonised meditation on the complexities of identity and the longing for connection.Though not officially a work in progress, it is, like so many Fringe shows, a piece with considerable potential for further development, yet one that is already a rewarding drama.

The newly written Thin Walls: Men(tal) Health comes from the theatre class of Wabash College Professor Heidi Winters Vogel, in Crawfordsville, Indiana. The project began in January, and all aspects of its devising and production have consumed her students through to its opening at Greenside @ George Street.The class – Sean Bledsoe, Eamon Colglazier, Alejandro Cruz, Brody Frey, Tyler Horton, Dane Market, Preston Parker, Alex Schmidt, Gabrien Smith and Carson Wirtz – all contributed to the writing, and each has a part in the end product, including stage manager Xavier Cienfuegos. They chose the title to emphasise the work’s central theme: that men are often separated from each other by only a thin veneer of masculinity, which they use to hide the choices they make in their lives.Speaking about the work, Professor Vogel says the themes emerged from the students’ own life experiences. “They are experimenting with what a new masculinity might look like,” she said. “Through devised performances, this show unearths the pressures, contradictions, and vulnerabilities that shape the male experience … asking men if they are willing to be vulnerable and honest, and enter relationships in a less combative way.” And vulnerability is exactly what the students have exposed themselves to – not only in opening up, but in pushing themselves to create and perform, as only a few had experience on stage before this project.The exploration of cultural masculinity is set in the context of the relationship between three brothers immediately after their stereotypically masculine father has died, interwoven with aspects of college life that range over issues of depression, loneliness, peer pressure and violence.Thin Walls: Men(tal) Health is a classic piece of student ensemble theatre, featuring a wide range of performance abilities.

When it comes to Copla, Alejandro Postigo is not only a pre-eminent exponent and performer of the art, but also a world authority. It was the subject of his PhD thesis at the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, and he is currently Senior Lecturer in Musical Theatre at the London College of Music. His knowledge and talent combine in his latest show, Copla: A Spanish Cabaret, a celebration of Spain’s vibrant cultural and political history, brought to life with a queer twist. The show makes its Fringe debut at Assembly George Square.So, what is Copla? In an interview with Broadway Baby, Postigo explained that it “is a popular song tradition that emerged in Spain in the early 20th century. It’s often compared to torch songs or chanson because it blends folk roots with theatrical flair. At heart, Copla is storytelling set to music. Each song is a miniature drama about love, shame, defiance or heartbreak.” His show is an illustrated and practical guide to the genre, in which he performs songs, shows video footage and photographs, and relates a fascinating history that reaches out from his homeland to other parts of Europe and the USA.We are invited to join him in a song from The Sound of Music, sung in both English and Spanish — the musical he fell in love with as a child, which stirred his early love of singing. We hear the same song performed by numerous artists over many decades as an example of how Copla spread, and also how it was both repressed and subverted under Franco to boost his ideology. It was even exported to be sung in German under Hitler. But after the Civil War, it was reclaimed by the people, especially the marginalised, who featured in many songs concerning relationships outside heterosexual marriage, love gone wrong, laments for a lost homeland, or bawdy celebrations of forbidden passion. The warmth of this heartfelt music has the power to bring both tears and laughter, or simply the chance to sing along with your favourite diva. In the show, we also enjoy live violin accompaniment.Copla: A Spanish Cabaret is not only an entertaining show but also a joyous celebration of an often overlooked Spanish folk tradition, and a well-crafted educational tour, vividly told with passion, colourful costumes and, of course, song.

Award-winning theatre-maker Victoria Melody returns to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe with her latest show, Trouble, Struggle, Bubble and Squeak, collaborating for the first time with acclaimed political comedian and director Mark Thomas.Melody has a way of dealing with the things life throws at her – usually by taking on a completely diversionary hobby or job. Dealing with her divorce led her to the English Civil War Society, where she was assigned to the politically wrong side for her liking in historical re-enactments – but found a revolutionary outlet in the Diggers, who, faced with poverty and starvation, occupied common land to farm it.It soon dawned on her that the dissatisfaction felt by these 17th-century radicals towards those in power – who had failed their communities – is still rife in today’s society. With that historical background covered, she goes on to tell the tale of how she embraced a deprived area of her own city and ultimately galvanised people to bring about change that would benefit the entire community.Her show is filled with stories of eccentric but real people who became emboldened to challenge the status quo, confront the powers that be, and take on the local council to improve their lives. Couch potatoes soon became activists, helping hands and campaigning citizens who, with every success, became more committed to furthering their cause. With the aid of a colourful, child-like drawing of the area and cardboard cut-outs of people, she playfully rattles off the interactions, confrontations and remarkable contributions that transformed a region, changed lives and enabled a community to reshape its home – making it a place of which they could be proud.Entertainingly told with great clarity and precise delivery, Melody’s show is an inspiring tale that brings history to life in modern times – and demonstrates how people can be empowered to change their own lives and communities for the better.

This year marks the 20th anniversary of the publication of the Ferns Report, an official Irish government inquiry into allegations of clerical sexual abuse in the Roman Catholic Diocese of Ferns in County Wexford. Our Brothers in Cloth, by Ronan Colfer at Assembly Rooms, George Square, reflects on the impact the actions of some priests had on individuals, families and communities in an emotionally challenging drama, sensitively directed by Ryan McVeigh.The play is rooted in harsh reality, rigorous research and much soul-searching. Colfer was deeply affected by clerical child sexual abuse that resulted in the tragic suicide of a close family member and left others traumatised. Rather than tell the story of the victim, however, the play addresses the intergenerational impact of abuse on a family and community in sleepy rural Ireland. Hence, we are given a wide perspective that embraces the personal torment of coming to terms with Chris’s suicide, the revelations about the former parish priest, the cover-ups, and most dramatically, the silence and level of denial within the community and the divisions caused within families.Jake Douglas gives a powerfully impassioned performance as Alan, who carries the burden of knowing what happened to his brother Chris after he receives testimony from an eyewitness friend, Mark Doyle. Michael Lavin gravely delivers the information and shows how difficult it is to open up such a can of worms. Then, armed with the story, Alan’s work really begins. He has to convince the indoctrinated and devout to believe him – parishioners whose families have for centuries looked up to the Church and its priests, and against whom they will have nothing said – most particularly his mother, Martina. Rosalind Stockwell fills her with fervour and blind allegiance in support of the accused priest and the Church, while bitterly turning on her son.Meanwhile, Kevin Glyn hovers around in an understated performance as the disgraced cleric's successor, Fr O’Donovan, reminding us of the ever-present involvement of the clergy in people’s lives. A subplot involving the relationship between Alan and his girlfriend, Siobhan, allows Oli Fyne to demonstrate the anguish caused by having to decide whose side she is going to take, while Gráinne Kelly adds her two penn’orth as a parishioner and friend of the family.Colfer says: “This play was born from the stories passed between generations – what was said and what was kept silent. It’s about the cost of complicity and the fight to reclaim truth in the face of institutional silence.”He has transformed that material into a remarkable social commentary and a gripping piece of theatre.

Alfie Jones debuts as writer and performer in This Blighted Star, an intriguing monodrama at Underbelly, George Square. Developed through Omnibus Theatre’s Omni-Wright Playwriting programme, the story follows a CCTV operator who becomes consumed by the disappearance of his childhood friend, Ivan, in their small Midlands hometown during a sweltering summer.The fragmented footage is played to us on a large screen, several times, with rewinds. The images enable detailed examination of people’s movements and even shadows. But how are they to be interpreted? Who are the couple in the first few frames? Why does he push the girl away? Who is he talking to on his phone and what is he saying? Is the black car in the foreground in any way significant? These and other questions need answers, and the evidence needs to be interpreted.The operator is legitimately employed by the council to survey camera footage, although his obsessive replaying of these sections is probably outside his remit. But he is hooked on it, and we become drawn into his fixation, minutely examining each frame, looking for clues or anything he might have missed.As the narrative progresses, we are drip-fed insights into his and Ivan’s youthful relationship, his infatuation with him and subsequent rejection by him, and his jealousy towards those Ivan befriended. We learn more from conversations he has with Brian, a 66-year-old man he relates to, and we watch TikTok posts he makes under a disguise, challenging the police investigation. As the truth gradually comes to light, a new star burns in the sky, brighter than the rest. A glimmer of hope? Or more uncertainty?Director Alice Harding says, “When I first read Alfie’s play I was taken aback by how deeply original the piece is.” She is absolutely right. To frame a play around CCTV footage, with an added immersive soundscape, and then combine it with a moving personal story reflects a highly creative and imaginative mind, and has resulted in an end product that is refreshingly different. The icing on the cake is Jones’s charismatic and endearing performance. The clarity of his delivery is a joy to the ear, and his ability to carry us on a gripping journey of crime detection, obsession and love is remarkable.

Following a decade of sell-out tours and international acclaim, the multi-award-winning Brazilian adaptation of Michel Marc Bouchard's Tom at the Farm is now making its UK premiere at the EICC in a spectacular surtitled production featuring Armando Babaioff, Denise Del Vecchio, Iano Salomão and Camila Nhary. Under the striking direction of Rodrigo Portella, the quartet of impassioned actors somehow manage to fill the vast stage for two hours.The multi-faceted plot revolves around Tom, a sophisticated advertising executive who travels to a remote farm to attend the funeral of his lover, who was killed in an unspecified accident. However, he is shocked to discover that his partner had hidden his sexuality from his mother – she has never even heard of Tom. In contrast, her other son, a brutal beast of a man, knows everything and will do anything to keep the truth from emerging. He sets the mood of unrelenting toxic masculinity, homophobia, psychological torment and physical violence, heightened by vivid lighting and a dramatic soundscape.Bouchard has said that this is “one of the most beautiful and powerful productions” of his work. The stage is covered in plastic sheeting and slick with mud, in which the men roll during the play’s intense fight scenes – Tom is even drenched with buckets of water as part of the abuse he suffers. Movement across the open space reinforces the sense that this is not merely a conflict between two men, but a malicious predator in relentless pursuit of weakened prey.Meanwhile, the mother mourns her lost son and, despite Tom’s arrival, suppresses any suspicions she might have about his sexuality, consoling herself with the belief that her son had a girlfriend. While she goes along with this at first, she increasingly challenges the brother’s deception and his grip on the household. Further power dynamics unfold as the characters clash, each played with conviction by an outstandingly accomplished cast.The production is supported by Brazil’s Ministry of Culture, not only as a theatrical triumph but as a powerful political statement. It stands in defiance of the country’s previous right-wing government, whose time in office saw a surge in violence towards the LGBTQ+ community.

If you’ve still not been to Albania, then writer/performer Alex Reynolds brings it alive in a vibrant rollercoaster journey through this thrilling country of charming people and stunning landscapes, combined with the discovery of lost family history, in Land of Eagles at Pleasance Courtyard.This sweeping, action-packed story is inspired by true events. Reynolds and her Grandpa are thick as thieves at six and sixty-six, but worlds apart by eighteen and seventy-eight. “Don’t tell Mum,” she says to him. He promises not to, on one condition: that the next time she goes on an adventure, she promises to take him with her. Then, one day, he asks to go home—not to his semi down the road, but to his historic roots. Her bluff has been called. Albania is a distant, mysterious land, and he can’t venture there alone.What follows is a wild, crazy journey, by turns unexpected and fantastical, as the unlikely pair soon find themselves journeying into the heart of a place unknown. The history of this dark, little-known country, which was cut off from the rest of the world for some forty years by its tyrannical dictator Enver Hoxha, is laid out in intriguing anecdotes and perilous paragraphs of narrative, told at an unrelenting, breakneck speed. The story is filled with passion and excitement, as the curious granddaughter is exposed to the culture of a country she has never known, yet is part of her heritage, and uncovers the truth about her grandfather’s life before he came to England. But as their journey reaches an end, she must now find a way to say goodbye to the grandfather she has only just had the chance to know.The storytelling remains engaging, poetic, and humorous throughout, packed with vivid imagery. For those of us who have experienced the hospitality and self-determination of the Albanians, it’s a joy to relive times spent there and hear themes of national identity and resistance to oppression brought to life.

When Susan Edsall’s partner of 11 years died, her life fell apart. Out of the blue, something told her to walk the Camino de Santiago. She didn’t believe in voices and knew nothing about the pilgrimage route, but she followed the impulse. Buen Camino, at Gilded Balloon at Appleton Tower, is her autobiographical story of those events, combined with elements of fantasy and more mysterious voices.She carries a mantra that keeps her focused on her aims and hopes: love, grace, beauty and freedom – a far cry from the life of heavy drinking she had fallen into. She knows she has to move forward and find new meaning without Jim, when her previous purpose had simply been loving him. She now believes that with his journey a brighter future awaits, for, as she says in the other mantra that divides the scenes: “The Camino provides.”Her personal quest makes this more than just a travelogue, though names of key places are included, along with details supplied by the Weather Fairy about the conditions she will face on each section of the route. Projected images, both real and fantastical, of people and places accompany her narrative, providing a visual focus. Through various voices she creates a multitude of characters that add entertainment value and enhance the story, though there may be too many for clarity.It’s an interesting rather than gripping journey along the road and through her life. Earnestly told and well presented, it is clearly of great significance to Edsall – though it’s not one that would inspire me to embark on the Camino.

Edge-of-nowhere, Glasgow, Central Belt. An abandoned, derelict bridge. A young man and an old man decide to take their own lives in the same spot at the same time. They've never met before. Neither expected anyone else to be there. This surprising coincidence means they now have to confront a changed situation. Conversation and questions cannot be avoided and neither can the often difficult answers.Kieran Lee-Hamilton’s bold and captivating debut play, Suicide, and Other Acts of Selfishness, is part of the inaugural season at the new Theatre 118 in Glasgow, which is committed to producing cutting-edge dramas rooted in Scotland. Written in punchy Scots, this play perfectly fits the bill, delving into the minds of two very different people who exemplify the human face of a quiet yet deadly epidemic that besets the country.The National Records of Scotland show that in 2023 there were 792 probable suicide deaths. Of those, 590 were males, making the male rate consistently nearly three times higher than that for females over the last 30 years. The highest levels are found in the most deprived and remotest areas, 2.4 times higher than in the cities, and Scotland tops the UK list. The average age of death is 46.6.Lee-Hamilton’s characters fall either side of that average. Dylan (Eli McFarland) is only 18, while Archie (Lindsay Anderson) is not yet a pensioner, a topic of recurring humour, but he is close. The casting is superb. The unlikely pairing is captivating in itself, and from the outset their delivery is gripping. The setting creates a sombre mood. Dylan stands on the edge of stage right, staring into the distance above and occasionally looking down; behind him, a large mesh barricade. Archie emerges from the darkness, deep stage left, and makes his way to the sturdy park bench. The awkwardness of the situation is immediately apparent. They both know what they're there to do. There is a sustained pause before Archie breaks the silence, and from the outset we are introduced to the performance devices written into the script and heightened through Frodo Allan’s stark, well-paced and sensitive direction.In two powerful performances, they both master the art of the pause, the reflective moment, often stretched to the maximum before the next thought or observation emerges. Then comes the ice-breaking comic, deadpan line, and we are suddenly laughing out loud. Yes, in this darkest of hours there are some hilarious moments. But that is the nature of black comedy that Lee-Hamilton has mastered, ingeniously alternating the dark with the light. It’s a device that forms a pattern, and both actors know how to play it.This is a triumphant premiere that will be tweaked into an even more stunning production that makes an important contribution to the discussion of male mental health.

Writer-director Luke Adamson says he's taken “a lot of creative licence” in the writing and staging of his latest play, The Unkillable Mike Malloy, at the Bridge House Theatre, Penge. However, the most remarkable thing is that it’s based on a bizarre true story.Michael Malloy (1873–1933), from Donegal, moved to New York City, where he ended up a homeless, unemployed alcoholic. It was the age of Prohibition. Five people took out a number of insurance policies on him through a corrupt agent, believing he was near death due to excessive drinking. One of the group owned a speakeasy and helped him on his way with an unlimited tab. But they underestimated Malloy’s resilience.With increasing desperation, they tried adding antifreeze to his whiskey, then turpentine, horse liniment and rat poison – and finally, wood alcohol – all to no avail. Similarly, raw oysters soaked in wood alcohol and sandwiches of rotting sardines mixed with poison and carpet tacks achieved nothing. In desperation, they drenched him in water and abandoned him outdoors on a freezing cold night. The police found him and took him to a shelter. Then they had him run over by a taxi, which only broke a few bones and hospitalised him for a few weeks. Their final idea worked, but police suspicion, a questionable death certificate and attempts to claim the insurance led to their arrest.Bryan Pilkington (Malloy) sustains a convincing drunken, folk-singing part, switching between costume and accent changes for several other characters. As a police officer, he is shocked to find the speakeasy run by a woman, Toni Marino. Stefani Ariza, however, leaves us in no doubt of her capabilities and control. Meanwhile, Will Croft narrates and plays gang member Francis Pasqua with period aplomb.Prison cell scenes bookend the play, which is staged in the style of film noir, with appropriate sound and compositions from Dan Bottomley. The trio carry the story through some 85 minutes that should really be no more than 60. The repetitive nature of the various attempts to kill Malloy is interesting only to a point – and we already know the ending, although it comes with a little twist. While there are elements of black comedy and farce, no single style fully asserts itself above being a narrative tale, albeit an absurd one.

The stark simplicity of Mike Bartlett’s 2009 play Cock shines through every moment in this staging by HER Productions at the Cockpit Theatre, on tour from the Hope Mill Theatre and heading to Shakespeare North.For some, the play may seem dated, yet nowhere has the bisexual conflict in the mind of one young man been so clearly laid bare. As such, it still contributes meaningfully to ongoing debates. It is not about what moralists see as rights and wrongs, but rather the inner turmoil of being confronted with externally imposed demands to declare your love and sexual inclinations as though they were a simple either/or predicament.John (Callum Ravden) thought he knew who he was, living happily with his boyfriend M (John O’Neill) of seven years – until he met W (Hannah Ellis Ryan). She shakes the foundations of his existence, teaches him about female anatomy and invites him to make love to her – which he does. Thus begins a back-and-forth between W and M, and a struggle between fidelity and betrayal. It assumes the biblical proportions of the debate between God and money: “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both...” Or in John’s case, you can position yourself in a perpetual tug-of-war between your homosexual partner and your heterosexual lover. You cannot move in with both; you are not Schrödinger’s cat.Director Rupert Hill has meticulously adhered to Bartlett’s limited instructions on the staging of Cock – no set, no props – allowing the text, which amply describes setting, costumes and actions, to speak for itself, unlike some less convincing West End productions. Hill goes further, prohibiting physical contact even when it might seem natural. This heightens the isolation and detachment of the characters from each other, despite their intimate relationships, and raises the tension. The action exists at both surface and subliminal levels, while the square performing space keeps the cast hemmed in, intensifying the sense of entrapment. The area allows for freedom of movement, yet it is choreographed with precision to accentuate the message and nature of the dialogue, which the cast delivers impeccably.Bartlett gives very clear markings and punctuation to denote delivery, and Hill has paid close attention to these, creating an energetic pace and a powerful group dynamic in which the tempi vary to reflect the mood and intensity of the exchanges. An outstanding cast rises to the demands of meticulous direction.Ravden is superb in his cutely naïve depiction of John’s confusion and dilemma – a man riddled with guilt and wracked with indecision. O’Neill conveys M’s frustration at having to deal with the situation while being desperately in love with John and aching for the settled existence his maturity desires. Bearing a credible father-son resemblance, Toby Hadoke exerts impassioned rhetoric in support of his son – a man from a previous generation who has espoused a remarkable level of liberal tolerance. However, he is accused by W of lecherously admiring her body during the difficult dinner party. Ryan’s W is not to be messed with; she gives a firmly confident portrayal of a woman able to confront and deal with anything thrown her way.As we come to know the characters, our sympathies are invoked all round as the tension rises to an emotional climax that easily induces a few tears.

Acclaimed Indian actor Vkinn Vats brings his highly anticipated monodrama The World of Madness to premiere at Prague Fringe, and it certainly lives up to its title. But don’t be put off—this is not the madness of stupidity or tomfoolery, but rather the madness that can overtake the mind and afflict the body.The fusion of words, often in poetic form, an evocative soundscape, startling lighting, and fiery physicality creates a moving, multi-sensory experience. The episodic storyline explores events and mood changes, beginning in relative stability and Bollywood dreams, progressing through a relationship, a breakup, a decline, a devastating drug-fueled breakdown, and culminating in a warzone denouement. The melting pot contains grief, love, expressions of masculinity, and a search for identity. The effect is cumulative, with each stage of the journey raising the emotional intensity, drawing us deeper into his turmoil and gripping tribulations. As Vats himself says, "Prepare to be transported into a kaleidoscopic fever dream of love, war, betrayal, and the fragile line between sanity and salvation."I’ll let him explain further the complex cross-genre work he has created. For him, it "explores the fractured psyche of a 'mama’s boy' who lands in La-La Land—not the Hollywood of dreams, but the underbelly of human contradictions... (and) confronts the ultimate human dilemma: To forgive or to avenge? To surrender or survive? To stay silent, or become the scream the world can’t ignore?”As both performer and creator, Vats wrote and directed this drama in a very short time. While the work has strong emotional impact, it would benefit from further development, revision, and editing to make it tighter. It could use another pair of eyes—perhaps those of Neha Jethva, who, with Vats, co-founded Shooting Star Studios, a company dedicated to creating "theatrical experiences that transcend borders and cultures."Whatever form its next iteration takes, this moving production is one to watch.

Pip Utton is a self-styled "strolling player," a point he emphasizes by noting that he has performed in venues "ranging from London’s Royal Albert Hall to Prague’s A Studio Rubin; from Chicago’s Theatre Chopin to Mumbai’s Sophia Bhabha Auditorium; from Edinburgh’s Assembly Ballroom to Horningsham’s Village Hall." He has become an institution as a solo performer on the modern fringe festival circuit. It’s fitting, then, that this man, who espouses the tradition of wandering theatre troupes from a bygone era, should now turn to The Bard for his latest monodrama.Utton first appeared at the Prague Fringe in 2008, and this year, he performs the world premiere of his adaptation of Shakespeare’s great tragedy, King Lear. While he may not have Lear’s “fourscore and upward” years, the 73 he has certainly add to the credibility of his remarkable performance. If Romeo requires youthfulness, Lear demands the weight of years and a lifetime of theatrical experience—along with stamina. In the intimacy of A Studio Rubin, we are as close as possible to the actor, who can hide nothing from us. And Utton doesn’t want to. He invites us to join him on yet another of his journeys, which, he says, are fuelled by his imagination.To explore King Lear in the span of an hour is a huge undertaking, but Utton rises to the occasion. He remains faithful to The Bard’s words, occasionally adding a thoughtful aside. For his solo show, he juggles the scene order, initially presenting Lear in a state of madness. Over time, we come to understand that senile dementia has slowly taken hold of him over the years. He still remembers the decisions he made but is now immersed in regret. He incredulously laments how he was duped by the false affections of Goneril and Regan, whose subsequent actions exposed his errors in judgment. He also bemoans his rash decision to disinherit Cordelia.Utton portrays a tragic figure—a man who once nobly wore the crown he gave away and now wanders aimlessly, with a circle of flowers on his head and royal robes reduced to the simple attire of a mendicant. He tells the main story, delivering the great speeches and turning points as flashbacks, like a man tormented by hindsight. Full of emotion, rage, and tearfulness, he always gives words their full weight, respecting Shakespeare’s meter in a poetic performance.He’s taking Pip Utton: King Lear to Edinburgh this year. If you want to witness a master of his craft in action, this is the show to see.

Tea is for every occasion, and in India it comes in an array of flavours with glorious perfumes that waft from the cup. It can both enhance and create a mood; it can wake you up in the morning and send you to sleep at night. Today, it celebrates the reunion of Babli (Taranjit Kaur) and Tejal (Archana Patel).The Chai Queens tells how they parted fifteen years ago: one to fulfil the tradition of arranged marriage, the other to escape the perils of being identified as a lesbian. Under different circumstances, in a future age, the wedding that brings them together might have been theirs — but that was not to be. However, they still have the dolls they played with years ago, and so we become immersed in the rites and ceremonies of an Indian wedding, as our hosts animate their toys and provide the words that make them partners for life.Ramanjit Kaur skilfully directs with ingenuity and sensitivity, allowing the natural charm of Kaur and Patel to shine through. Babli has successfully opened her sari shop and, although now a businesswoman and mother, she has not lost her sense of fun. Tejal is something of a little devil who still retains a wicked enjoyment of games and mischief. As the tension of seeing each other again fades, they reminisce, and we are drawn into a delightful tale of love, life, frustration, and joy.The props, their clothes, the sweets they share with us, the ceremonies, and the soundscape from many facets of Indian life provide a strong cultural framework for the dialogue. They were forced to grow up and move on, but instead of being filled with resentment, there is just a trace of melancholy in their voices — and a richer sense of gratitude for the time they shared.The Chai Queens is a delightful, experiential piece of theatre, full of insights that invite emotional attachment.

Fear of what the neighbours will say, fear of the priest’s penance and fear of God’s judgement hang over a fun-loving and somewhat rebellious young girl in The Red Shoes at Prague Fringe.Hans Christian Anderson’s somewhat gruesome fairy tale is given both an Irish and Buddhist makeover in this engaging adaptation, written and performed by Danni Cullen and directed by Jennifer Holland.If nationalities are blessed with certain talents, then Cullen excels in the art of storytelling and how to make it gripping, using her distinctive Irish lilt, engaging eyes, stunning head of hair and a range of vocal inflexions. In musical terms she can go from sforzando via marcato to fortepiano and legato in one sentence. Raised in a remote part of Wicklow, why would she not know all about storytelling as entertainment?Her tale is rooted in her own life and finding freedom away from the confines of catholicism and life in a claustrophobic community, but this is no self-indulgent piece of navel gazing, though she did some of that when she rose to the challenge of a ten day Vipassana silent retreat in southern Mexico. The passage of time is marked by striking together the tingsha, whose faded ring marks the end of one day and the start of yet another where she has to face the challenge of keeping her gob shut. However, this frees her mind to wander into a realm of stories and observations of people, when she is not thinking about food and the minimal rations she's living on.The Red Shoes story is personalised and placed firmly in an Irish village context. Around it are woven snippets of the oppression under which young people grow up and women seem to endure forever, in a place with an idyllic facade. But if you tell someone they can’t do something, then for sure they’ll go and do it along with other things even more wicked. Temptation is hard to resist, so we hear how you just give into it, perhaps escape through the bedroom window and get up to all sorts of shenanigans and revel in the joy of dancing.The heady blend of gossip, scandal, partying and sinning provides much humour, some amusing and some laugh-out-loud. Look beneath the surface of the craic, though, and Cullen’s show is an invitation to think about what you’re capable of and what holds you back; about whether you’ll conform, do as you’re told, so you don't get punished, or whether you have the courage to follow your own path. Will you, with Kate Bush “dance the dream and make the dream come true”?

The delightfully engaging Simar Singh and Priya Malik from the company UnErase Poetry return to Prague Fringe with their new show Love, Laughter & Longing after another highly successful, award-winning year.That’s more than can be said about the love life of the young Mr Singh. While not filled with dreadful disasters, his amorous intentions seem constantly thwarted by a certain shyness, social awkwardness, and inability to make a long-lasting impact on any of the girls and young women who have entered his life. Well, perhaps they felt like disasters back then. With characteristic dry humour and comedic timing, he relates various liaisons. They have promising beginnings and sometimes develop encouragingly, but rejection seems to inevitably come his way.His half of the show winds up with inspirational words and life lessons he has garnered from his experiences and leaves us with the belief that all is never lost, despite what might come our way. His narrative is not just flowing prose but incorporates passages in poetic form that better convey his feelings and emotions. This style is taken up to a greater extent by Malik, who uses extended verse to tell of her own romantic encounters, equally enhanced by light humour. Her ultimate story, despite some early misgivings and creepy behaviour on the part of the man concerned, turns out to be a romantic triumph, and she ends on an upbeat note. Together they provide an epilogue that brings their words into a neatly rounded package.It’s easy to understand why UnErase Poetry has become India’s largest spoken word collective, with over two million followers on social media. Their linguistic acuity, personal charm, and smooth delivery make for easy listening.

It's 24 years since Gareth Armstrong opened the first Prague Fringe with his monodrama Shylock. Now aged 76, he’s back again giving a masterful performance that reflects a lifetime of theatrical experience including classical plays with the Royal Shakespeare Company, lighter productions on TV such as One Foot in the Grave, EastEnders and Birds of a Feather and West End plays by Noël Coward, Tom Stoppard and more Agatha Christie.Inevitably, the Bard’s speeches come ‘trippingly on the tongue’, but there is far more to this work than the obvious recitations from The Merchant of Venice. Armstrong explores Shylock through the eyes of the only other Jew in the play; indeed the only other Jew in the entire Shakespearian canon. As bit parts go, the character of Tubal is easily glossed over. He enters the play halfway through Act III, scene 1 and has just eight lines, yet he has an importance in just being there. With Tubal in the frame, the otherwise isolated Shylock’s has a friend, albeit only one. His presence asserts that Jewish communities were present in cities across Europe and played an important role in commerce and the practice of money lending that was forbidden to Christians. We are reminded, of course, that they never forgot that scripture tells how the Jews begged Pilate to release Barabbas and crucify Jesus with the words, “His blood be upon us and our children”; all Jews for all time. It is not just Shylock who is on trial but all of Jewry.Thus Armstrong’s story contains not only delightful renditions of extracts from the play, but also strives to put the character in context by looking at historical aspects of the Jews in Europe and the role over time.Yet throughout, this remains a piece of theatre, replete with movement characters, voices, props and costumes all tightly directed.

If you put on a show about a man with a huge following, his devotees are almost guaranteed to turn up in droves to honour their hero - which probably explains why Marc Burrows plays to full houses with his show, The Magic of Terry Pratchett.It's likely that fans will love anything that promotes the man, his writing and his perspective on life. The test is whether people drawn by curiosity - who may know the man only by name, and who may never have read any of his many books (yes, fans, such people do exist - I’m one of them) - can find it rewarding.Burrows is aware of this, and his informal poll of the audience before the show really gets underway proves that he’s preaching to the choir. His skill lies in making the show accessible to those with no prior knowledge, and who want to know how a man of humble origins became a cult figure. Burrows lays this out clearly in a chronological presentation that is rich with projected photographs, newspaper headlines, video footage of the man himself and quotations from his speeches and books.His approach is convivial, light-hearted and earnest. His encyclopedic knowledge of the author becomes less surprising once we learn that Burrows was the first - if not the official - biographer of Pratchett, his credentials enhanced by the blessing of the Pratchett estate. He is, without doubt, an authority on the subject, fired with the zeal of a disciple and a touch of nerdiness. There is much to listen to and much to see as the presentation progresses, littered with humorous asides and witty juxtapositions.There is plenty that plays to Pratchett’s avid readers, with references to many of his works and frequent quotations. They lap it up and cheer him along, while those of us on the sidelines can delight in seeing them so thrilled - without feeling left out.

I’ve often wondered why both the rural and urban landscape is not littered with dead birds. Do Birds Hide to Die provides no answer - and the play is not about dead birds, although there is a treasured one in the small tin that Violet (Eleanor Cobb) carries in procession from the back of the theatre, accompanied by her mother, Lily (Fanny Le Pironnec). They ceremoniously bury it before the flashback ends.Lily is writing a book, but is struggling to find an ending to her story. As she sits alone at her desk, she is haunted by the recurring presence of her deceased daughter - a destructive loop of fraught emotions. She tries to push them aside, but there is no escaping the memories of the short time they spent together. Sequences of trying to keep the house tidy are repeated in her mind as she remembers how Violet messed it up with her drawings scattered around the floor. Then she recalls the game Violet played of seeing how long she could hold her breath while submerged in the bath.Violet never knew her father, but desperately wants to be told about him. For Lily, it is a painful recollection, suggested only in a brief movement sequence - a story she will never tell. She always ignores the question and changes the subject. Violet resumes her fascination with birds, and where they - and people - go when they die.Cobb beautifully captures the characteristics of a child through movement, facial expressions and vocal delivery. Le Pironnec, meanwhile, conveys the stress of a single parent: the attempts to balance caring for her daughter with trying to finish her book and keep the house tidy. That’s how life was, but now she has only trauma and memory to occupy her life of solitude.Both performances are captivating and shine above the play itself, which is complex and often confusing. Yet for those who like to speculate about meaning and weave their own experiences and emotions into a story, it is probably fertile territory.

Christopher Sainton-Clark has scored another triumph with his new monodrama, The Night That Ali Died, which makes its debut at Prague Fringe.After his performance, I spoke to two young people from Melbourne in the delightful courtyard of the Museum of Alchemists and Magicians of Old Prague. They said the play was like reading a crime fiction novel or watching a TV crime series condensed into one hour. And they were absolutely right. Their words capture the intensity of the action and the depth of story packed into this gripping drama, which offers plenty of humour without ever losing its focus as a detective tale centred on the tragedy of a young man out of his depth.The protagonist’s Arabic-sounding name might initially suggest a plot involving a terrorist organisation or persecuted freedom fighters, but we’re told from the outset that Ali is short for Alistair – and he is entirely English. This is, in fact, a story of criminal gangs, drugs and murder, set not in a gritty inner-city borough but in sleepy Norwich. And if Inspector Morse can find plenty to investigate in Oxford – and Midsomer Murders in the countryside – why not Norwich? It also provides one of the funniest lines in the play.Ali works in a chemical laboratory with Tony, whom he discovers is abusing his access to drugs. Foolishly, though with good intentions, Ali begins to investigate. He soon witnesses a gruesome murder and becomes a key witness in the police investigation. Although placed under police protection for his and his family’s safety, he abandons his failing marriage, bids farewell to his baby, and escapes surveillance. But he knows too much – and it’s not just the police who are looking for him. The plot thickens, with twists at every turn.Four distinct characters are vividly portrayed through shifts in voice, physicality and costume, with each offering their own perspective on events. It’s a clever device that allows insight into each character’s mind. A simple chair and briefcase are used effectively, supported by a soundscape that conjures atmosphere and setting to enhance the storytelling.Sainton-Clark’s company, Raising Cain Productions, is committed to creating “bold and cinematic theatre that provokes thought and entertains in equal measure”, and this production certainly delivers. He has again collaborated with accomplished director and dramaturg Rosanna Mallinson, whose minimal, physical approach – shaped by her training at L'École Internationale de Théâtre Jacques Lecoq – also contributed to the success of his award-winning A Year and a Day. Here, it elevates the intensity of the storytelling.There’s only one way to find out what happened on the night that Ali died – and it’s a must-see. But if you want to experience a different side to Sainton-Clark’s range, he’s also performing Tales from a Country Pub at the Prague Fringe, telling stories through his own songs – and playing guitar.

Fraternities are an integral part of university life in the USA. While the organisations and their members are well known on every campus, they still carry a certain air of mystery and secrecy, rather like the Freemasons. What goes on behind closed doors - and the implications of being a faithful member of such a society - forms the basis of Max Allen’s gripping debut play FRAT.There is a highly talented team that makes FRAT a compelling production. Max Allen is joined on stage by Luke Stiles, Elliott Diner and Will Hammond. All are graduates of LAMDA, and the quality of their training shines through every moment of the play. With their first lines, they instil confidence as performers – each manifestly self-assured and able to generate a powerful presence, delivering the dialogue with clarity and conviction. From the outset, you know this is going to be good. We become familiar with the characters and their roles in the formally structured Beta Chi Omega, and as we gain insights into the camaraderie and banter of frat life, an air of suspense creeps in and we begin to wonder where it’s all heading.An abstract soundscape by Pierre Flasse hauntingly increases the tension, and the atmosphere is heightened by lighting from Mason Delman. Seeds are sown - often in casual lines - that suggest all is not well beneath the superficial playfulness masking deeper feelings. The green-eyed monster lurks within the pack; envy runs deep, and before long, events unfold at the fraternity’s big night that cannot be camouflaged. The party turns into a courtroom drama.The story is a heady mix, influenced by major works such as The Riot Club and Lord of the Flies, and it’s a refreshing choice of subject, exploring power, masculinity, group morality, tradition and identity in a gutsy manner. Director Olivia Woods rises to the challenge of the confined space with well-crafted, flowing movement that matches the pace and precision of the delivery. These are early yet highly successful days for this play. Inevitably, as with any new work, some tweaking and development remain, but even now, it is a towering piece of theatre with a stunning cast.FRAT had a sold-out London premiere at the Old Red Lion Theatre before going to Brighton Fringe. It is also heading to Edinburgh this August and has been selected for performance at the prestigious international Comparative Drama Conference in July 2025.

Who knows what lies beneath the seemingly respectable, very ordinary, and rather bland lives of those who occupy suburban London? Jez Butterworth’s Parlour Song, at Greenwich Theatre, hovers over that surface and, without probing too deeply, finds life to be more uneasy, uncomfortable, and unsatisfactory than it seems.Dale (Jeremy Edwards) grudgingly runs his own car-wash business, employing teams of immigrants. He lives in some awe of his neighbour, Ned (Naveed Khan), a demolition contractor—a job that, to Dale, seems full of thrills and excitement, and from which Ned derives real pleasure. Together, they often watch recordings of the detonations Ned has carried out. Ned wants to lose weight, and in some highly entertaining and comical scenes, Dale instructs him in basic exercises while Ned recounts various possessions that have mysteriously vanished from his house—a recurring theme, as the list continues to grow. Meanwhile, his wife—ironically named Joy (Kellie Shirley)—languishes next door with little to do but reflect on eleven years in an unrewarding marriage and contemplate making sexual advances towards Dale.Rather than finding contentment in their lives, each ultimately longs to escape from what they have. The dialogue is broodingly comic, and each member of the talented cast successfully conveys their character’s frustrations, fears, and shortcomings. Even more impressive is the way they rise to Butterworth’s challenge of portraying the tragic human conditions that lie beneath the words. The script goes only so far, but the wheels turning inside their heads say so much more—and the cast makes this palpable.Director James Haddrell describes the play as a "theatrical comedy of manners wrapped up in an unsettling satire of suburban life," and he has carefully worked to enhance the text with supporting business that never detracts from it. Design by Emily Bestow and lighting by Henry Slater achieve the same effect in equal measure, with the outlines of houses providing a façade for projections.Together, they have created a thought-provoking and reflective production tinged with an element of mystery.

Brian Rix, the Whitehall Farces, and their successors from the 1950s were part of my life growing up, as they must have been for almost everyone packed into what felt like a matinee for senior citizens of Noises Off at the New Wolsey Theatre, Ipswich, last Thursday.Michael Frayn’s frantic farce premiered in 1982 but draws on a long tradition of the genre. Specifically, it was inspired by his 1970 play The Two of Us. One day, he watched a performance from the wings and commented, “It was funnier from behind than in front, and I thought that one day I must write a farce from behind.” Hence, he went on to write Noises Off, which starts at the technical rehearsal for another farce, Nothing On. This creates maximum chaos and complexity, as we have a farce within a farce, with the same actors playing parts in both productions.It’s set in a modernised mill house, replete with that vital ingredient in farces: doors. There are seven of them, along with three other exits. This set provides the bookends for a middle section, which depicts a matinée performance one month later. The set is turned inside out, and we witness the same opening act from behind, with silent gesturing, mad business, and already faltering relationships.Finally, the set is rotated back to where we started, but this time it’s a performance in Stockton-on-Tees, at the end of the ten-week tour. Relationships have decayed further, stress is the dominant emotion, and wear and tear have taken their toll on the set and props, causing the actors to frequently abandon the script and ad-lib their way to the bitter end.It’s a high-energy show that demands physical agility, impeccable timing in both delivery and movement, and the creation of credible, often eccentric characters in both plays. The cast—Hisham Abdel Razek, Ezra Alexander, Clare-Louise English, George Kemp, Harry Long, Hilary Maclean, Russell Richardson, Ailsa Joy, and Gemma Salter—under the tight direction of Douglas Rintoul, create a jaw-dropping sensation that makes one wonder just how they manage to do it. The same goes for the creative team, with sound design by Helen Atkinson, assistant direction by Charlie Flynn, lighting design by KJ, fight, movement, and intimacy direction by Haruka Kuroda, set and costume design by Clio Van Aerde, and wardrobe supervision by Rebecca Rawlinson-Allen—all of whom rise to the occasion. An actual round of applause that afternoon also went to the highly efficient team of stagehands, who physically rotated and rebuilt the set without the aid of a revolve.This production marks New Wolsey Theatre’s first-ever international collaboration and is co-produced by Queen’s Theatre Hornchurch, Les Théâtres de la Ville de Luxembourg, and Theatre by the Lake. It can be seen at those venues as part of its tour.

Ari Freed (Ilan Galkoff) strolls down the side aisle of the Marylebone Theatre and casually addresses us as though we were friends. He’s cheerful, endearing, even amusing, and pleased to see us. He’s also surprised at the number of people who have turned up—and welcomes us to his funeral.The drape over two versatile benches creates the image of a coffin, separating Mrs Freed, his mother (Clara Francis), at one end from his father, Dr Freed (Ben Caplan), at the other—positions symbolic of the distance between them in their marriage. Behind the lectern stands Rabbi Lev (Andrew Paul), who tries to be all things to all people. Ariel’s prominent bar mitzvah photograph cues a re-enactment of the tearful events of his coming-of-age celebration, unveiling the misery that has dominated his life and his awareness of the devastating effect that revealing his sexuality will have on his family. As the characters come to life, we move into an uneasy blend of theatrical styles.His controlling father, who has espoused Orthodox Judaism with dogmatic fervour, disowns him, while his mother, burdened with Ari’s eleven siblings, becomes complicit through her helplessness. Yet in a play that is overwritten, her part feels underwritten.For those who have been through the process of coming out to intolerant parents, especially within a strict religious family, there may well be identification with Ari and a setting that resonates, **** confirmed by a young man I met after the performance who was moved by the story and recognised many of the struggles portrayed.As a piece of theatre, however, it is less rewarding. The number of scenes necessitates frequent reorganising of David Shields’ basic and necessarily versatile set, while Nic Farman’s ever-changing lights respond accordingly. Just in case we are unclear about Ari’s real-life situation, a play within the play is constructed, based on the Jewish parable of the Prince and the Turkey (gobble, gobble).  This unnecessary and laboured pantomime-style intrusion is such a blatant allegory that it feels like an insult to the audience’s intelligence. The notorious 'clobber' passage from Leviticus 20 is recited to justify the homophobia that Ari suffers, a reminder that those obsessed with power and control are always happy to quote words that suit their agenda while ignoring their meaning in context. We also have the AIDS crisis thrown in for good measure, along with a sexual twist to Dr Freed’s story.Many of the scenes seem contrived, and it is left to Yiftach Mizrahi, as the confidante Sammy Stein and ‘daddy’ figure in Ari’s life, to bring some reality, humanity, and credibility to the story. Between them, they save the day.

Some 12 years ago, Stephen Rea contemplated the possibility of performing Krapp’s Last Tape. He says: “I had no certainty that one day I might play Krapp, but I thought it a good idea to pre-record the early tapes so that the voice quality would differ significantly from that of the older character, should the opportunity ever arise to use it."Now his day has come at the Barbican, and his foresight adds another dimension to director Vicky Featherstone's production of Samuel Beckett’s classic work. Here is the 78-year-old Rea in the role of a 69-year-old man listening to the words of his younger voice. Jamie Vartan’s spartan set places him front stage on a raised platform with just his table (that provides its own comedy) and a chair. Eoin Lennon’s lighting provides a very dimly lit space that appropriately creates the idea of the “den”, as per the script, but offers little to illuminate Rea or the business of the 55-minute play. While it scales down the enormity of the stage and auditorium, an 1,100-plus-seat theatre still feels inappropriate for such an intimate solo show.A long pause opens the play, giving time to focus on the lone man before the familiar actions are rolled out. Our curiosity is aroused as to why someone living alone would bother to lock the table drawer, when it seemingly contains nothing of value, and to ceremoniously repeat the action after each banana is removed, always fumbling for his keys. And what are bananas doing tucked away in the depths of the drawer, anyway? But these are rituals no doubt developed over years of living in isolation, in the same way that every year on his birthday he would record a review of the previous year. On this birthday, however, he has also decided to listen to a tape he made three decades ago.We hear of an intimate relationship, of love that was lost, and reflect on the hapless, empty life that ensued. Rea captures the melancholy, reflexive mood while enjoying the playfulness of Krapp's fascination with the word “spool”, providing moments of amusement. Overall, however, the measured delivery lacks the emotional depth to draw us in to feeling anything about the man or his plight.

Benjamin Britten was not the easiest person with whom to form an attachment, much less a friendship and to work for, but Imagen Holst, a focussed, determined and eccentric woman with an outstanding musical pedigree, persevered in the matter and remained close at hand until his death.Mark Ravenhill’s delightful new stage version of his 2013 radio play, now named Ben and Imo, brings together Samuel Barnett and Victoria Yeates in this microscopic two-hander at the always stunning Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond. Imo enters the music room of Britten’s Aldeburgh house where they tentatively explore the boundaries of her position as what can loosely be described as his assistant along with the even more vague financial remuneration, terms and conditions she might expect. It sets the tone for the ups and downs of the ensuing volatile relationship. With some lack of self-certainty Britten has given way to his ego and accepted the commission to compose an opera in honour of Elizabeth II’s accession to the throne. The deadline places them both under pressure.Barnett captures Britten’s mood swings: at times nervous and unsure of himself with a rather pubic schoolboy demeanor in need of comfort and support, then raging and demanding particularly in the second act where he becomes far more uncomfortably aggressive and distasteful. Yeates shows that Imo is a force to be reckoned with and a person prepared to commit herself wholeheartedly to a task, as she did with her father, Gustav’s work, in her teaching at Dartington and would go on to do in influencing the Aldeburgh Festival. Yet she never denies her humanity and on occasion lets us in beneath the often stern and always coping exterior to reveal that she too has feelings. Under the sensitive direction of Erica Whyman they give careful attention to pace and timing. This is especially noticeable in the many witty and light-hearted moments. Expressing high hopes for the newly formed Arts Council now seems amusingly wishful thinking. Revelations about Britten’s loathing of dance hit hard on Frederick Ashton and I’d go back again to just hear Barnett deliver his line on Ninette de Valois. These moments and others also give subtle historical context to the creation of Gloriana.The creative team has done a fabulous job in creating the setting for this piece. Soutra Gilmour’s design centres around the baby grand, with just a music rack, drinks trolley, armchair and a standard lamp on a floor covering of pastel blue carpet. Scene changes are marked by a turn of the revolve and accompanied by coastal sounds courtesy of Carolyn Downing and musical passages from Conor Mitchell played by Connor Fogel. It’s all very homely yet functional. Watching the progress of the project unfold and their relationship develop provides a fascinating focus, though the piece is perhaps a little over-extended with a somewhat jarring and abrupt change of tone in the second half, but otherwise it’s a gratifying and captivating tribute to two outstanding individuals.

Conor McPherson’s latest play, which he also directs, might benefit from a more intimate setting than the Old Vic, but The Brightening Air retains an element of claustrophobia as the eight members of a feuding family in rural Ireland explore their bonds and divisions in equal measure.It’s a solid ensemble piece that enables members of the talented cast moments to shine through and reveal their abilities as character actors in this Chekhovian-style piece, that has plenty of humour amid an assortment of frustrations, regrets, displays of anger and some dreams too. Three siblings form the heart of the play. Stephen (Brian Gleeson) and Billie (Rosie Sheehy) live together. Then there is the rebellious Dermot (Chris O’Dowd), whose arrival at the house disturbs the peace. That he is accompanied by Freya (Aisling Kearns), who is rather embarrassingly many years his younger and clearly of another generation, simply fuels the flames of discord, especially as his estranged wife Lydia (Hannah Morrish) is still part of the family and present in the house.While the play is rooted in the practicalities of life it is also imbued with an air of mysticism that is reflected in Rae Smith’s set with its upstage gauzes and the moody lighting design by Mark Henderson. Lydia pays Billie to bring magical water from a distant stream that she believes will restore her marriage. Without being mentioned one feels that the leprechauns, banshees, kelpies and changelings are never far away. Pierre (Seán McGinley), the unfrocked priest on whom a miracle befalls, roams the house holding forth in a manner far removed from his catholic past. It's left to Elizabeth (Derbhle Crotty), his faithful housekeeper, to keep him in order. One more character and storyline is thrown into the melting pot with Brendan (Eimhin Fitzgerald Doherty), a simple love-sick farmhand whose yearning for Billie stands no chance of being fulfilled.The Brightening Air is well-written and a delight to watch, yet it doesn't really satisfy. There’s a lot, if not too much going on, and by the end one wonders, “What was it all for, where does it leave us and what have we learned?”

Mark Lockyer gives a remarkable and compelling performance in Fiona Laird’s shrewdly abridged version of Shakespeare’s Danish tragedy, The Play’s the Thing: A One-Person Hamlet, which she also directs.Wilton’s Music Hall is a cavernous space. The stage is deep and wide, but Laird confines the movement to the expansive apron, with staging blocks almost barricading what is behind. A modestly regal chair is tucked away down left; a place for Lockyer to take a break and towel his face between the newly-devised ‘acts’. A length of shimmering red cloth hangs stage right from the ceiling to the raised floor level behind the apron, its modest width offering just a hint of power, royalty and blood, in vivid contrast to the otherwise ‘sterile promontory’ that is suggestive of Hamlet’s loneliness and isolation in his empty world. Only some highly effective lighting by Tim Mitchell serves as an emotional and mood-setting aid to Lockyer’s performance. Thereafter it is just the man with the text.It is the text that reigns supreme in this production. A palpable passion to convey meaning, and to ensure that every word and construct is understood emanates from Lockyer throughout, as though he is pleading with us to get the message. As he takes on all the roles in the play, it becomes increasingly clear that his characterisations are not about displaying his consummate versatility as an actor, although they do this abundantly, but rather that they are concerned with showing each person as a distinct individual who has a vital part to play in the unfolding of the drama and above all that their words in context should be fully comprehended.Nowhere does this become more clear than in the heartfelt delivery of the most challenging of speeches, To be or not to be… Setting aside all grandeur, he sits humbly on the floor and calmly allows the mental cogs to turn. He earnestly sets out the dilemmas, making sure the emphasis is placed on certain words to convey the logic of the argument that is disturbing his mind. Is it better to ‘suffer… or take arms’?With all lines meticulously enunciated, vivid characterisation and explicatory storytelling dominate. Amidst the many takes on male roles through a range of voices and postures he also brings an appropriate air of sensitive femininity to Gertrude and Ophelia. Humour and light-heartedness are interspersed among the anger and tension, while the complexities of staging a one-man duel are overcome by his acting skills and the ingenious fight direction by Dan Fraser.Together, Lockyer and Laird deliver a rigorous exposition of the play, stylishly directed and consummately performed.

If location is everything, Teatro dei Giordi at the Coronet Theatre have espoused this sentiment in their latest work, Pandora, which transforms the stage into a unisex public lavatory. For just over an hour, we face the soap dispenser, the mirror and wash-basins, the electric hand dryer, the urinals and closets of a focussed and spacious set by Anna Maddalena Cingi that feels very familiar. This is a universal convenience that one might find at an airport or railway station, in a shopping mall or beneath a bustling street. The last of these makes for greater credibility in terms of where the people who use the facilities might have come from, but again, that is not a vital element of this absurdist and surreal work. Placing it elsewhere simply stretches the imagination further.The comings and goings have a feel of time-lapse photography. The air of normality that surrounds the first person to appear from out of the closet is soon shattered when he turns out to be a hygiene-obsessed germaphobe enduring a highly challenging set of circumstances made worse by his own clumsiness. He leaves with an unresolved situation but the production is neatly rounded off with his return in the closing sequence and the matter is resolved. He is a gentle, comic introduction to the more extreme behaviours that follow as we begin to realise that even in this place there are conventions we generally conform to that are being challenged. While someone vomiting or an approach to engage in homosexual activity might not be uncommon, it’s not every day a pop-up choir of naked men perform in such a place. Meanwhile, we run the gamut of responses: amusement, shock, horror, surprise and revulsion come and go amid the moto perpetuo of vignettes.An accomplished cast of Claudia Caldarano, Cecilia Campani, Giovani Longhin, Andrea Panigatti, Sandro Pivotti and Matteo Vitanza play over 50 parts. The collaborative methodology of the company means that they were also intimately involved in the creation of the piece, developing director Riccardo Pippa’s concept through hours of ideation, experimentation, improvisation and refinement. The result is not a tightly structured play with defined characters but rather a fascinating snapshot of figures engaged in fast-paced, idiosyncratic and eccentric behaviours. If the real world is their stage then this space is their dressing room where they prepare for life’s challenges, let off steam and give vent to their emotions. Perhaps this is a place of hope where they find the resolve to face the challenges and difficulties of life brought about by opening Pandora’s box, or maybe it's just a day in the life of a public convenience.

Nick Payne’s One Day When We Were Young is a neatly crafted trio of vignettes, each of which provides an insight into how the lives of Violet (Cassie Bradley) and Leonard (Barney White) progress over a period of 60 years.The three significant moments in the lives of the two provide a micro view of their relationship, revealing their long-term love and affection for each other, along with the obstacles that came their way and the difficulties they encountered. Their conversations fill in the intervening years, providing backstories that fill out the picture of their long and tenuous romance. Initially, we encounter them in a hotel bedroom. The first soldiers from the USA have arrived to join in the war effort. Lionel has received his call-up papers and in the morning he must leave to fight on the European Front. He survives the battles, but not without complications that undermine the promises they made to each other that night. How their futures evolve is the subject of the two following scenes. James Haddrell, Artistic Director of Greenwich Theatre, has longed to direct this play and pays tribute to the actors who have the skills he was looking for to pull off this demanding work. “Both,” he says, “have an astonishing ability to see beyond the physical ageing process and understand the ageing of intelligence and emotion–two hearts ageing in parallel, though not always in unison.” Their ageing is certainly well-crafted, with changes of gait, the wearing of spectacles, the acquisition of a limp for one and arthritic hands for the other indicating the passing of time matched by changes in voice. With age, their always tentative exchanges become even more measured as they furtively reference the life that might have been. An air of melancholy pervades the scenes that are intimate but slow-moving, a mood aided by the confines of Studio 90 at the Park Theatre, and Pollyanna Elston’s realistic and flexible sets, lighting by Henry Slater and the all-important sound effects by Aidan Good.It’s an interesting rather than gripping love story told with sensitivity.

Rober Bolt’s A Man for All Seasons, is steeped in the politics of the age, but the dispositions of its characters have a timelessness that inescapably leads us to reflect on the world's current leaders. Simon Higlett’s set and costumes leave us in no doubt that this is a Tudor period piece. The wood panelling that surrounds the perimeters of the stage is black and foreboding, yet flexibly creates multiple locations, assisted by evocative lighting from Mark Henderson: Moore’s home, rooms in the Tower and palaces, the prison cell and scaffold and the banks of the Thames. Martin Shaw powerfully portrays the many facets of Sir Thomas More, embodying Bolt’s desire to reveal him as a man of principle and integrity, a scholar, legal expert and ruthless logician, a loyal subject and devoted family man. More becomes swept up in the intense moral and political manoeuvrings that dominated the reign of Henry VIII. Orlando James, presents the king as an affable fellow whose main concern at this time is to ensure his divorce from Queen Catherine. He wants to carry his friend with him on this and even appoints More to the office of Lord Chancellor, but such is More’s devotion to his faith and the letter of the law that the King's requests prove impossible. In the presence of More, others seem to be somewhat dim-witted. Shaw clearly shows the man’s frustration at being surrounded by intellectual inferiors and those who would compromise in order to please the King, fearing his judgement above that of God’s. At the forefront of these is Norfolk, whom Timothy Watson shows to be the compromising pragmatist; a bewildered man lost in a legal and theological sea and who’s only basis for action is self preservation. He is the antithesis of More. Other vivid portrayals come from Nicholas Day as Cardinal Wolsey, a milder version of the scheming Thomas Cromwell (Edward Bennett), though equally unworthy of office, as is Archbishop Thomas Cranmer (Sam Parks). Bennett creates a chilling character who draws the weak, the gullible and the ambitious into his machinations, because he knows he can successfully use and manipulate them, as Calum Finlay’s Roper demonstrates in a dangerous blend of ambition and naivete.To move the play along, Bolt created The Common Man as a narrator and versatile character to assume numerous bit parts. Gary Wilmot provides light moments of observation and comment and has that essential down-to-earth quality demanded of the role.Director Jonathan Church faithfully delivers Bolt’s text in a production that is a joy for all lovers of historical drama.

For those of us who lived through the era of Larry Grayson, What a Gay Day, at the Bridge House Theatre, Penge, is a joyous walk down memory lane. Tim Connery’s chronological script, charmingly delivered by Luke Adamson, takes us through Grayson’s life from cradle to grave. interspersed with imaginary performances in some of the many venues where he starred; from humble working men’s clubs with audiences of local miners to the splendours of the London Palladium in front of royalty. Grayson’s shows were littered with references to people he knew from growing up in Nuneaton. His mother was unmarried, making him a bastard child at a time when that was a disgrace. She entrusted him to the care of Alice and Jim Hammonds, though she remained on the scene and Larry knew her as Aunt Alice, not to be confused with Slack Alice, based on a lady who sold inferior quality coal of the sort her name suggests. Adamson sympathetically reveals Grayson’s devotion to his family and the tragedies of his early years, as the deaths of those close to him mount up, including the tragic loss of Tom Proctor, his best friend from school days and the man with whom he would probably have spent his life, but he was killed at the Battle of Monte Cassino aged just 21. He lived on in Grayson’s most famous character Everard Farquharson, in company with Apricot Lil, who worked in the local jam factory, Sterilised Stan the milkman and the postman Pop-it-In Pete.Adamson makes no attempt at impersonation but uses the manner of Grayson’s delivery to put us in his presence, assisted by the characteristic pale suit, the contrapposto stance, worthy of Michael Angelo's David, with the left leg angled, while leaning on his ever-present bentwood chair, uttering “Look at the muck on ‘ere” and “Shut that door” along with the title of this show and innuendos he spouted in seeming innocence only to be shocked at his audience's interpretation.There is also an insight into the history of the gay movement that celebrated the de-criminalisation of homosexual acts, Grayson’s rejection by the BBC and his rise to fame as the host of The Generation Game and his condemnation at the hands of the Gay Libertaion Front.It’s all there and under Alex Donald’s precise direction Adamson delivers Grayson's fascinating story with sensitivity and humour, though Grayson, looking down from above, might simply praise him with, “Seems like a nice boy”.

Four major elements combine in Pina Bausch's Vollmond at Sadler's Wells to create an intriguing two-hour, two-act production of contemporary dance from Tanztheater Wuppertal Pina Bausch + Terrain Boris Charmatz. The set, movement, staging and music are interwoven to create entertaining, multi-themed scenarios.Peter Pabst’s now famous monolithic set for this work is visible on entering the auditorium. The giant boulder dominates throughout with a magnetic surrealism and animistic presence. From where I was seated it appeared as an abstract facial image, whose recesses and protrusions created a mouth, nose and horizontal seeing area, giving it a presence beyond just its size. The choreography embraces the feature as dancers leap and climb on and off it, move around it, shower it in buckets of water and swim from one side of the river to the other, passing behind it.It’s an action-packed, highly physical work. Some scenes pass quickly while others are extended by Bausch's characteristic repetition of motifs. This style, with its absurdist connotations and featuring everyday objects, is made clear from the outset. The opening entrance of two men would be unremarkable were it not for the actions that follow. In both hands they each have empty plastic water bottles. In turn they swish them back and forth making a muted whooshing noise way beyond the moment at which the point is made. Some scenes appear as staccato anecdotes, others flow into longer expositions as the ensemble is introduced in solo and group sequences. Amusement becomes the norm through minimal use of words and comic interactions. A range of music from Tom Waits, Amon Tobin, Alexander Balanescu and Cat Power, supplements the action and enhances the various moods of love, conflict and competition.As the piece progresses it becomes more elemental and we become increasingly reminded that the title refers to a high tide or full moon. Forces of nature are at work and the moment arrives when the rain begins to come down, sometimes as a fine gauze and frequently as fierce showers. The dance increasingly embraces this until it climaxes in aqautic frenzy.Vollmond is packed with imagery yet often moves at a pace that leaves little time for reflection. Whatever interpretations one takes away or what sense one tries to make of it, the piece is entertaining, energetic and stunningly executed.

Intermission Youth Theatre continues its tradition of radical takes on Shakespeare with Much Ado About Nothing Remixed featuring the customary two alternating casts. They’ve left their former venue in Chelsea, where they had memorable successes with MSND, Taming Who and Juliet and Romeo. Their current four-week run is at the newly relaunched Collective Theatre in Finsbury Park; a minimalist reclamation of an exposed-brick building with tiered seating and, for this production, a thrust stage.True to the original, the action of the play takes place in Messina, now transformed into a 21st-century holiday destination and party island to match Ibiza. First off the flight are the girls, complete with suitcases, stunning outfits and minds set on ‘sun, sea, sand and snorkling’. Right! Within minutes the lads arrive. Promotor Leon has invited Don P and the Aragon boys, Benedick and Claudio, onto his turf, not knowing that his younger sister, Hero, and fiery cousin Beatrice, have also just checked in. When Claudio locks eyes with Hero, it’s love at first sight but with “zero game” he must persuade Don P to help him win her love. However, DJ, (Don P’s illegitimate and jealous sibling) plots to deceive Claudio into believing Hero is unfaithful and chaos ensues. Meanwhile, Don P, convinced that Benedick and Beatrice are secretly in love, musters up a plan to get them together. Confused? Yes. And that is just the start of Shakespeare’s convoluted comedy of errors, dare one say? In a classical production, striving to understand its complexity might matter, and that is not to say it’s unimportant here, but ultimately there is so much joyous theatre going on, that it’s a minor detail. If a stage full of young people immersed in their roles meaningfully reciting the verbiage of the Bard interspersed with contemporary street talk be the food of theatre, give me excess of it, man.Will Claudio get his girl? Will DJ ruin the party? Will Beatrice and Benedick hook up? Who cares? Here the medium, under the bold direction of Nana Antwi-Nyanin, is the message. Intermission’s Artistic Director, Darren Raymond, says, ‘I wrote Much Ado About Nothing Remixed because that’s what I do, I remix Shakespeare. In many ways the world has moved on since the Elizabethan days, but some unhelpful attitudes and ways of thinking still exist. This remix interrogates love, deception, misogyny, and gender through a 21st century, young London lens.’ Thus the company remains faithful to Shakespeare’s intention of using a medium that speaks to ordinary people in their own language.And for those who perform, the experience is transformative. Read the testimonials of Intermission actors whose lives have been changed beyond their wildest dreams since discovering that the timeless themes of the Bard are about them. Don't miss this opportunity to experience a colourfully staged, stunningly performed and very funny adaptation of this classic and to support those who have been the beneficiaries of the company’s endeavours “to improve their mental health, social skills, life outcomes and outlook on their ambitions”. Find out more about Intermission Youth here.

Making your professional debut as a playwright, is a nerve-racking experience, but Nina Fuentes can set aside any doubts or fears following the rapturous reception that the premiere of A Million Miles Under Hampstead Heath by nothing theatre received at the Lion and Unicorn. Sensitely directed by Robert Monaghan, the play is an enchanting and captivating work. Dialogue and inner monologues flow from one moment to the next, raising issues in a burgeoning relationship that explores the delights and dramas of forming a loving attachment to someone. Maya (Anna Hewitt) and James (George Prentice) are two successful young professionals who bump into each other each evening on their commute from a day at the office. The open casting resulted in the perfect pairing of these two actors and in so-doing created a couple who are so well-suited to each other and so abundantly at ease in each other’s company, it's hard not to imagine that they have known each other for years and that they are a couple in real life. They are not; they just seem made for each other. That appearance is explored in the tightly woven, 60-minute story.Initially they do not speak to each other. Instead we hear their thoughts as they awkwardly look at each other. Fuentes cleverly suggests a bond as words from a line spoken by Maya that express her thoughts or feelings will be repeated by James as an introduction to what he wishes to say, and vice-versa. It’s a highly effective device that provides momentum and identification with the other party. Eventually the ice is broken and they come together and Maya moves in with James. But this is not a happily ever after story. Both actors give highly accomplished. impasioned performances and are a joy to watch as they travel the emotional path of a testing romance that faces an array of challenges, tragedies and personal decisions that lead to deep-rooted questionings of their relationship. The remarkable chemistry that exists between them is exploited in heartfelt exchanges that test their characters' co-existence.The stark simplicity of the set keeps us focussed on the couple. The lone, white park bench provides seating on the station platform, a place from which to admire the views across London from Primrose HIll and Hampstead Heath and when draped in blue cloth a sofa for homely relaxation. Fuentes, Monaghan, Hewitt and Prentice along with the production team of associate artist, AD and co-producer Luis Hopkins and technician Alicia Quah have created a highly rewarding, no-frills gem of rock-solid theatre.

Shakespeare wrote that “Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.” Nor does it in Harry Reed’s succinct and focussed adaptation of the Bard’s great tragedy Horatio & Hamlet at Barons Court Theatre.Using the original text, Reed has brought these two characters together to tell the story in a concentrated production that focuses on Hamlet's ‘antic disposition’ and raises the age-old question as to whether Hamlet really is disturbed to the point of madness or whether his extraordinary behaviour is an outward show to further his ends; that he might say with Iago, “I am not what I am”, even to the point of deceiving his friend.Inevitably, Hamlet (Joseph Ryan-Hughes) dominates; after all, it's his tale. But Horatio (Alex Dean) is his student buddy and, lest we forget, he wears the Wittenberg University hoodie as a reminder; an inspired piece of costuming. To reinforce the roots of their friendship, Laura Mugford's set is Hamlet’s dilapidated student flat, two months after the funeral of Hamlet’s father. Without wishing to stretch a line too much Hamlet says to Horatio in Act V “Couch we awhile, and mark”, which is what they do. The couch is a central part of the set on which they share a bong under a blanket creating clouds of smoke. What they are smoking is unspecified, but their subsequent behaviour suggests it’s probably more than apple, as they energetically fool around and bait each other.All the great speeches are recited and some lines from other characters are given in particular to Horatio in order to help the story unfold. Dean plays second fiddle with subtlety, a subdued, facilitating role that contrasts with Ryan-Hughes’ wild outbursts. He gently teases out of Hamlet how he perceives the situation and as far as possible some explanations of his actions and his understanding of his actions.He clearly has a great deal of affection for Hamlet and is disturbed to see him in this condition playing the dear friend with kindness and sympathy. Ryan-Hughes, meanwhile, supplies all the eccentric behaviour and wild gaming to confirm suspicions of madness as he delivers the lines that reveal the inner workings of his mind. He also gives intelligent and meaningful delivery of the famous soliloquies, in particular, “To or not to be..” with emphases in all the right places.In directing his play, Reed does not shy away from modern devices that get around some awkward moments in delivering the full story. Ingeniously the performance of the Mousetrap by the strolling players is live-streamed to the tv in Hamlet’s flat. The deliberate anachronism perfectly fits the situation and forms part of the student-style existence the two guys share. The basement venue also adds to the mood of being housed in a dark old building where ghosts might indeed wander.With Hamlet dead in his arms Horatio has indeed fulfilled his promise to “speak to th’ yet unknowing world/ How these things came about.” And so the double act part ways and we too can leave this triumphant production. Like madness, this play should not go unwatched.

Is it a parable? If so, what is it trying to teach? Is it an allegory? If so what does each of the components represent and if it’s a metaphor, then for what? These elements always hover over Jez Butterworth’s The River at the Greenwich Theatre. Don’t expect answers, but do appreciate the literary quality of the writing.The characters have no names; they are simply people caught in a situation. The Man (Paul McGann) occupies a seasonal cabin by the river that as a child he stayed in with his uncle, who introduced him to the world of fly-fishing and told him stories about women he brought to stay. Now, as a man he has become like his uncle; obsessed with fish and females. He can catch and devour both, yet does so with a calm, meditative passion. He is inspired by poetry and vivid descriptions of sunsets, of which he has seen so many he feels he can ignore the one The Woman (Amanda Ryan) begs him to observe through the kitchen window. But he has to pack his basket for one of the greatest fishing nights of the year.So far so good. We have a lonely man finding comfort in the company of a woman to whom he professes love, while she appears content with his low-key approach to romance that nevertheless includes having sex. But then when she leaves the room it is The Other Woman (Kerri McLean) who returns and takes up where her predecessor left off. Do all the women in his life merge into one? Is his life on permanent replay and is his ultimate consolation only in the constancy of the seasons that bring the trout back every year?This is a subdued production with performances that are sincere and flow very gently within the realistically detailed cabin set by Emily Bestow, aided by mood lighting from Henry Slater and a delicate soundscape courtesy of Julian Starr.

After some years of setbacks, Caroline Burns Cooke took to the stage at Dundee Fringe with her new work, Gruoch: Lady Macbeth, written for her by David Calcutt. Shakespeare’s Lady Macbeth is rooted in the historically discredited Holinshed’s Chronicles, of 1587 and is largely a woman of fiction. Gruoch has many more facets to her than Shakespeare’s blood-stained woman although this impassioned production is perhaps equally speculative and imaginative.Gruoch’s background is complex and I’m indebted to Kate Braithwaite, writing in The History of Royal Women for unravelling her story.Gruoch hailed from Scottish nobility, being related to King Malcolm II. Her brother had a claim to the throne, but Malcolm intended his grandson, Duncan, to be his successor. She married Macbeth’s cousin, Gillacomgain, and they had a son, Lulach. Macbeth was the son of King Finlay who ruled the Kingdom of Murray. He had become King even though he had an older brother, one of whose two sons was Gillacomgain. These brothers assassinated their uncle and took the throne, while Macbeth fled the land. While absent Macbeth led an undercover operation that garnered support among disaffected subjects of Gillacomgain, and culminated in his return to Moray where he killed Gillacomgain and his supporters. The next turn of events sees Gruoch marry Macbeth, seemingly setting aside any loathing she might have felt towards him for murdering her husband. The move guaranteed her own safety and that of Lulach and provided a royal step-father for him, enhancing his claim to the throne of Moray in addition to that of Scotland. Meanwhile her brother had been murdered, probably by Malcolm II, in order to clear the way for Duncan’s succession, which occurred shortly after his father’s death at the battle fought against Macbeth at Glamis. In Duncan’s later invasion into Moray he too was killed, possibly by Macbeth. His death while a guest in Macbeth’s castle is a Shakesperian invention as is the idea that Macbeth had usurped the throne he recived by public acclamation He enjoyed a 17-year rule with Gruoch by his side, despite having no children of their own. In 1057 Macbeth abdicated in favour Lulach and Gruoch’s plan - if that’s what she had - came to fruition. Her joy was short-lived, however. Lulach was killed the following year in a battle against Malcolm’s forces. Lulach’s son was a child, but Macbeth took up arms against Malcolm to defend his right to the throne, but was defeated at Lumphanan in August 1058. Macbeth was buried in the royal cemetery on Iona, but there are no records of Gruoch’s last days.Intense physicality and emotional turmoil permeate Cooke’s performance that is full of the inner strength, tinged with an element of madness, that Gruoch must have possessed to endure her life. The historical record suggests a woman who proceeded calmly through life accepting her lot and behaving subserviently to the powerful men who surrounded her. Cooke, on other hand, explores what she imagines might have been hidden beneath the surface. She has a mantra of “Daughter, Good Wife, Crone” that sums up her life, the last word indicating her current condition as she gives way to anger, bitterness, resentment and vengeance. She describes the monodrama as “a feminist, myth-centred examination of the bereaved and abused girl who became Lady Macbeth as an act of revenge for the death of her father”. Hence her visceral performance of a woman who nevertheless had a degree of logic and rationality for her actions.

Juno Boyle (J. Smith-Cameron) has the famous line that underpins the pervading sense of despair beneath the comedy in Seán O’Casey's Juno and the Paycock at the Gielgud Theatre: ‘What can God do against the stupidity of men?'In a religiously obsessed country the Church, its clergy and the faith’s grip on the people are all pervading. It’s Dublin, 1922 and Ireland is in the midst of Civil War with families divided and the nation split over the independence settlement. No one can be neutral, but it’s the wives and mothers who must strive to make ends meet and keep families together. Smith-Cameron asserts herself throughout in the matriarchal manner of a woman who has endured and not been beaten down. Help from her husband Jack (Mark Rylance) would be welcome but she has married a drunken paycock (peacock) who struts around, or rather staggers, in the delusional world of having been a sea captain on the basis of a crossing to Liverpool. The play is billed as tragi-comdedy, but under the direction of Matthew Warchus comedy triumphs until tragic circumstances demand a change of mood in the last quarter of the play. Meanwhile Rylance assisted by Paul Hilton (‘Joxer’ Daly) indulge in scene after scene of Chaplinesque vaudeville-style entertainment, even down to the moustache. Hilton plays the foil to Rylance’s commanding and excessive indulgence in the humour. That, combined with the heavy accents, wears thin before it culminates.More of the tragedy and realism is borne by Aisling Kearns (Mary Boyle) and Eimhin Fitzgerald Doherty (Johnny Boyle); she pioneering the ideas of a new age and he bearing the physical and mental scars of the recent past. They along with the rest of the supporting cast get the tragedy/comedy balance right.Rob Howel's set is broodingly dark at the level of the tenement room and ominously blood-red in the upper levels of the outside world. Overhead is a small glistening cross, for religion hangs over everything.

There’s a wealth of research that shines through Placeholder, presented by Fronteiras Theatre Lab in association with the Colonial-Era Caribbean Theatre and Opera Network at Dundee Fringe. Written and performed by Catherine Bisset, with dramaturgy by Jaïrus Obayomi, choreography by Yamil Cuedo Herrera and directed by Flavia D’Avila, the team took on the challenge of creating a piece that, in D’Avila’s words, ‘would communicate scholarly work to a non-specialist audience but would also be enjoyable’. The company studied historical accounts of theatre and opera performances in Jamaica and the former French colony (1697 to 1804) of St Domingue (now mostly Haiti). In news sheets they found advertisements for runaway slaves next to those for shows. Those two worlds would intersect when wealthy slave owners who wished to attend the theatre sent a servant to reserve their seat; a placeholder who was dismissed once the patrons arrived.In the same period they discovered Minette, an opera singer and a placeholder whose story is elaborated in the play to become ‘a metaphor for the Haitian Revolution’. She is a free woman, but Creole, and in the highly stratified colonial society of the day, that positioned her between the ruling whites and the enslaved blacks, belonging to neither and looked down upon by both. Discovering Minette meant there was an opportunity to redress the imbalance prevalent in the narrative of slavery by telling the story of a highly talented non-white person. Initially trained by her mother, Minette and her sister were discovered by Madame Acquaire, an influential actress and opera singer of the Comédie de Port-au-Prince who took up their tuition.Although a solo show, Bisset through her writing and performance vividly creates two characters steeped in the period, while also exploring the impact of the composer/conductor Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges, another biracial free man of colour. The dialogue between mother and daughter flows effortlessly and gracefully between the two, deploying appropriate accents and voices while providing insights into the age and the struggles of people against colonial occupation and making clear the enormous courage and determination required to stand up to tyranny and fight against the odds in the pursuit of recognition individually and collectively.Placeholder is a well-crafted, nuanced and moving work, tightly directed with focus on its central themes yet not afraid to deploy movement and dance as a further expression of the emotional content. It is a rare breath of fresh air in contemporary theatre that illustrates the wealth of under-used historical material that is out there waiting to be explored.

As might be expected in Jane William’s ambitious work, What the Thunder Said, there are some impressive sound effects of the heavens in torment. But in Eliot’s The Wasteland, around which play is formulated, it is the earthly turmoil of mortals that is explored along with the theatrical potential of different worlds colliding and a myriad of humans interacting.No one can pretend that Eliot makes for easy reading, replete as it is with academic allusions and literary and religious references, yet setting that aside there is much with which to identify personally. What Williams does is to relate the work to her own life, to see it as a source of dark humour that becomes an emotional release and a means of confronting the complexities of mental disarray. Hence she cleverly weaves the trials and tribulations of her own life into passages from Eliot’s poem that seem relevant to her condition and interprets it in a wider context.Her performance is a journey of heartfelt mental health experiences that change like the weather and can move with the seasons. As Eliot pointed out, April might be cruel, winter full of contradictions, just as the freezing snow keeps the earth beneath it warm and protected, and summer might be full of surprises. In the same way that there is no escape from those external forces, so the workings of the mind cannot be avoided, only accommodated. The high must be appreciated and the lows endured. Medicines can provide some relief but not a permanent solution. Temporary amelioration is always tinged with knowing that the storm clouds will again gather and that a sudden clap of mental thunder will destroy the mind's stability.Williams was assisted in creating What the Thunder Said by dramaturg Di Sherlock who helped to weave the worlds together through text and sound. Working collaboratively, with openness and honesty, they created an intriguing juxtaposition of Williams' own life with Eliot’s controversial poem, which he completed while recovering from a nervous breakdown. Together they have drawn attention to the lack of fulfilment and meaning people can experience, combined with a feeling of entrapment in a routine mechanical world, like that of The Typist in the Fire Sermon. There is no certainty of a way out of such a life but there is hope during times of respite that Shantih, the peace that passes understanding, might be achieved or perhaps just be glimpsed at, even if through a pair of yellow sunglasses.

The Almeida’s Angry and Young season has opened with John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger that heralded the mid 1950s revolution in drama and gave birth to the Angry Young Man genre. And anger dominates this play, personified in the character of Jimmy Porter. Billy Howle is unrelenting and constantly energised in his powerful portrayal of this destructive emotion. Was Jimmy just born with a chip on his shoulder or was it the childhood experience of sitting on his father’s deathbed that set him against the world? As he says, “You see, I learnt at an early age what it was to be angry – angry and helpless. And I can never forget it.”  Social injustice has not helped nor the humility of an educated albeit working calss man running a market sweet stall and the disapproval of his wife’s well-to-do and moneyed family. But it hardly explains the extent of his rage nor the venomous abuse he hurls at the woman he married.Alison Porter (Ellora Torchia) has learned to listen to and largely ignore her husband's rants as has their lodger, Jimmy’s friend, Cliff Lewis (Iwan Davies), who has an affectionate relationship with Alison that Jimmy strangely consents to. Davies successfully plays this awkward role of wanting to remain faithful to both parties, remaining silent for long periods as the tension builds up but also feeling the need to interject and at times console when the situation becomes more heated than usual.Torchia conveys Alison’s sense of being reconciled to her lot in life, but increasingly shows that no one can be expected to suffer Jimmy’s vituperative outbursts indefinitely. When her actress friend Helena Charles (Morfydd Clark) arrives to stay, matters are brought to a head. Clark turns on all the poshness that Jimmy despises and Helena too becomes the subject of his aggression. She takes matters into her own hands and summons Colonel Redfern (Deka Walmsley) to take his daughter Alison away. Walmsley personifies the bygone age Jimmy so despises, but shows the Colonel to be a well-meaning and sympathetic parent. The plot goes through various twists thereafter raising questions about the attraction people have towards loathsome individuals.The play’s revival is intended to be ‘angled towards 2024’ which comes across in the modern style of direction deployed by Atri Banerjee and the contribution of the other creatives: set by Naomi Dawson, lighting by Lee Curran and sound by Peter Rice. The sunken drum at the centre of the revolve provides an open pit which Jimmy symbolically gazes into.But Look Back in Anger remains entrenched in the period even if we can see now how it examines themes that have become the subject of so much more modern drama.

Humour is a funny thing and while I have a reputation for not doing comedy, many things amuse me and some even make me laugh out loud. Ortonesque black comedy is at the top of my list along with anything that uses quick-fire wit and repartee. That probably explains why I chortled my way through He’s Not Gay, He’s Just My Brother! starting with the ridiculous non sequitur in the title that still makes me chuckle.This triumphant production from Not so Nice! Theatre Company founded in 2020 by Matthew Attwood and Grace Baker is the work of a tightly knit team. Playwright Ryan Lithgow’s two-hander features the gay Peter (Will Evans) and his not gay brother Ross (Michael Tominey). The circumstances behind that distinction are explained in the play. Both characters are vividly drawn, with an endearing humanity that makes you want to become their friends and participate in all the abundance of brotherly frolics that litter the show.Evans and Tominey play off each other so well that they might easily be brothers in real life. They certainly give the impression of having performed together for a long time and yet that is also not the case; they had never met till casting and rehearsals. They contrast and complement each other perfectly. The fluidity and the inherent demands of pace found in Lithgow’s script are gold in their hands. Their timing is spot on, using changes of tempo and pauses to maximum effect. Frantic exchanges are contrasted with calm reflection and Eleanor Tate, making her outstanding directorial debut, has imaginatively used the confines of this Dundee Fringe venue to heighten the intimacy of the action in scenes that demand focussed conversation and space to explore movement opportunities in the more riotous scenes.The plot is a delightful ‘when things go wrong’ story. Peter is preparing for what he believes will be the happiest day of his life. He’s to marry his boyfriend, but a clap of thunder announces a torrential storm outside linked to the distant presence of the dreaded mother-in-law; a wicked witch undeterred by water. Her recurring presence at the other end of the phone create some of the most hilarious exchanges in the play. Combined with her, the surprise arrival of his estranged brother, who wishes to add his two penn'orth to the fray, escalates Peter’s stress to the stratosphere.And that’s it; a fabulous 75 mins of captivating tragedy and comedy, of pathos and passion. But not quite. About two-thirds of the way through when we are settled into the rhythm of the action, Lithgow throws us a massive curveball; a moment of shock horror that takes our breath away and turns it into a tear-jerker.He’s Not Gay, He’s Just MyBrother! is an enthralling exploration of bonds and relationships, of discovering what brings us together rather than separates us and of learning that the things we have in common are stronger that anything that might divide us. It's also a reminder that you should never be afraid to say who you are or how you feel, because one day it might be too late.

In a gripping and hilarious show, Yorkshire storyteller Eden Ballantyne takes us back to the original versions of some of the most famous children’s stories and leaves us wondering what sort of world young people grew up in back in the early 19th century. Buckets Of Blood – Fairy Tales Not For Kids strips away the sanitisation that the writings of the Brothers Grimm have been subjected to over the last 200 years and delivers them in their startlingly raw first-edition form.Ballantyne is a consummate storyteller and could entertain on any subject, but here he revels in revealing the history and development of the Tales over time and in different cultures as well as delivering them in energetic performances the form the Brothers intended. Children in those days, it seems, were far less sheltered, protected and sensitive than their modern counterparts, or perhaps the realities of life at the time were so harsh that even a gruesome fairytale would fail to shock or cause distress.If we think modern versions of Little Red Riding Hood or Hansel and Gretel contain some awkward material then be prepared for the horrors of versions that wallow in mutilation, kidnapping, child abuse and cannibalism and were deemed entirely appropriate as material to induce a good night’s sleep. Excessive violence and gore are the norm in these works; the Tales are Grimm by name and grim by nature, but Ballantyne's renditions are a joy.His highly entertaining hour-long storytelling and fascinating history lesson includes reference to lesser-known Tales and explains some of the illogicalities that have crept into the familiar ones over the years. If you have ever wondered about the impracticality of a glass slipper, this is your chance to find out how it came about.

Alan Gottlieb (Chris Brannick) has spent forty years on the back row of the second violins, but changes are afoot that threaten everything that gives meaning to his life.The opening line augurs a good story: “Once upon a time there was a boy who loved music.” What follows is no fairy tale, but a selective biography of a man with unfulfilled childhood dreams. As he mimes playing the violin that has been his lifelong companion we learn that his ambition was to rise through the ranks and play in the grandest and most famous of international orchestras.His consolation comes with immersion in the world of J.S Bach and in particular the great B Minor Mass, a work he never tires of playing, not least because with Bach even the second violins achieve prominence, a status not afforded by other composers. Mentally, Gottlieb revels in the apotheosis of the man whose coming into the world for him assumes Messianic proportions. Playing Bach’s Mass is a transcendental experience in which he yearns for the Rapture when he will be at one with his musical saviour for eternity.Meanwhile there are more mundane matters to deal with. Karen Kirkup who introduced the story takes on a series of roles with a fine array of mannerisms and voices. The HR department is engaged in a Excellence in Action assessment of the orchestra which Alan is convinced favours all the youngsters and is not wrong in thinking that it will bring about his demise. He is also on the wrong side of the new conductor for whom he has nothing but contempt. Thus he descends into a downward spiral of depression His mental health perhaps merits further development and the adulation of Bach at times seems laboured but the play is refreshingly original, told with sincerity and performed with skill.

The Cubic Theatre inside the London Transport Museum, Covent Garden, provides the most fitting venue for Natural Theatre Company’s The Truth About Harry Beck, which commemorates the fiftieth anniversary of the man who designed what is possibly the world’s most famous and most used map, that is not a map but a diagram, as Harry Beck spent a great deal of time telling people.Written and directed by Andy Burden, the play is a straightforward narrative of Harry’s life with a functional set by Sue Condie that serves as his office, his London residences and retirement home in the country. Ashley Christmas portrays his wife, Nora, and the various characters who impacted Beck’s life. Woven into the story are direct addresses and moments of audience participation that give it a slight immersive edge.Christmas and Simon Snashall as Harry Beck give solid performances as the very ordinary working class couple whose lives became enveloped by Harry’s obsession. The first Tube map consisted of the various routes drawn onto a standard London road map. As a technical draughtsman Beck was accustomed to working on diagrams of circuits; simple straight lines that showed the layout and connecting points.That’s where the idea came from to convert the existing cramped, higgledy-piggledy map into a clear diagram.They portray how their simple lives were overtaken by this project, for which he received scant reward, having signed away any rights to ownership; how he lived and breathed the task of perfecting the diagram while she worked around him trying to bring some sense of matrimonial normality to their childless lives.The play gives an interesting insight into the story of the ‘map’. It's also a warning of how people’s passions can end up ruling their lives and the need to realise when the time comes to let go and call it a day.

There is an enduring theatrical interest in witch trials. They offer interesting characters, a strong storyline, acts of betrayal and another chapter in the ongoing dominance of men over women. Menstrual Rage Theatre found inspiration for HELLCATS on their doorstep in the The Newcastle Witch Trials that took place from 1649 to 1650 and resulted in the execution of a man and 15 women.The company has created numerous fictional characters to populate their story while using as a stimulus recorded events of the period. As might be expected from a feminist company, and quite rightly, the victimisation of women is high on the agenda. Allocating blame for natural phenomena and scapegoating are popular pastimes when crop failures occur and there is a local woman well-known for making potions. It’s easy for people to forget the good her tonics might have done and turn the tables on her and by association drag her friends and family into the circle of the accused. Events in our own time are also explored within this context, reminding us that our fascination with conspiracy theories is an historical tradition rather than a modern invention.This strong ensemble deftly deploys physicality in scenes that range from the romantic to the tragic and from the playful to the sinister. There is no shortage of comedy to lighten the misogyny of the witch-hungter's antics and whose presence in the village means that no one is safe. A neighbour with a grievance has only to whisper an entirely false suspicion in his ear to seek revenge. Accusations are easy to make; proving your innocence almost impossible and the hangman's noose centre-stage is an ever-present reminder of the consequences of being found guilty. There's a lot of stylised and over-the-top action and the use of ever-present corn dollies could be better woven into the storyline, but this is a company full of theatrical ingenuity.

Alan Ayckbourn’s Snake in the Grass gives an opening impression of a potentially genteel tale concerning reunion of two sisters in the garden of their late father’s country house, complete with tennis courts, a summer house and the very important well, of which only the covered hole is evidence.The script makes many demands on the set and director Andrew Panton and designer Jen McGinley have created a stunning and realistic scene that lives up to all expectations. Further enhanced by mood lighting from Derek Anderson and sound from composer/designer Niroshini Thambar all the elements are there for the plot to unfold, which it does very quickly.Annabell Chester (Deirdre Davis) left the family home decades ago for a life in Tasmania. Her sister Miriam (Emily Winter) remained and has had an unfilled life with their demanding father, who rather mysteriously, in a late change to his will, left everything to Annabell. Memories, many of them unpleasant, clearly fill her head, already befuddled with jet lag, as Alice Moody (Ann Louise Ross) suddenly appears from behind a trellis. She was a nurse to the sisters’ late father and wastes no time in saying that Miriam was involved in their father’s death; that he had expressed concern about Miriam's actions and that she has a letter written by him to prove it. She demands £10,000 or she will go to the police with the evidence and Miriam will end up in jail. As a friend once said, “Where there’s a will, there’s family.”In no time at all the atmosphere has changed dramatically. Now we have a possible murder in the family, a blackmail plot and revelations of paternal and matrimonial abuse from the two sisters. However this heavy material is treated with considerable humour by Ayckbourn. Some of it is laugh-out-loud, which the cast deliver with full strength, but they also know how to deal with self-deprecating humour and embrace the art of delivering venomous slurs and deploying wit. They are three very different yet delightfully drawn individuals whose chemistry ensures that they play well off each.Ample suspense combine with startling twists and turns in the story and supernatural elements that with sounds and voices keep us on edge. It's a classic thriller and this production is an excellent opportunity to see how it should be staged.

The Dundee Fringe provides the perfect context for Maybe This Time, a story of love, frustration and delusion rooted in the city.A chance meeting in a local karaoke bar, where we hear perhaps too many many attempts at the art form, kicks off the boy-meets-girl scenario, strengthened by a further speed-dating encounter that leads to a relationship between them in which actors Benjamin Asensio and Rebecca Ross capture the joys and difficulties of making your feelings known. She is able to express her what's within her and is manifestly enamoured of the guy who probably feels the same about her but just cannot bring himself to utter the words, “I love you.” What’s wrong with him? Something is clearly lurking in his background and when he blurts it out in an argument it’s a relief all round, but the issues it has caused for him are never explored; a note for Asensio who also directed the piece.They relate their predicaments to their respective best friends played by Emily Powell and Scott Duncan, receiving some consolation and tactical advice in return. For the lads, this is mediated largely through Duncan’s character's obsessive immersion in films such as Titanic, Die Hard and The Notebook through which he interprets life. Perhaps another missed opportunity here to deal more fully with mental health issues. Overall, it’s a high-energy production that bodes well as a first outing for Cor’ Blimey Theatre. There’s a well-executed fight scene and the show is not short on comedy, even if not all lines land as well as others. It’s a classic Fringe piece; in need of some refinement but a sound example of the potential of the next generation of theatre-makers.

The Almeida’s Angry and Young season has opened with two seminal works from the dramatic revolution of the late 1950s: Arnold Wesker’s Roots and John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger. Initiating what became known as the ‘kitchen sink’ genre, it is Roots that most faithfully portrays the kitchen as the heart of the home and the prison of women. Beatie Bryant, simply yet passionately played by Morfydd Clark, returns to her home in Norfolk after three years in London where she met and fell in love with Ronnie and encountered a world remote from anything she had ever experienced. The big city was a challenge to her rural lifestyle, but it was Ronnie’s radical socialism and attacks on the norms of the day that opened her mind to a new reality, even if she had difficulty in understanding much of it for her lack of education. She tries to spread the message of a post-war Utopia to her family and in particular her mother, repeatedly predicating her sentences with, “Ronnie says…” in a blend of indoctrination and infatuation. Meanwhile, listening patiently in her own world, Sophie Stanton staunchly captures the rustic stoicism of Mrs Bryant, who manages to stretch her husband's limited wage to ensure the family has food and clothes.Wesker captures the clash of these two worlds. The mundane conversations and banalities of life that were the stuff of isolated working class families, where mothers really did know the bus timetables by heart, look out of the kitchen window and make conversation about of the late running of the 1030. Class divides were rampant yet the lower echelons repeatedly elected Conservative governments who kept them in their place. Mostly they were content because that’s what they had grown up in and been taught to accept. Hence Beatie proclaims, “The whole stinkin' commercial world insults us and we don't care a damn. Well Ronnie's right – it's our own bloody fault. We want the third-rate – we got it!”She was always going to be fighting a losing battle. Yet, as she preaches in pools of light used only for her orations, an ingenious part of Lee Curran’s lighting design, she grows in her own understanding and increases in confidence until in a frenzy of exultation to the accompaniment of Bizet L’Arlésienne, she realises she can speak for herself and we are treated to the hope of salvation and redemption.Director Diyan Zora makes maximum use of the double revolve, to move Naomi Dawson’s realistically practical set back and forth and with a strong supporting cast the play provides a window into a bygone age that many of us grew up in.

Marketing a show as a thriller often raises hopes that are not met. That is not the case with I Did Something I Shouldn’t Have… from PJGProductions at theSpace on the Mile.Paul-James Green has written a high-stakes drama that starts with a chilling conversation between Will (Richard Michell) and his voice-over counsellor/therapist. He’s shaking, tearful and frightened as he is haunted by the abuse he suffered as an eight-year-old boy. The image of him as an emotional wreck lingers, but the mood is lightened as the next scene opens in his home and the everyday banter between his older sibling, Harrison (PJ Green), who fulfils the role of a carer, and his younger brother, the 16-year-old Sean (Orlando Campolucci-Bordi). Their mother is dead but their estranged father soon becomes the main focus of the story. There is an air of teenage normality for a while. Sean spends time with his school chum Max (Joseph Bigley) and is assisted by Harrison in sorting out the family tree homework exercise. However, the straightforward task soon turns sour. The situation escalates with the entrance of Will and the mood darkens. Tensions rise when Sean decides he wants to know about his father. But there is a reason he’s never been told about him, and there are secrets known to Harrison and Will they would rather Sean knew nothing about. But Sean is determined to find his father, Vince (Gary Simpson), and get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding him. Thereafter, the roller coaster commences. The tension rises and suspense sets in. I cannot recall ever feeling threatened by a character on stage or filled with an urge to escape from a situation, but Simpson plays the dangerous brute of a father terrifyingly. His presence places everyone on edge and fearful for their safety. We begin to wonder what might happen next as more of his criminality and his psychologically disturbed condition is exposed. Everyone in the family is differently involved in the situation, and each cast member has a unique response, enhancing his success in portraying a credible individual.There are further twists and turns in the story as events speed up along with our heartbeats and the plot of this edge-of-the-seat hair raiser becomes more intricate. We await the denouement with bated breath, and the resolution comes with a huge sigh of relief.This Fringe version of I Did Something I Shouldn’t Have… is edited from the original two-hour drama and probably still needs some attention in places, but it's a gripping thriller that will leave you shaking for some time.

The Archdiocese of Glasgow Arts Project (AGAP) was founded in 2006 to engage people of all backgrounds through faith-inspired arts events and activities often through dramatic productions. This year’s contribution to the Fringe is Gaudí: God’s Architect at C Arts Aurora.A deeply religious man, variously seen as a genius, a madman or a saint, Gaudí met an undignified death at the age of 73 in 1926. While taking his daily walk to the church of Sant Felip Neri for prayer and confession he was struck by a number 30 tram. As usual he was dressed in his ragged old clothes and was asking people for money to provide funds for the construction of his most famous work, the Sagrada Familia. Those who witnessed the event assumed he was a beggar. Unconscious, he was eventually taken to the Santa Creu Hospital, but received only basic care. It was not until the following day that his identity was revealed, by which time he had gone into terminal decline. Two days later some 5000 people lines the streets of Barcelona for his funeral.AGAP’s multi-media play opens with this event accompanied by black and white period footage of a tram and related sounds. The classic flashback is then used to tell the story of his life chronologically, before ending with the same scene. It makes for a neatly packaged if predictable play.The cast features writer/director Stephen Callaghan, Jacqueline Glencorse and Russell Wheeler, They take on multiple roles and are appropriately dressed in period costumes, the men’s waistcoats being in the same dazzling harlequin cheques as the tiered boxes that form much of the set.Gaudí: God’s Architect features sincere storytelling and if the subject is of interest the play provides a straightforward biography of the man.

The exposed brick of a top-floor cavern at Underbelly Cowgate is the ideal setting for actor/writer Joe Mallalieu’s premiere of Rum, a solo play rooted in his experience of growing up in a working class family of three generations in the building trade, where the boys were born with a trowel in their hands.Danny has to urgently finish off some plastering before the wealthy customer returns. His mate should have done it yesterday, but instead scarpered off leaving holes in the wall. Bags of plaster litter the stage, along with his tool box, trowel, motorised paddle mixer and tub, all showing the signs of use, with hardened splatterings of plaster all over them. He also has to write a speech for a very special occasion today; not something he’s done before or is any good at, but it’s really important and adds to his stress. A can of beer and a line of coke relieves some of his tension, as does the next one.He’s one of the rum lads; the guys who work on building sites and tell stories full of bravado, of night-time escapades, of shagging and drinking and narrowly dodging the law; of having no care for the consequences of their actions and behaving larger than life. They are great storytellers with plenty to draw on and an ability to heighten the tragedies and comedies with a little ego-boosting embellishment.But the banter tends to be superficial. Danny might have all the tools of his trade but he’s lacking the tools to deal with emotional situations and his mental well-being. Besides, men don't talk about those sorts of things; they keep their feelings to themselves; they put on a brave face and maintain the stiff upper lip of masculinity because there’s a stigma attached to showing any signs of vulnerability.As the clock ticks and the big event draws closer we are drawn deeper and deeper into the raw recesses of Danny’s mind, where childhood memories lurk and his inability to deal with what he has to confront festers. Nothing and no one has prepared him for this and the abyss of male culture offers only a void to stare into.Mallalieu's storytelling is captivating and impassioned. His naturally rich Southport/Bramhall accent has a down-to-earth ring. There’s nothing fake or put on here. He was a plasterer long before he was an actor and he knows the people he’s talking about and their lives. Danny says, “If the prep’s done well, the plaster goes on well. If things are done right at the start, things go easier later on.” Along with Tess Seddon’s tight direction all the prep makes for a smooth finish, a highly polished performance and a deeply moving story.Rum is more than one man’s story. It’s a plea for men to open up, to educate their sons differently and to start tackling the crisis in male mental health. Fitting then that Max Emmerson Productions is partnered with Andy’s Man Club, a men’s suicide prevention charity who offer free to attend peer-to-peer support groups for men aged over 18.

Once in a blue moon you take a punt on a show at 11pm and to your surprise, you find pure gold. Last night was in fact a blue moon and Chris Sainton-Clarks’ Tales from a British Country Pub at theSpace @ Surgeons' Hall is nothing short of pure nectar.Stainton-Clark fills the space with that rare quality found only when an artist is on the precipice of great success. His is a charming, well-crafted, intelligent and hilarious performer who captivates his audience and carry us along with him. In return he receives spontaneous outburst of sing-along and clapping.His tales are told in a string of ten or so songs. He's the lyricist, composer and performer. Each song features one or more of the various characters he‘s encountered working in pubs, from his locals in his home county of Norfolk to places further afield. With guitar in hand and clearly enjoying himself, he tells of his troublesome and hilarious experiences. There are compulsive liars, disruptive youths, clinical oversharers, fruit machine addicts and many more. The genres range from comedy rap to country folk which he applies to his refreshingly honest observations of toxic masculinity, first love, conversational blinders, male bonding the British drinking culture and teenage angst.Each song takes a satirical and scathing outlook at British pub culture. It's all very light-heatred and amusing with the added joy of hearing about very recognisable characters, some of whom you've almost certainly encountered when you've popped out for a pint. You might even meet yourself!It's a fun ending to day at the Fringe or prelude to a long night out. Catch it while you can. Shows like this come around once in a blue moon.

History can do strange things to a person’s reputation, and Sarah 'Sallie' Lockwood Winchester (née Pardee,1839-1922) has probably not fared too well in those stakes. GreenHouse Theatre Project’s Winchester by Elizabeth Braaten Palmieri at Paradise in Augustines succinctly delves into her life, times and legacy in a beautifully presented period drama with elegant constumes by Sabrina Garcia Rubio.She was born into a family that espoused liberal ideas and became well-educated. In 1862, she married her childhood friend William Wirt Winchester, the famous rifle and shotgun manufacturer. In 1881, following his untimely death and that of her mother-in-law, she inherited his fortune.But the rifle that brought her riches also gave rise to menacing guilt and grief over the lives it took. A psychic told her to build a house in order to appease the dead and save her soul. She immersed herself in the study of architecture and design and the management of real estate as she embarked on constructing the villa, now known as the Winchester Mystery House; a lavishly decorated and quirky building of over 1800 square metres, twenty rooms, marble floors, doors that open onto walls, corridors that are dead ends and staircases that lead nowherePalmieri, dressed in funeral black complete with mantilla, plays Sallie Winchester with Anna Sundberg, Ian Sobule and Alex Hoge taking on various other roles. Archive material makes it clear that Sallie was renowned for her intelligence, kindness and keen financial management. She was not thought to be superstitious, but posthumously she has been seen as guilt-ridden, mad with grief, and ultimately delirious and Palmieri combines these facets in her performance along with the eccentricity of a demanding woman who mercilessly dealt with architects and designers. There are moments of humour but we also see a woman who suffered from the deaths of many people close to her.The story is fascinating, the production precise and the performances elegant, but it remains a drama from which one remains detached, a distant observer of another world.

Meade Conway discovered that the school he attended was involved in one of the Ireland's many school scandals. Viewing the subject through the eyes of three people working in an all boys school, A Silent Scandal, directed by Sally Hennessy, is at Greenside @ George Street.The scandal itself remains vague. It’s hinted at but the details are never revealed, It leaving room for imaginative musings as to what really happened. This gives the play a sense of universality; it’s not just about a specific incident, but rather the workings of a system that allows for cover-ups, while exploring the reasoning and motivations of the people involved, the manner in which they can get away with wrongdoing through the exercise of power and the threats they use to safeguard their own positions. The characters can be seen as symbols of the key roles that emerge when any scandal is unearthed. Hence we have the one who is the perpetrator, the one who is complicit and the one who is the antagonist.In the hierarchy of this well-ordered school the newly appointed Ms Turley (Senna O’Hara) is on the bottom rung. Initially not intimidated by rank, she either doesn’t realise that her place is to keep quiet, obey instructions and get on with her job, or is a deliberate trouble-maker. She increasingly has grounds for raising concerns about the student at the cenrte of the scandal, not least because her own son attends the school. The Head (Eoghan Quinn), knows that any revelations would be the end of him, so tries hard to quash her interference until he manages to turn the tables on her and she too becomes a victim of his bullying. Between the two is the egotistical Mr O’Toole (Ben Carolan): a slimy jobsworth who sycophantically sucks up to head in order to safeguard his own position. He clearly knows that things are not right but lacks the moral fibre to support Ms Turley.The play moves slowly at first as O’Hara and Carolan establish their characters and the strained relationship between them. Then, as the scandal becomes the focus of attention, a new energy is released and it becomes an intense, claustrophobic drama with three strongly drawn characters that evoke feelings of sorrow, loathing and disgust.Anyone who has worked in an office, a school or hospital, or anywhere that has an entrenched power structure will recognise how such institutions are run and identify with these characters.

It’s sixty years since Joe Orton’s The Ruffian on the Stair, was broadcast as a radio play and now his unmistakable style is brought to life by Edinburgh Graduate Theatre Group, (EGTG) at the The Royal Scots Club.Mike (Trevor Lord) and Joyce (Lois Williams) live together, unmarried, in a basic London flat, He describes himself as "derelict", though he looks quite smart. He’s a Roman Catholic, ex-boxer from Donegal who claims the dole while running people down for cash using his white van. Joyce is from London, an ex-prostitute and a Protestant. She spends her days at home, alone.One day there is a knock at the door. She opens it to find Wilson (Ollie Hiemann), a very attractive, very cocky young man she’s never seen before. He says he’s come about the room. There is no room. But by now he’s inside and taking control of the situation as Joyce becomes increasingly anxious in the face of threats. When he asks the whereabouts of Mike’s gun the tension is further raised. Then he decides to leave, having done no harm. Joyce relates the story to Mike who thinks she is over-reacting, but the lad returns, meets Mike and so a series of events unfold into the classic Orton black comedy full of sexual undertones, irreverence for social norms and contempt for death.There are fine performances all round. Williams captures the victimhood of a woman largely ignored and put down by Mike and abused by Wilson. Lord puts on a convincing Irish accent and knows exactly how to deliver Orton's outrageous comments with dead-pan sincerity, often fed by Joyce:Joyce: Have you got an appointment today?Mike: Yes, I'm to be at King’s Cross station at eleven. I'm meeting a man in the toilet.Joyce: You always go to such interesting places.With that clue, our suspicions about Mike are raised as soon as his lascivious eyes are set on Wilson. Together they perform an edgy scene on the sofa with Hiemann brilliantly playing the seducer with suggestive moves and alluring vocal tones. He is made for the part and many others that Orton created. Coincidentally, his birthday this week is on the same date as Orton’s death, and as an Edinburgh lad he does a convincing London accent.There is confident direction from Robert Wylie, who delivers black comedy production that reaches the heart of Orton’s style.

Three Edinburgh characters weave in and out of each other’s lives in Mark Hannah’s Athens of the North, premiering at the Hibernian Supporters Club, A play that confronts the ways in which areas are rapidly becoming commodified and gentrified, something of vital concern to people in the Club's surrounding neighbourhood of Leith.Fraser Scott directs the playwright’s solo performance in this stream of consciousness work set in the capital city over the course of a single day. With scenes from the past and present our characters reflect on what their home means to them while also looking to the future. Hannah vividly and energetically creates the three people. Alan’s a father who works all hours driving and delivering, but will he make it to his daughter’s big day in St Gile’s Cathedral. If you want to know what he sounds like, here’s a taster: "Edinburgh’s a village, eh. Villages’ dinny normally huv castles, palaces and parliaments though. But we do. And in villages, everybody kens everybody. Whether ye like it or no." All spoken by Hannah in the richest of local accents; a real joy to hear. Changing rapidly to a voice from around London he creates Liam, who has landed in Auld Reekie following a holiday romance. But has he made the right decision? As for Maureen’s, well she’s not what she was and her mind doesn’t function as it did in the old days. But what impact will the visitor who takes her for a walk have on her?Each has several scenes that are carefully interwoven into an episodic love-letter to Edinburgh; fond reminiscences of good times balanced by as many struggles; difficulties that had to be overcome and the people who created these moments. “Everything we were, everything we are, aun everything we’ve yet tae become”Hannah is an accomplished storyteller and performer whose talents shine through in this work. In the words of the Director, “The play feels like a night at the pub in all the best ways” and goes down very well with a wee dram.

James Barry was born Margaret Anne Bulkley, but she fooled the world in order to become a doctor in the British army, which in the very early nineteenth century was an unthinkable and prohibited career for a woman. The Edinburgh Graduate Theatre Group (EGTG) presents her story in the premiere of A Singular Deception by Hilary Spiers, who also directs, at The Royal Scots Club.She graduated in medicine from the University of Edinburgh in 1812 and went on to achieve the highest medical rank in a career that spanned nearly 50 years and that is related by Jac Wheble in a highly confident and commanding performance that has all the egotistical no-nonsense dynamism for which the doctor was renowned. She is joined by Kenneth Brangman who gives a suitably humble and at times sarcastic performance as Black John, her devoted lifetime manservant and confidante, who safeguarded the secret of posing as a man. It's an intriguing relationship that Wheble and Brangman explore in all its diversity.With a versatile set by Richard Spiers of simple furniture that adapts to make a bed, a table, the bows of a ship and even a horse, we romp around the world as the doctor becomes a pioneer of reforming medicine with musical accompaniment from Flora Henderon. If anything there is perhaps too much detail, with example after example heaped upon country after country, until the story begins to tire.Nevertheless, it makes for an enjoyable and highly informative evening’s entertainment.

Writer/performer Elena Mazzon presents an unusual piece of theatre in The Popess: Instructions for Freedom, directed by Colin Watkeys at The Carbon Lounge as part of PBH’s Free Fringe.The upstairs room is relaxed and intimate with seating on built-in sofas against the walls with soft backless stools scattered in front of them. Mazzon weaves her way through the confined space to begin her often complex address.It’s Italy in the 13th century. Guglielma of Bohemia is preaching a feminised, apocalyptic version of Christianity which foretells her own resurrection as the incarnation of the Holy Spirit. Following her death around 1280 her burial site becomes a shrine. Her followers elect the nun, Maifreda da Pirovano as their leader, a female pope who celebrates the mass over Guglielma’s tomb.The Inquisition charges many of the Guglielmites with heresy. Guglielma’s bones are disinterred and burned, while three of her devotees, including Maifreda, are sent to the stake.Bringing the story of these two obscure women to light reminds us that feminism is far from being a modern cause. Women have strugglged throughout the ages and men, particularly in the form of the male-dominated Church, have always strived to suppress them.In a room full of strangers some might find it uncomfortable to be asked, “What are you looking for in faith or religion?” in an assumptive tone that suggests you subscribe to that view of life. Similarly being asked in an open forum, “Who or what would you die for?” tends to provoke a struggle to come up with the most worthy cause or closest person to you: “My sister”; “World peace”.This could be something of a Marmite show, but the sincerity and passion of Mazzon is beyond question.

For lovers of absurdist theatre, A Play by John at theSpace @ Surgeons’ Hall is not to be missed. The production comes courtesy of MULE, a theatre company made up of two actors, Marc Wadhwani and Jules Smekens, whose work in the last three years has included plays, short films, seven contemporary dance projects and a nomination at the Barcelona Choreoscope Festival.They take on the roles of Matteo and Reggie who are engaged in constructing coffins in preparation for taking their own lives. Hence, the stage is converted into a workshop, an enclosed space that heightens their isolation and the inescapability of their situation. One coffin, to the side, is finished and ready to take the taller of the two lads, who tries it for size. The second is still under construction, with much banging of nails and checking of measurements. Their conversations sound rational and sincere, yet couched, as they say, in ‘similar lingual tones to Beckett’s Godot and Pinter’s Dumb Waiter’. And why not draw on the masters of this form? That said, this is not a copying of anything by either of those playwrights, but rather an original piece cleverly rooted in the absurdist genre and performed with considerable skill.The impending doom is suspended as the action focuses on the preparations that have to be made for their demise. The language is light, conversational, at times interrogative and, of course, the subject matter is taken seriously and with earnest intent, harking towards black comedy. There are the all-important pauses and moments of bewilderment as the trivial takes on significance. But in the midst of this there are the underlying themes of identity and trust and authority and power against a backdrop of political turmoil and societal unrest in which it is becoming increasingly difficult to know what to believe.Will our characters complete their challenge and move on, or are they just trapped in A Play by John.

Reconnect Theatre’s Doped at the Hill Street Theatre is a fascinating and delightfully crazy study of the relationship between three guys that questions the nature of friendship, the bounds of loyalty and how far you can push people before they crack.Talking of which, it’s also a drug-fuelled 55-minutes of delightful Scottish patter, worth seeing if only to hear the richness of the broad accents and breadth of vocabulary. There are also fine performances in this play, co-written by Sam Stuart Fraser and Sean Fullwood. Adding to the talent is Director Pete Sneddon who says he wanted to create ‘a new, classic format of situational British comedy, in the style of Still Game or Bottom’. And it works. The story is simple. Faolan and Tinny share a pad, two characters well-crafted and contrasted by Kieran Lee-Hamilton and Sam Stuart Fraser respectively. Faolan is bright, went to university and has a job. Tinny is dim, finds words difficult and has a brain that ticks at the pace of a snail. They form a classic comic double-act and each knows how to play the role to maximum effect. Enter Buzz, played with a raging whirlwind of revolutionary energy by Xander Cowan. Although he abandoned alcohol as an undermining product of the establishment, his consumption of weed and LSD has led him into a world of demons and imaginary figures that only a revolution can wipe out. With all the passion of a firebrand preacher he proclaims his good news about overturning the system, believing himself to be the harbinger of Armageddon. In reality he is just a paranoid drug dealer whom Faolan sees through but Tinny falls for.On one of his zealous highs he lets it slip that all his money is stored in his dad’s garden shed. Is this an opportunity too good to miss for either of the boys? But what to do? By the end, each has had his own personal apocalypse and established relationships are turned on their head.Underpinning the play are much broader issues. As Sean Fullwood says, “Stoners are stereotyped and often dismissed members of society… Mental health problems and addiction are sky high. Homelessness is on the rise. Extremism is rising on every side.” Doped shines a comedic light on these issues and is a splendid piece of theatre.

Leah Coloff is an impressive musician. David Bowie, Iggy Pop, Debby Harry all thought so when she played with them and so did the judges who recently awarded her a Grammy, but her show, Super Second Rate, at theSpace@Surgeons’ Hall, tells another side of her story.Complete with cello, Coloff bursts into a frantic pizzicato introduction of repeated staccato statements proclaiming “I was. I am” and many more. After the initial frenzy the New Yorker, who was raised in the Pacific Northwest, launches into the story that merges her career with revelations about her family. Her father passed away in 2000 and the old hoarder's basement is now the focus of a major clear-out. Coloff casually accompanies the narration with appropriately matched sounds and music and even the occasional song in her fine soprano voice. Her words paint a picture of the cellar and no doubt strike a chord with many who have a similarly cluttered room in their homes. It’s a den of furniture, old lamps, a piano, suitcases, costumes, a slide projector and many other items that form the accumulated detritus of life. Her father kept drafts of the letters he sent; a memoir of his life as a cello teacher. One is about Leah addressed to her music teacher, which she reveals at the appropriate time in her chronologically structured show. It comes as a shock. Even though her relationship with her father was usually strained. He had put in writing that she did not have what it takes to be a professional musician; that the teacher was effectively wasting her time, as Leah would never come to anything. She's proved the old perfectionist wrong, however, going on to work with contemporary composers including Philip Glass, Ted Hearne, Joel Thome, Sean Friar and Michael Gordon. She says the implicit rules in her family were: “Play music! Be better than other people at music! But be humble, don’t act like you’re special! Just be better and special, but with humility!” “Super Second Rate,“ she says, “put that aside in favour of being yourself and doing what you want in the way you want to do it. That’s better!”She tells the amusing story of how the show got its name in a performance that has contrasting moments of hope and despair but is personal and unusual; presented both as an autobiography and a mini concert.

Writer and performer Ed Saunders-Lee presents the remarkable untold true story of his step-grandfather, Special Operations Executive (SOE) agent John Cox MC in the charming solo show, I Am Yours Sincerely, at theSpace Triplex.SOE was known as ‘Churchill’s Secret Army’ or ‘The Ministry of Ungentlemanly Warfare’ whose members conducted covert operations behind enemy lines. Cox, a member of the renowned Jedburgh team, parachuted into enemy territory to collaborate with local resistance groups, carrying out reconnaissance and espionage missions under the motto “Surprise, Kill, Vanish”.This compelling one-man play chronicles Cox’s journey from a university student to war hero, complete with daring escapades under the constant fear of being discovered. A contrasting parallel saga tells of how he found love in the midst of the dangers that surrounded him. The script incorporates Cox’s own words from interviews, memoirs, and letters he wrote during his service, which he always signing them off with the respectful line, ‘I am your sincerely.’Saunders-Lee, a recent graduate of the Guildford School of Acting, embarked on writing this piece as a tribute to his step-grandfather. He carried out extensive historical research with visits to museum exhibitions, exploration of the SOE archives and extensive background reading. It’s a highly informative memoir. Accuracy and attention to detail shine through the play, but it is the charm of his storytelling that makes this a moving and endearing production. He knows how to engage with his audience by deploying looks, a smile and even tears. His eyes penetrate and he breaks up the narrative with well-timed pauses and changes of mood and tempo along with sequences of movement and physicality.I Am Yours Sincerely is a fitting tribute to his brave relative and his comrades in SOE that is also filled with hope for a more peaceful future thanks to thier service and sacrifice.

Working Progress Collective is ‘a Midlands-born theatre company, making theatre for, by and with working class communities’. Sessions, written and directed by Sam Bates, at Zoo Playground, is a fine example of how that mix can make for topical, relevant and powerful theatre.The new government’s assessment of the situation they inherited, is that our prison system is in crisis, because the courts choose to incarcerate more offenders than can be accommodated in what are notoriously schools for criminals; rehabilitation is a more positive option.George (Adam Halcro) managed to avoid a custodial sentence. Instead he was given community service for his violent crimes, partly because he was only 17 at the time. Another condition of his sentence was to be placed under the supervision of a care worker for weekly counselling sessions.He turns up for his first session with David (Naytanael Benjamin) and the contrast between the two could not be more pronounced. George is hyper-active, aggressive and foul-mouthed. David has heard it all before. He sits calmly and listens to the tirade until a term of homophobic abuse slips out and he puts his foot down. George is surprised, but begins to realise that he’s not going to get it all his own way. As the sessions progress he becomes more relaxed and we learn of his troubled background, but also his talents as a footballer. We also discover that the otherwise seemingly untroubled David has demons of his own. They emerge gradually and a subtle change in the balance of power occurs.Halcro’s performance is packed with energy and anger. Some scenes feel violent but he is no threat and also engages in quieter more reflexive moments until his final magnificent outpouring of emotion, which leaves him shaking. Halcro treads a calmer path as befitting his role. He is softly spoken, compassionate and understanding as he calmly elicits responses from George. But he too has his moment when everything he has been bottling up finally has to be released.Session runs the gamut of modern social issues: homophobia, substance and sexual abuse, toxic masculinity, trauma and violence are all met head on, often with the offensive language that accompanies them. It is certainly a play for our day and makes a powerful case-study contribution to the debate about reforming young offenders, as early release programmes are announced. It’s a work of fiction rooted in contemporary reality.

Building an IKEA wardrobe is probably a challenge at any time. Doing it while a war rages around you adds yet another dimension to the task, but you can see how it’s done in DNA Studio's latest immersive show, RTFM (Read The F***ing Manual), at Greenside @ Riddles Court, directed by Dor Frenkel.Structurally the play is far simpler than the IKEA manual. Olivia (Helena Harrison) and David (Philip Honeywell) enlist the help and advice of numerous audience members throughout the show, making it immersive and participatory. It opens with people helping them arrange the flatpacks on the floor before the battle to open them up commences. Once the contents are revealed they too have to be arranged ready for the sequenced assemblage. David discovers the manual and immediately casts it aside, but Olivia reclaims it; his disregard for its advice is balanced by Olivia’s devotion to following it to the letter.She unearths the plastic bag of nails, screws and wooden plugs. She is compelled to place them in groups, count them out and then hand each of the different types to an audience member for safe-keeping until they are needed. Meanwhile, the wardrobe is taking shape under David’s expert eye and the big moment comes when the back has to be nailed on. Olivia gathers the nails, of which there are 47. One of the comic highlights ensues as everybody becomes involved in the debate about whether it’s really necessary to use all of them and if not how many can you get away with banging in to ensure the rigidity of the structure. Sweden might be a democratic country but extending its political philosophy to flat-pack construction is not a good idea.The serious side of RTFM comes as the construction process is interspersed with physical theatre and the cutting-edge 3D sound technology for which the company is renowned. The newscaster voice-over relates events and calls upon the population to stand firm and cooperate with each other in the face of the attacks. The enemy is no longer the flat-pack but the bombs raining down around them. Harrison and Honeywell leave the banter and laid-back comedy to become contorted figures symbolically portraying the agonies of war.Thus the themes of love, loss and resilience are merged and we realise that the act of building goes beyond furniture to life, relationships and community and that hope must always prevail.

It wasn’t just the toffs and millionaires who sought a cabin on board the Titanic’s maiden voyage; workers also vied for positions. Boiler Room Six: A Titanic Story premiering at Greenside @ George Street tells the story of one such man in a new and intimate perspective on the infamous tragedy.Frederick William Barrett, born 1883, was a wheelwright until he discovered his wife’s infidelity. Consequently, he abandons his home, serves on several ships as a stoker and is eventually hired as a lead stoker on the ill-fated ship and assigned to boiler room six.Tom Foreman’s play, which he also directs, with Natalia Izquierdo as Technical Director and Pip Pearce as Associate Director, starts with Barrett’s appearance in front of the board of inquiry into the disaster. Max Beken appears smartly dressed as he answers questions. He conveys the profound sense of responsibility Barrett had for his team and in particular the last-minute recruit who had lied about his age in order to get a job on board. He also illustrates the competence and experience of Barrett in handling the situation.We are soon transported to the bowels of the vessel to witness the terrifying moment when the ship scrapes along the side of the iceberg. Beken’s highly animated physicality vividly draws us into the ensuing crisis, heightened by powerful lighting and sound effects. Red lights flash, bells ring and the command to stop the engines is given. He shouts orders to shut the dampers, that will close the furnaces just before the water starts to pour in. With the option to stay and battle on or go up on deck, Barrett chooses to follow procedures until no more can be done and the only move left is to head to the lifeboats, where he takes charge of No 13 and successfully steers the overloaded vessel’s passengers to safety before being picked up by RMS Carpathia.With the events over, the play rounds off neatly with a return to the Inquiry, Beken also having delivered some emotional moments as Barrett laments having torn up the letter he received from his estranged wife and struggles with the idea of a reconciliation.The play and Bekens performance is a fitting tribute not just to Barrett but to the sacrifice of those men who put the lives of others before their own and in so doing saved many.

Chicago-based American actor and writer Esho Rasho is the child of an Assyrian-Iraqi refugee and an Assyrian-Lebanese immigrant, both of whom are war survivors. In the intersectional narrative of his well-crafted solo show he points out that life is problematic.Dummy in Diaspora is an autobiographical story of a queer boy growing up in the USA, whose family’s culture was at odds with the lifestyle and values of their newly adopted country. Although it’s about him and replete with specifics in his life, the themes and issues he deals with extend to many people in similar circumstances and those who have experienced any form of alienation, disassociation or striving for acceptance and an understanding of their world.Rasho thinks of his writing as existing ‘at the intersection of poetic realism and comedy, often weaving the two together’. Certainly this comes across in the telling of humorous stories of situations and people that are frequently heightened by a simple rhyming of words or a sentence that goes beyond prose in its refinement. He also has some delightful expressions. He is most proud of “vinegar-filled”, a term he developed as a substitute for a favourite, if overused word, that was less socially acceptable.Growing up he never heard stories in which he felt represented, despite the universality of exploring your world, searching for your self and claiming your identity. He knew there must be other queer men in a similar situation, so decided to tell his story. In a largely chronological journey we meet his family and friends, for whom he has distinctive accents and voices. We navigate the path of realising and proclaiming his sexuality, with each age bringing new experiences, not least the wild time in the famous BOTOX club in Milan. Youth begins to fade but the nicotine demon, amusingly personified as a puppet, won't leave him alone.Rasho is an accomplished storyteller, proud to lay his life bare so that others might identify with his experiences. Told with manifest honesty, the highs and lows are related in a gentle, warm and endearing manner that reaches to the hearts of his listeners.

Attending the world premiere of My English Persian Kitchen at The Traverse Theatre is a real treat. Not only do you see a beautifully performed piece of life-affirming theatre, you also watch a live cookery demonstration that culminates in sampling the food.Isabella Nefar stars in this show, produced in conjunction with the Soho Theatre, written by Hannah Khalil and directed by Chris White, that’s filled with the mouth-watering flavours of Iran and fascinating insights into its people, some of which might surprise. “85% of Iranian women are well-educated. Of course we don’t cook. We work. We are professionals. As successful as the men,” says Nefar, while chopping vegetables for the pot.The spacious auditorium soon fills with fragrances from Atoosa Sepehr’s recipe for Ash-E Reshteh whose true story is contained in her best-selling cookery book that inspired the play. The tiered seating allows us to look down on the preparations of this hearty Persian noodle soup with fresh herbs and legumes, and the warm, dim lighting adds a mood of mystery as the secrets of the dish are revealed.There is also a narrative interwoven with the practicalities of cooking. Forced to flee Iran, with no hope of ever returning home, our heroine finds herself in the unfamiliar surroundings of London. Longing for the tastes and aromas of her mother’s kitchen, she starts to lovingly recreate the dishes of her childhood and homeland, and in so doing gathers a new community around herself, attracted by the aromas of her cooking. Soon she has a new recipe for life, a new community and a new identity with a sense of belonging at its heart. Food will always bring people together and break down borders.Performed with passion, sensitivity and humour combined with movement sequences that portray some difficult times, My English Persian Kitchen has all the ingredients that make for a delightful theatrical experience.

Whatever the mention of Woodstock conjures up in your mind it's probably represented in this ‘99-inspired show by Tom Foreman Productions, written, directed and produced by Tom Foreman. Premiering at Underbelly Cowgate it celebrates the event’s 25th anniversary in a high-energy solo performance by Max Beken.Approximately 220,000 young music lovers swarmed to the Griffiss Air Force Base in Rome, New York, over four days in July, 1999. Some were probably not so young, if they were hoping to relive the thrill of attending the original festival thirty years earlier. But the site quickly transformed from a paradise of pleasure steeped in peace and love to a mire of mayhem and misogyny as assaults, riots and arson swamped the event.Hence, Foreman is not short of material to weave into Out of Woodstock; one man’s substance-fuelled odyssey. It gives Beken ample room to capture the high and lows of the event. Already dealing with a break-up from his girlfriend, Guy is encumbered by his parents making him responsible for the safety of his under-age sister. Allowing her to attend was a mistake from the outset and goes badly wrong, leading to frantic phone calls with the family, riddled with emotional stress, guilt and acrimony.The electronic music pumps out before Beken makes his entrance. Archival recordings of the live acts are interspersed throughout the narrative. There's much excitement about Limp Bizkit; he and his mates are big fans, but it’s not long before the drug-fuelled frenzies and camping out strain even long-term friendships that neither Jamiroquai, Metallica, nor any of the others can heal. Meanwhile, Singer Dave Matthews comments on the “abundance of titties” which the lads are also enjoying. While some girls no doubt revelled in getting ‘em out, no doubt others felt under pressure to join in. Scenes escalate and we get a take on the contemporary crisis of masculinity in what becomes a fast-paced and volatile psychodrama that questions the extent to which we are willing to excuse boys being boys and men being Trumpian grabbers.Beken’s performance is awash with physicality, psychedelic drug sequences, raves and rages against poor sanitation, rampant commercialism and overpriced food and water with spectacular lighting heightening the intensity. Yet he also has moments of nuanced introspection, questioning his place in the world and the life he has created.There’s plenty to enjoy throughout this dynamic show and also much to reflect upon.

We don't normally review works in progress, but that description is more a mark of Jeremy McClain’s honesty and humility than a reflection of his solo show Rat Tails at the Fruitmarket. The vast majority of productions at the Fringe are probably works in progress, if the truth were told.McClain is best known for his portrayal of Cubby Wintour over three seasons of the Golden Globe and Emmy-nominated Pose. The talented American has left New York behind and is now an Edinburgh resident, the home city of his husband. It's a move that echoes in his semi-autobiographical play.In Rat Tails, McClain plays Jasper, a Prozac-popping, biracial, millennial model agent from the American South living in London with his British, aristocratic husband. (The aristocratic bit is wishful thinking!) We follow him on an existential journey as he anxiously awaits their baby's birth in an NHS maternity waiting room. As Jasper grapples with themes of intergenerational trauma, mental health, gay culture, and class dynamics, the show provides a thought-provoking insight into his emotional state in the face of impending parenthood.It’s a deeply personal and authentic narrative inspired by the creator's quest to start a family with his partner. Prompted by a pivotal question from a doctor - "What kind of parent do you want to be?" - the character’s exploration delves into Jeremy’s childhood, fears, traumas, and aspirations with a delicate balance of humour and vulnerability in this cathartic expression rooted in his own profound introspection.McClain has created a waiting room set in the refreshingly airy upstairs studio of the Fruitmarket; such a contrast to the many enclosed sweatboxes at Fringe venues. Daylight pours in through the window and is integrated into the action of the play. Some chairs are bright yellow, others dazzling white - they were there when he moved in - and they are arranged in what at first seems to be a challenging configuration. A back-to-back central row in two sections faces an arc of seats on the two sides. This enables figure-of-eight movements around the space and places him in the midst of the audience. At times he will take the opportunity to sit down and deliver in conversational mode; one of many strategies that makes this delightfully intimate show so easy to watch, McClain being such a confident, relaxed, and personable guy.A work in progress? Yes. We chatted afterwards about a couple of issues. Worth seeing? Absolutely.

Sergio Blanco’s latest offering with Tangram Theatre Company, which he directs, is radically different from his other works. He describes Divine Invention Or The Celebration Of Love as a talk rather than a play and the performance by his translator and long-time collaborator Daniel Goldman, is precisely that.The work's beauty lies in the descriptive and life-affirming passion of the prose. It has the meta-theatrical, auto-fictional style made famous by the acclaimed Franco-Uruguayan playwright; it’s simply applied to the format, perhaps unexplored until now, of the performance lecture, told from behind an old wooden table, that itself could probably tell a few stories, appropriately in a dimly lit lecture theatre at Summerhall.On the table is the text that Goldman reads, though he clearly knows it too. Each of the 30 scenes, along with a prologue and an epilogue, is printed onto a separate sheet of heavy paper. Each is announced by name or number and when completed the page is meticulously placed to the side. Also on the table are some books, a notebook, a microscope, an apple and a human rib bone. Blanco’s directions say that ‘the text should be read with a certain vocal and gestural restraint, a certain containment as befits the reading of any lecture or talk’ though that should ‘not exclude the swell of certain emotions’.Goldman follows these orders, but from a listener’s perspective, given that there is no movement, more variations in tone would be welcome. While his forceful delivery builds as the scenes unfold and its consistency become captivating, some softer, gentler moments would suit certain scenes and provide an element of variety and changes of mood.The content is wide-ranging, with people, locations and themes changing from scene to scene. He interweaves first experiences of love as a teenager with his boxing instructor and the story of Francis Bacon's doomed romance with George Dyer. He journeys through the history of love in art, literature, music and science and from his childhood devotion to Superman, to Egyptian love poetry and from Tibetan meditation to Shakespeare.His self-confessed attempt to say something new about love is a fascinating, surprising and challenging work. “One morning, as I was writing, I suddenly understood that as a species, through incredible stubbornness, we were able to write love into our genetic makeup, and that this is enough to redeem us all. We were given mouths to bite with, and with deep intelligence and beauty, we learned to kiss each other.”

Square Pegs, the Macready Theatre Young Actors’ Company are back again at C Arts Aquila with another joyous bag of wild imagination, comedy and physicality. 3 Couples, 2 Breakups, 1 Barbie and the Berlin Wall by Georgina Dettmer is not as bonkers as last year's production, but it has the same distinctive style that sets them apart from other companies.The play is tightly directed by Tim Coker and Ellen Finlay who has choreographed some entertaining movement sequences for the eight teenagers who make up the ensemble: Millie Astbury, Chloe Beynon, Alex Bonsall, Lucia Lee, Matilda Measures, Alex Morgan, Kalil Naziu and Louisa Roberts. Together they ensure the fast-flowing pace in a show marked by rapid-fire dialogue that comes with audience participation.They were off to a good start in creating this crazy work when they discovered the story of Eija-Riitta Eklöf who became Mrs Eklöf-Berliner-Mauer after she married the Berlin Wall. Born in 1954 in Liden, Sweden she was aged seven when the Wall went up. Watching TV one day she saw the famous edifice and it was love at first sight; a romance that became an obsession. On her sixth trip in 1979 she hired an animist who claimed to be able to communicate with the Wall. She proposed and the Wall accepted. She explained that she found “slim things with horizontal lines very sexy… The Great Wall of China’s attractive, but he’s too thick – my husband is sexier.” Little did she realise that by the age of 28 she would be a widow. But it seems that objectum-sexuality never really caught on.It takes a lot of vivid imagination to come up with stories to beat that, but the play is full of amusing vignettes about romances around the world that include the Barbie doll affair and a German bilingual encounter, all with delightful accompaniment on the famous saxophone.Thus the joyfully absurd meta-theatrical play about love in all its weird and wonderful forms asks many questions about what it means to be human, but true to the company’s signature style, offers absolutely no answers whatsoever in this life-imitating-art play about growing up.

Not the longest-titled show at the Fringe, but surely in the top ten, An Adequate Abridgement of Boarding School Life as a Homo, at Just the Tonic, Cave, must also rate as one of the most outstanding. It’s a new play from Choir Boys & Co that explores the life of a young gay man in his last year at boarding school. The company points out that ‘the play is not a coming-out story, it is not a gay tragedy, and it is not porn. It is life through the lens of a queer young man, navigating masculinity, Grindr and an institution that is rife with shame’. Johnny (Ned Blackburn) is 18 and in his final year. That he has survived so long is remarkable. As a flaming homosexual and devotee of Britney he is hardly the best fit in an all-boys school, but then there are those who keep their inclinations secure in the changing-room locker. Harry (Will Walford), is a confident, charming, rugby lad. He insists, of course, that he’s not gay; he just like to fuck boys, in the plural, constantly. Johnny is not complaining. It’s what he is good at; actually the only thing he’s good at and he can't get enough.Blackburn wrote the play that is jointly and tightly directed by Meg Bowron and Joshua Stainer, carefully mixing the paces to ensure attention never falters. That we've all been through school, even if not a boarding school, means that there is plenty here with which we can all identify; fellow students, eccentric teachers and, for some, the school chaplain. Walford plays these and others, gifting them with distinctive voices and behavioural idiosyncrasies that mix scenes of sometimes tense and awkward situations with humour that Blackburn has so carefully woven into a rich emotional tapestry. The narrative follows a classic arc from seeing Johnny in the changing room where he introduces himself and the setting, through trigger points that advance the story and make the relationships increasingly complex, to a showdown and its consequences that lead to the denouement. As the events and incidents mount up, so does their emotional impact, on him and us, as he leads us through his experiences.Although he is the focus of the story, there is a strong chemistry between the boys that comes through whatever role Walford is playing. They know how to play off each other to create both humour and tension. They are also blessed with a varied soundscape tied into the scenes and some delightful mood lighting that reflects off the arched walls of The Cave and works particularly well in creating an ecclesiastical setting.All these elements combine to create a play that is a gem on every level; a theatrical joy that, with humour, pulls at the heartstrings.

Threepenny Collective’s Corpse Flower at C Venues Aquila is a weird piece, though not in a negative sense, but in its amalgamation of multiple elements and curious happenings that invite the search for explanations, meanings and interpretations.The company explains that in an old, godforsaken coastal town struck by famine, young Millie struggles to support her ailing mother by slaving in the pesticide factory that strives to protect them from swarms of flies. Worse comes when the townspeople are eaten by a swarm of ‘silly billy bugs’. Thereafter, the characters are transformed into various grotesque insects. This event plays havoc with the distinguished suitor’s' pursuit of Millie and his financial dealings with her father over the bride-price. An eccentric, money-grabbing aunt is the source of medication and Millie also has dealings with a local fisherman. This is all accompanied by a live original piano score worthy of the silent movies.It all makes for an entertaining, if rather confusing tragicomedy, which is not surprising given that the company has tried to contrast themes of ‘decay and redemption’ while ‘drawing on expressionist masterpieces like M and The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, Alice in Wonderland, A Nightmare Before Christmas, and the heady world and dark humour of Franz Kafka’; an excess of riches for a 60 minute play.The performances are strong and the company, founded by Ilya Wray, Michal Vojtech and Ariel de la Garza Davidof, recent graduates of the University of Cambridge has carved an unusual niche with this work.

As we walk in to Dee Allum: Deadname at Pleasance Courtyard , Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson is playing. Dee comes on to Let’s Go Girls! by Shania Twain and John Lennon’s Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) plays as we walk out.From the get-go, Allum would like us to know she has a sense of humour about the whole ‘trans thing’. At times, it does feel like that’s what she’s doing over the course of her Fringe debut: trying to put a mostly cisgender audience at ease with her existence, which one can understand given the way transness is currently being discussed (hint: usually not by trans people nor positively).Allum begins the show by getting us all up to speed with the answers to the FAQs she gets as a transwoman. Her soft spokenness and dry delivery help the show not feel like a preach-fest, which it isn’t at all; it is simply one person’s straightforward account of their transition and how they are reconciling this with themselves (both former and current), their loved ones and the world at large. The callbacks are constant and clever; the asides are astute (“a double-edged sword like all swords”) and we’re given a great life hack on owning a horse being the cheapest way to get ketamine.Given the subject matter, there are naturally moments of tension which Allum deftly breaks almost as quickly as they arise. There are no frills, no unexpected twists or surprises, but Allum’s irrefutable charm and ability to mine such a deeply personal experience for a comedy hour shows she doesn’t need it. Or, as she succinctly puts it, “I was born a man but am now interesting.”

Hailed by the company as ‘loud, obnoxious and darkly humorous’, one is left wondering what happened to those elements in You Can’t Escape an Aussie Boy. The three-man play tells the woeful tale of Marydale Tigers Football Club and the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that arises when the wholly unqualified lads stumble across a chance to revive their ‘jockstain’ of a footy club, making themselves rich into the bargain. All they lack is experience and knowledge.The plot sounds appealing and the cast clearly have performance skills; it just isn’t a particularly gripping storyline, though they come out with some entertaining Aussie vocabulary, expressions and imagery.

As the Summer Olympics approach, the UK première of Lucas Hnath’s Red Speedo at the Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond comes with timely prescience of the almost inevitable doping scandals that will mar the event.The play launches in at the deep end with the discovery of performance-enhancing drugs in the swimming club’s refrigerator. It could be a play that poses serious moral questions that create dilemmas all round. Indeed they are there, but the treatment lacks depth and with the exception of a couple of impassioned speeches the manoeuvrings around the situation seem mostly concerned with heightening the comedy. Ethical issues float around but without detailed exposition and neither the script nor Matthew Dunster’s direction lives up to the play’s billing as a thriller.Finn Cole (best known for his roles as Michael Gray in Peaky Blinders and Joshua ‘J’ Cody in Animal Kingdom), perhaps surprisingly at the age of 28, makes his professional stage debut as Ray, a somewhat dim-witted, exceptional swimmer who stands on the brink of selection for the Olympic team and, if he changes trainer, a lucrative sponsorship deal. Portraying a young man detached from reality with a level of naivety that often amounts to stupidity, seems to leave Cole detached and not fully at ease with the role. In contrast, Ciarán Owens (also Peaky Blinders), gives an animated performance as Peter, a lawyer of flexible principles and Ray’s older brother and manager. His rapid-fire conversations are often prefaced or interspersed with a raging monologue filled with truncated lines that suggest a loss for words or a sudden change of tack.The script is easily envisaged with its half-formed sentences and rows of dots as the idea falls off and the next one picks up, but the device often sounds like fumbling.Between these two comes the considered performance of Fraser James, known only as Coach, the trainer and mentor who increasingly becomes the investigator. He remains calm in the crises and seems to have a firm hold on ethics, which is why his about-face at the end lacks a certain level of credibility. To answer, “Where did the drugs come from?” Parker Lapaine, also making her stage debut, convincingly plays Lydia, a girl with whom Ryan has failed romantically and who has escaped from her former role as a supplier. The link is there, but the love story is hardly necessary and something of a diversion from the main issue.Given the level at which Ray is competing and the number of events in which he participates, it’s incredible that at no stage in the story do the authorities carry out a drugs test. Of course, that would throw a spanner into the works sufficient to require a rewrite, but it is a niggling issue. Really annoying, however, is the ear-splittingly loud horn from sound designer Holly Khan that marks each scene change and is at odds with the pleasing set designer by Anna Fleischle who along with lighting designer Sally Ferguson has converted the theatre into a shimmering natatorium complete with a small sunken pool and stainless steel steps. It all ends rather mysteriously with an unconvincing fight scene directed by Claire Llewellyn as Roy Orbison reprises, Anything you want, you got it, which, as far as i could tell, remains a pipe dream for Ray.

The Donmar Warehouse, with its exposed bricks and systems, provides an ideal setting for Dominique Morisseau’s Skeleton Crew that opened off-Broadway in 2016, was subsequently nominated for three Tony Awards and now has its UK premier,The setting is Detroit, a monocity that tied itself to the automotive industry. When times were good the city thrived, but when the industry went to decline the city and the lives of its inhabitants went with it. The year is 2008, the brink of that fateful period. Financial crises have brought economic woes. Many factories have already closed; others are sustained by skeleton crews who persevere even as the threat of redundancy hovers over them. Morisseau captures the impending doom in the break room of an assembly line which becomes a microcosm of the city’s fragile condition, the resilience and kind-heartedness of its people and the hope that sees them through the darkest of times.Casting by Anna Cooper has brought together a cohesive yet diverse quartet of highly talented black American actors who create four unique characters, each of whom has a life and background rooted in the city. A rather drawn-out first act consists of little more than getting to know the characters and gaining a feel for the setting, creating an interval of speculation as to where it's going based on a few snippets that are casually dropped into the conversations. Morisseau is from Detroit so knows the social backgrounds and styles of language from different parts of the city which she authentically reveals in the dialogue. The characters have precise roles and distinctive personal narratives that become increasingly interwoven.Pamela Nomvete displays an abundance of matriarchal stoicism as Faye, the down-to-earth, omniscient union rep, who has ruled the break room for twenty-nine years. That figure places her on the precipice of retirement. One more year will make a big difference to her pension, but will she make it before ill-health or redundancy cuts her time short? She stands up to the system and defies those in power yet is a confessor to her workmates. Dealing with her troublesome nature is Reggie, who is proud to have risen from humble beginnings to the position of foreman. It often places him in a difficult situations and Tobi Bamtefa captures the torments of a conscientious man placed in conflicting situations trying to do the bidding of those upstairs while remaining faithful to his roots and doing his best to help and protect others. His stress is palpable. In contrast, Shanita, although expecting a baby, takes everything in her stride and remains unfazed by the threats to her job security. Racheal Ofori reveals the wit and intelligence of a west-side girl who is proud of the part she plays in keeping the assembly line running and knows the importance of the smallest cog in the wheel. She chills by listening to the music in her head and has a degree of homespun philosophy that sees her through life. Her soft nature very much appeals to Dez, a young man wise to the streets of Detroit who is saving to set up his own business and who just wishes to be left alone to pursue things as he sees them. Their relationship simmers throughout. Branden Cook gives an intriguing performance as a focussed guy with a slightly gritty edge that doesn’t always go down well with others. The outstanding quality of his acting is all the more remarkable given that this is his stage debut.The set is meticulously designed by Ultz, who gives a worn functionality to the break room and defines the space with a ceiling canopy. The wider context of the factory is created by the sounds of heavy industrial machinery designed by Nicola T Chang and visualised aloft with a range of lighting effects from Ciarán Cunningham. Period and location are reinforced with songs, most notably by Aretha Franklin and J Dilla. Director Matthew Xia allows the text to flow at a naturalistic pace that highlights the often mundane routines of workplace conversations, heightening the tension at times with measured pauses and in the second act allowing the energy to rise as matters become more critical. He weaves all the elements into a smooth-flowing observation of people caught up in circumstances beyond and their struggle for survival.

The Coronet Theatre again hosts Gare St Lazare Ireland, the leading exponents of Samuel Becketts’ work. On this visit, in only a three-night run, they present the Beckett Trilogy, consisting of the novels Molloy, Malone Dies and The Unnamable, a group Beckett described as the ‘the important work’. Performed as consecutive monologues over three hours, acclaimed actor Conor Lovett gives a stellar performance of this mammoth work, that demonstrates how Beckett’s complex texts should be delivered.In Molloy a man recounts his effort to visit his ageing mother. En route he is arrested for indecently resting and encounters an old woman and her dog with dire consequences. Malone Dies begins with the narrator Malone on his deathbed, telling himself stories as he bides his time. He finally hits on a character, McMann, whose story involving an asylum, a lunatic nurse and an Easter Sunday outing to the islands, results in scenes of carnage. The Unnamable dispenses with the idea of a storyline as the nameless narrator tries to make sense of his existence. There is no set and all effects come from the lighting design by SImon Bennison who for the first two plays bathes the centre in a pool of dimmed white light in which Lovett stands. Apart from a few shufflings he remains fixed, but from time to time he intersperses the stillness with grand gestures as he becomes animated over some event. Award-winning director Judy Hegarty Lovett ensures that the words and performance are given full weight with no distractions. The last play sees a white rectangle projected onto the wall with Lovett in the direct line of the source so that his towering shadow looms over him and the abstractness of the piece is heightened.Lovett embraces the many characteristics common to the performance of Beckett's plays. Often in a seemingly mesmerised state he will pause, sometimes pushing the limits of the silent break to its limits. Then he will start up again, the next lines not always following on from the ones before, because his character has gone off on a tangent or simply forgotten what he was talking about and, indeed, where he is. Much of it comes across as the ramblings of men who relive the past, but often fumble for words and leave sentences hanging; whose mings are full of non-sequitors. In contrast he can also vividly recall some things and tell often shocking stories of how he treated his mother and conjure up bizarre scenes, as with the incident of the dead dog. A great joy is that all is spoken with a natural Irish lilt and intonations that give a lightness to even the darkest of moments.Often sad and sometimes humorous, Lovett, captures the detached existences of men trying to make sense of the world and understand events until existence fades away. In the meantime, their malaise sv given expression in famous Beckett’s final words: “I can’t go on, I must go on, I’ll go on”.

Caryl Churchill’s wild family debacle, Hearts Desire is given a make-over at the Coronet Theatre by acclaimed Italian theatre maker Lisa Ferlazzo Natoli who directs the company lacasadargilla. Presented in an Italian translation by Laura Caretti and Margaret Rose as L’Amore Del Cuore with monitors either side of the stage providing the English text, it is an intense hour of physicality, humour and linguistic agility.A simple story is placed on rewind as the characters go so far through the script before being told to ‘reset’ and start all over again. For those who like to know what’s coming next, the answer is, “You’ve just heard it”. Yet each reiteration brings with it certain changes and variations. There is a version at high speed in which the Italian language, with its predominant vowel sounds and inherent musicality, makes for humour and evokes admiration for the cast’s verbal agility. Another version has excess words removed and yet another deploys Churchill’s distinctive overlapping conversation that she pioneered in Top Girls. After several repetitions it's time to move on to the next stage of the story and adopt the same recurring format until finally the whole story is told. This structure gives a sense of people experiencing frustration as they struggle to convey their message and of wondering why it is so difficult for people to understand and accept what is being said no matter how many times theyare told.The deceptively calm opening belies the argumentative and aggressive nature of much that follows. The set, designed by Alessandro Ferroni, is stark and dismal, with just a central wooden table around which the family gathers. Costumes by Camilla Caré , mostly in dull shades of grey, green and blue add to the foreboding air. The family is gathered to greet 35-year-old daughter Suzy on her return form Australia. It should be a straightforward celebration, yet as is often the case with families, a simple disagreement, in this case as to whether her father should pick her up from the airport, sets husband and wife against each other, suggesting that below the surface much more about their relationship lies buried. The debate is fuelled by interjections from the girl’s aunt and alcoholic brother who cannot resist having their say, before a spanner is thrown into the works with the arrival of the girl’s friend with news that renders all the preceding rhetoric futile. Some of the more absurd and surreal interventions in Churchill’s drama are omitted here, which makes for a production that is tightly focussed on communication and interactions between members of the family. The exception is the brother, who doubles as the director and announces the stage directions from a chair at the side of the stage, detached from the main set. But the emphasis on language works well for the cast of Tessa Battaiato, Tania Garribba, Fortunato Leccese, Alice Palazzi and Francesco Villano who have performed together for fifteen years and have a palpable affinity with each other.This production afforded the rare opportunity to see this short work performed, and perhaps the only chance to witness it in Italian, so much so that Caryl Churchill, now in her 86th year, attended the opening night. The run is for three nights only, but it’s to be hoped that other opportunities to see it present themselves.

Cole Porter’s highly imaginative dual play, after Shakespeare, a musical within a musical, Kiss Me Kate, has opened at the Barbican. It received a rapturous reception on press night, with an immediate and exuberant standing ovation and almost two more during the course of the performance as show-stopping numbers were wildly applauded.Kiss Me Kate premiered in 1948 and won the first Tony Award for Best Musical the following year. The story of the show is rooted in the notorious on-stage/off-stage battle between husband-and-wife actors Alfred Lunt and Lynn Fontanne during their 1935 production of The Taming of the Shrew. Future Broadway producer Arnold Saint-Subber observed their wranglings and asked Bella and Samuel Spewack to write the book. Coincidentally, their marriage was also on the rocks. Subsequently, Bella Spewack invited Porter to write the music and lyrics that would turn it into the Broadway show; his only one to run for over a 1000 performances.That marital dispute provided the structure for a show that would mirror the conflict between the leading characters in the play, and the modern-day tribulations between a divorced couple playing those parts. Hence, all the characters take on two roles:one in real life and one in the travelling production of the Shrew and this production finds actors in every part who excel in their roles to provide an evening of impassioned performances, catchy songs and high-energy dance.Adrian Dunbar (Fred Graham/Petruchio) makes his musical theatre debut and with his silver-grey hair, suave demeanour and relaxed demeanor he performs with enthusiasm with an almost grinning expression that reveals how much he is joying himself in the roles. His vocals are competent, but not in the same league as other soloists. Opposite him the accomplished soprano and Tony Award winner Stephanie J. Block (Lilli Vanessi/Katherine), making her West End debut, often comically yet sensitively relates the the ups and down of her marriage, but disposes of any subtlety when dealing with romance in her aggressive portrayal of Kate. Nowhere has misandry been more fully and venomously expressed, than in I Hate Men which she performs with relish.A parallel love story is played out by Charlie Stemp (Bill Calhoun/Lucentio) and Georgina Onuorah (Lois Lane/Bianca). Outstanding throughout, they each have a highspot: Onuorah in her rendition of Always True To You In My Fashion and Stemp with the Company in the breath-taking song and dance routine complete with tap section, Bianca. It’s a shining example of Anthony Van Laast’s remarkable imagination and skill as a choreographer. The Company are also out in force with Jack Butterworth (Paul) in the sultry It’s Too Darn Hot.No US show of this type would be complete without a couple of gangsters to muddy the waters and Hammed Animashaun and Nigel Lindsay do that with great humour and skill. The double act reaches its peak in their rendition of the musical-hall-style comic number Brush Up Your Shakespeare, which becomes something of a singalong.It’s not just the stage that’s littered with star performances and there are more than mentioned here. Director Bartlett Sher has excelled in creating an up-to-date and slick show that is stunning both visually and musically. Much of that is also due to the astounding revolve set by Michael Yeargan, the elegant and vivid costumes by designer Catherine Zuber, Donald Holder’s sparkling lighting design, Adam Fisher’s sound design and the musical supervision of Stephen Ridley with orchestration by Don Sebesky. They, along with many others make a brilliant team and ensure the phenomenal end product.With famous songs such as Another Opening, Another Show, Wunderbar, We Open in Venice, So in Love and Tom, Dick or Harry. Kiss Me Kate is night out not to be missed.

The opportunities for speculation about meaning abound in Franz Kafka’s The Hunger Artist at Etcetera Theatre, Camden in a production by London Actors Workshop, with Jonathan Sidgwick in the solo role. Some lines of interpretation might gain in strength as the story unfolds while others might fade or be abandoned entirely. The ultimate joy is knowing that you are right, wherever your thoughts take you, for who is there to say that you are wrong? Certainly not Kafka!A Voice of God prologue sets the scene and context for the play. This is Franz Kafka’s final work. He died on 3rd June 1924, and it seemed fitting that this play be performed in the centenary month of his passing. Kafka was editing A Hunger Artist on his deathbed, a story whose composition he had begun before he was consumed by tuberculosis and his throat closed to the point that he could not take any more nourishment. His dying wish was that any writings found in his house following his demise should be burned, except this one, which clearly meant a lot to him. As Kafka lay in obscurity on his deathbed of only forty years old, his literary executor, Max Brod, told him he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. Kafka was in no position to argue and so his legacy was preserved.In an age when we have grown beyond keeping animals in cramped cages in zoos or torturing them for purposes of circus entertainment, it’s worth pondering for a while on the reality of a hunger artist in order to have a handle on the play. The sight of Sidgwick confined within the bars of a cage that allows him only to peer through the gaps, contort and crawl from one part of the straw-strewn floor to another, is not just a construction for the stage, but a realistic representation of what people used to find entertaining. Crowds of spectators would gather to see a new installation, and return on a regular basis to see how the man’s starvation was progressing. Some would become night watchmen, to ensure that he was never let out and that no one slipped him a morsel of sustenance. Some admired, others jeered and became abusive, but this was all part of the entertainment, in the same way that the public used to relish a day out at the gallows or beheading block to witness executions.But if the hunger artist were to die that would be a loss of revenue, so in the case of Sidgwick’s character, known only as The Protagonist, the Impressario, in modern terms his producer and agent limits his fasting to forty days. This infuriates him. He sees it as an attack on his art and stamina, for he is no doubt that he can easily exceed that brief span and become the world’s longest fasting hunger artist. But he was denied that opportunity and any case there was no Guinness Book of World Records in those days.For those pursuing explanations, the mention of forty days is inevitably a springboard for what is probably misguided speculation, given that Kafka was a Jew and an atheist. But let’s go there. At a point towards the end when The Protagonist emerges from his confinement, he adopts a position with his arms stretched out across the top bar of his cage and with rags for a covering and head bowed to the left he creates the image of a man crucified for his art, so much so that it’s hard not to look for a sword-hole in his side and a crown of thorns on his head. This religious or spiritual dimension easily leads to thinking of the pillar saints, like St Simeon Stylites, who similarly set themselves apart from the world to enter a realm of asceticism or the flagellants who scourged themselves into a state of agonising exaltation.And as the crowds who once so loyally followed Jesus mocked him on the Via Dolorosa and from the foot of his cross, so in Kafka’s story The Protagonist’s followers have now lost interest and his novelty value has passed. He parts company with the Impresario and seeks fame by joining a circus, only to be placed in a cage next to the animals. But now, the people pass him by on their way to see the latest novelty, a panther, whose feeding times they particularly enjoyed. Then, as The Protagonist lies near to death in his cage, almost indistinguishable from the straw, the words of the prophet Isaiah come to mind: ‘He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief”. Other angles on the play see it as a statement about misunderstood artists, or as Kafka’s autobiographical statement, bearing in mind his possible anorexia nervosa, imminent death and frail body. The panther stands as the antithesis to this and a reminder of how some can gorge themselves with fame while others are starved into ignominy.Steven Berkoff suggested this text for Sidgwick’s debut solo show and it has proved to be an inspired choice. Sidgwick committed to it wholeheartedly, losing around seven kilos in weight from his already tall, slender body. The cage is constructed to accommodate his height, leaving him cramped but allowing for a performance marked by physicality. He captures the many moods through which the Protagonist passes, sometimes shaking the bars and raging at those who fail to understand him, before recoiling to introspectively consider his plight and his often fraught relationship with the Impresario, reminding us of Kafka’s words in The Metamorphosis, “I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself”. In all respects it is a captivating and intriguing performance with an admirably idiosyncratic take on physical theatre.The current production comes with a new score by Mark Glentworth that conjures up images and associations that add yet another dimension to the play which is still undergoing tweaks in pursuit of the finished product.

Let out your inner child and enjoy The Untold Fable of Fritz by Unsettled Theatre at the Prague Fringe Festival in the Divadlo Inspirace Theatre.The snow sweeps down from the mountain tops of the Neuchstein region, freezing over the valleys and the hearts of the people that live at the foot of the tallest peak. In the Kingdom of Brutzenvien a tragedy has befallen the royal household, as the young heir to the throne is consumed with a debilitating cough that no doctor can cure. The king vows that he would give his life to save his son, whereupon he hears of a mystical old man who might have the cure he so desperately needs. He now has no alternative but to embark on the perilous journey to find the one man who might save his son’s life. But what of his vow?Using simple yet versatile props, the multi-roling cast of Paige Canavan-Smith, Anais Fallow and Tom Wheeldon, embark on the hazardous journey with horses and sleds over bumpy, pot-hole riddled roads with the elements against them. Performed with precision and imagination, specially rewarding is their impeccable enunciation of the tight script, combined with a sense of pace that moves the action on. But they have one more gem of a bonus up their sleeve. The Prince is an endearing puppet for whom it is easy to feel sorry as he endures the discomfort of the journey and the misery of his condition as he is carefully manipulated by the cast. Meanwhile song interludes reflect on the situation and provide a further dimension to the drama.In accordance with their intentions, there is a joyous sense of playfulness in what they do and this production is certainly not without its moments of humour. Yet it is also possible to appreciate themes of caring, sacrifice and integrity that permeate the story.

What do Shakespeare, thermodynamics and biochemistry have in common? The somewhat surprising answer is Love. But little did the Bard realise that his Sonnets expressed the consequences and feelings generated by complex scientific reactions which the brain then sends out to the body with amazing consequences.Dr. Michael Londesborough MBE is the expert who takes us on a fascinating journey that explores the nature of romance and explains what we feel and why we behave as we do when it comes to matters of the heart, an organ that has very little to do with romance at all. His presentation, The Chemistry of Love at the Prague Fringe is very much in the style of a Ted Talk Although packed with a wealth of scientific information, it remains accessible at all times. It’s well illustrated with numerous projections that show the molecular structures that control or instigate our behaviour. There’s much talk of monoamine neurotransmitters such as dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin along with a host of other stuff that for chemists is probably old hat but to the rest of us sounds very impressive. The real sense of awe and wonder comes when we start to discover what these things can do and the effects they can have. A delightful story about voles serves as an example. Amongst all the varieties of voles in the world, why is that only the prairie vole is monogamous? Apparently it’s because of a minute difference between them and the rest of the species.The female has more oxytocin receptors that are densely packed in her reward system and critically the male’s gene for the vasopressin receptor has a longer segment. The result is that they bond for life. Shakespeare never mentioned a vole in any of his writings, but he observed the outcomes of molecular behaviour in humans without realising it. In Sonnet 129 he illustrates the feeling of guilt or remorse on having committed an act of lust. No sooner is the deed done, and certainly by the next morning, there is a message is sent out saying, “I wish I hadn’t done that”. Or as the Bard put it, “Th' expense of spirit in a waste of shame/Is lust in action… /Enjoyed no sooner but despisèd straight”. Londesborough goes on to give more examples of other reactions in different situations which Shakespeare accurately describes.It all makes for a highly informative and entertaining hour. The only shortcoming is perhaps in what is left out. The talk is concerned only with heterosexual behaviour and some acknowledgement of alternatives would not be out of place given Shakespeare’s possible bisexuality and his dedication in the sonnets to the ‘Fair Youth’ That aside, Londesborough’s words ensure that sex and Shakespeare will never be the same again.

Making their international debut, UnErase Poetry, India's biggest spoken-word collective, with over two million followers on social media, provide an hour of delightful tales, all beautifully told in Stories From India.Taranjit Kaur, Helly Shah and Simar Singh relate personal stories that give a fascinating insight into a mysterious culture rooted in traditional expectations and family life, which modern generations find increasingly difficult to embrace. An array of topics feature in often amusing anecdotes that have a profound personal element and open questions that go to the heart of the national psyche. What is it like for a young girl to realise that she is less favoured than her sister because she is a different shade of brown? How do you confront parental expectations concerning your career and marriage when they are at odds with what you want? How do you broach the idea of moving away from home to have an independent life of your own making in another country? How do you challenge stereotypes of women and make clear that you do not intend to devote your life to cooking and cleaning. How does a young man explain to his father that there is more to life than being an engineer? Why are boys not supposed to show emotion and what does it mean to be a man? Why is there so little sex education and if you are radical enough to think it necessary, where do you begin?These tales of love, hope and, of course, engineering, are eloquently expressed in prose and verse by three experts in the art. Their mellow voices and varied delivery make for easy listening, combined with sincerity, passion and humour that sustain the passing on of powerful messages that are at the heart of our humanity.Storytelling and the spoken word genre is a performance art that is easily overlooked, but this production is a testament to its worthiness as part of the canon of dramatic forms. Stories From India might be a surprise discovery that opens up a new world of artistic appreciation. The experience will certainly be a joy and memorable.

Who knows what Shakespeare looked like? We might think we do, yet as Pip Utton points out in his solo performance of At Home With Will Shakespeare at the Prague Fringe, the most famous images we have of him are not necessarily that reliable. So let Utton, one of the UK’s leading performers of monodrama be that man; that he might on ‘your imaginary forces work’. Join him as he creates plays and parts for his band of actors, The King’s Men at the Globe, and reveals the man behind the words. Listen to some of the most famous lines ever written, all beautifully delivered by a man who has perfected his art over decades.The setting is simple yet contains all the tools of his trade. A desk, worthy of a child at school, with parchments scattered all over it containing his various attempts to write the next great speech, the all-important quill and the even more important bottle of red wine for stimulation. He looks as though he’s already had a few. His ruddy complexion glistens in the light, despite the camouflage of bristles from not having shaved for days, and his hair remains dishevelled throughout. His baggy clothes befit the period, but give the impression he’s been wearing them for years, although he has a couple of changes that show him to be a man who relishes being swathed in robes of bright colour. It’s spartan, functional yet homely and a credible setting for the Bard to rattle off a few plays; his office and study. A notable feature of his performance and the writing is the seamlessness with which he switches from narrative about his life and times into recitations from the plays and then breaks the fourth wall and becomes one of us. Often wandering off the stage and up the aisle, especially when he sees someone who will make the focus of his next piece, he particularly enjoys finding an attractive lady to whom he can address romantic verse and show us the Shakespeare the womaniser. Then we are transported to his home in Stratford-upon-Avon to learn of his beloved wife Anne and his two children. This leads later to one of the most touching scenes in which he has to return there as his son is taken ill. He abandons writing and rehearsals, but nothing can be done for the boy he named Hamlet. Reduced to tears he laments the boy’s tragic passing. Back in London he immerses us more deeply into the age with tales of his disputes with Marlowe, rivalry with Ben Johnson and the demands of his leading actor Richard Burbage.At Home With Will Shakespeare is packed with details of the man’s life and dips into many of the famous speeches. As the title suggests, we are made to feel as though we are his guest as he wears ‘his heart upon his sleeve’ to reveal that beneath all the triumphs of his writing was a man who would probably been amazed to think that his works were still being performed over four hundred years after his death. After all, he was just a writer trying to earn a living.

For fans of Holmes and anyone who enjoys a solid solo show, this performance of Sherlock Holmes: The Last Act at the Prague Fringe by celebrated actor Nigel Miles-Thomas is a must-see. Written by Conan Doyle expert, David Stuart Davies and directed with precision by Gareth Armstrong, this unfolding tale of how it all came to an end is sure to please.We join the famous detective in his Baker Street home where he begins to resolve ‘the last act’ of his epic career. In the course of the investigation, Miles-Thomas assumes the personas of fourteen characters, delineated by their voices, movements and mannerisms. Sound and lighting combine to create moods and locations where his encounters take place. At the forefront of the catalogue of characters is his long-suffering companion and stalwart defender, Dr Watson. But this is 1916 and all Holmes has left are the memories of times spent with Watson, now that his dear friend has died. He vividly recalls how they first met and acquired what has become one of the most famous of London addresses, 221B Baker Street, when Holmes left his Sussex retreat to be at the centre of investigations in London. There were ups and downs in the friendship, but the pair became inseparable.The famous story of his nemesis Professor Moriarty looms large as he explains the incident at Reichenbach Falls that brought about the man's death and where Holmes decided to fabricate his own disappearance, which he sustained for several years, leading people to assume that he too was dead, until he made a surprise reappearance.There are many insights into the man himself, who was clearly not always easy to get along with. Sometimes secretive, as in the case of the Hound of the Baskervilles, and at times argumentative and drugged up on cocaine and morphine. Nothing remains hidden in this exposé. Holmes: The Last Act is a fine story whether you are an aficionado of the man or not, but for devotees of Conan Doyle, this will be a delightful imagining of the scenes from the life of the famous detective. Miles-Thomas’s gives a nuanced performance that deploys all the skills of an accomplished actor to create such a credible character that seems to erase his fictionality.

If you’ve never seen Shakespeare performed Aussie style, this is your chance. Forget sitting for three to four hours as the play laboriously unfolds. Australian Shakespeare Company’s Graduate Players have reduced Twelfth Night to a running time of seventy minutes in an action-packed interpretation that's full of frolics and makes even that time fly by.Shakespeare might have imagined Viola shipwrecked on the shores of Illyria, but this down-under version has her washed up at The Blue Topaz Resort on an island off the steamy coast of Queensland. But no worries; she’ll be right. It’s the hangout of Sir Toby Belch, who is either drunk or hungover; the answer to both being another drink. The comedy, of which there is plenty, mostly revolves around him and his scrounging ways with Sir Andrew Aguecheek, his bullying of Malvolio and his lust for Maria.His is not the main story, however. At the heart of the play are gender-bending love stories, rampant with disguises and deceits. From beach-wear to fine costumes and beach-bums to aristocrats, it’s a riot of colour and confusion as mistaken identities cause havoc with all the romance that is in the air. Acts of good intention that initially seem like great ideas soon become extraordinarily convoluted, with multiple twists and turns before being resolved, so that almost everyone can live happily ever after on the love island.It’s a major accomplishment to reduce the script to its bare essentials, while retaining the most famous lines, even if they are just the openings of otherwise long speeches that have been cut. At least we have the satisfaction of hearing the Bard’s most memorable words. Throughout this fast-paced and farcical interpretation we also enjoy seeing a fine troupe of skilled actors pull off this outrageous romp with confidence and conviction. Play on!

At the end of drunken night out all that Gemma and Jane want is to jump into a taxi, get home and crash into bed. But it’s that time of night when cabs are few and far between and those that do appear are already occupied. Despite their screaming, shouting and frantic waving some, perhaps wisely, just ignore them and drive on. Then they see a drop-dead gorgeous hunk of guy with a moustache turn to look at them with an alluring eye before disappearing into the night. Is this the man of Gemma's dreams? Later, they see a man by the distant bushes doing something that should only be carried out in private. Jane captures the event on her camera and a black cat also takes an interest in what is going on. Rank, at the Lantern Theatre, is the debut play from Goldie Majtas who also plays Gemma opposite Paige Cowell as Jane. To say more about the plot would risk giving too much away, but the loose ends are brought together in a neatly crafted story that is packed with humour. Playing drunk is an acting challenge but Cowell shows exactly how it should be done. From the stumbling around to the slurred conversation she hilariously captures the lack of control that follows an excess of alcohol. Rather than have them both in this extreme state Majitas shows that Gemma, though tipsy, can clearly handle the drink and be the supportive friend when the need arises.Sobering up the next day, the two embark on working out what was going on the night before. Through studied use of social media and the photos Jane took the pieces of the jigsaw come together, the plot thickens and the story moves on with the efficiency of a police investigation until all is revealed and they find themselves in a very difficult situation that leads to a dark turn of events and a chilling ending. Julia Mandler directs this play, full of twists and turns, with precision and pace. With two talented performers and a solid script she draws out the comedy, effectively using pauses and looks that speak volumes to give some hilarious moments. The bond between the two characters in their twenties is evident throughout and there is a joyous feeling of the crazy times they have living together. Natalia Glow creates a suitable sense of realism managing the set, props and costumes in the intimate space.Rank is a fun-filled hour of exciting new material that augurs well for the writing future of Majitas.

Ed Oulton booked his studio at Theatre Peckham as part of their Fringe programme before he’d written Barrier to Entry. Two months later, coinciding with his twenty-second birthday, he was on stage performing it. That’s some achievement, but it’s more than matched by the quality of his writing and performance.His solo show is the captivating story of Connor, a young Scouse lad whose disposition is at odds with the school system and the national curriculum. It opens as Commor is about to sit his maths GCSE exam. Not just as any sixteen-year-old might; he’s been there and done that. No. This is his third attempt. The first was a regular failure; the second a deliberate act of rebellion, but this time it really matters and he’s sincere about passing, because if he doesn’t the life-changing opportunity that awaits him might disappear forever. Maths is his barrier to entry, because the government has decided that everyone must have that to get on a course to further themselves. There are probably many former and present students for whom this play will resonate. Connor post-dates the discredited 11+ exam that would have been another hurdle for him to jump over. That system of selection split the nation; it gave a boost to the careers and egos of approximately 20% of the population while leaving the rest deflated. The results of the exam were only the beginning of the divisiveness that followed. While the elite went on to study modern languages and transitional academic subjects, the rest were consigned to workshops to turn wood and hammer metal, though some basic subjects they had in common. Like Connor many became misfits in a system that wasn’t geared to their needs, interests or abilities. Connor is at a posh school at a cost to his parents, as his headteacher never fails to remind him, just to put him down a little more. There he has his older brother’s reputation to deal with; the star student who won a scholarship to the school, cost his parents nothing, excelled in everything and became head boy. Follow that. Connor can’t and he’s sick of being told by everyone that he’s not living up to the standards of his brother. It’s a poignant storyline for those who grew up with sibling rivalry of whatever sort. One day, however, Connor finds success in a major act of rebellion. If the system is against you then go against the system. He commits a series of highly visible but anonymous acts to the acclaim of his fellow students and the outrage of prefects and staff. Although he can’t tell them it’s him, in private he can still wallow in the glory and acclaim it brings him as the perpetrator. Finally, he has something of which he can be proud. Also he discovers that the teacher who’s been supervising his studies turns out not to be his enemy but his saviour. It’s an imaginative yet credible narrative that contains vivid vignettes along with events that inform and entertain. Oulton tells the story with conviction, impassioned by Connor’s plight and his battle against the odds. He has the voices for the characters that haunt Connor’s days and brings them to life both physically and vocally with a range of actions and accents. He tells the narrative in an open, inviting manner. He effectively utilises the region's distinctive intonation and consonant and vowel sounds to naturally raise the enjoyment level as the twists in the story unfold. Director Hector Smith keeps the design simple with a backdrop of plain white boards and a versatile chair. The intermittent projections enhance the story and the ominous digital clock effectively sets the examination-room scene.Oulton will revise the script in the light of this first outing, but he already has a joyous piece of theatre that touches the heart and mind whilst being highly entertaining.

Playwright Tim Coakley has created an interesting twist on Luigi Pirandello’s groundbreaking play, Six Characters in Search of an Author, with his latest work, Six Characters in Search of Pirandello, directed by Petna Hapgood at the Lantern Theatre.Julian McDowell gives a measured and charming performance as Pirandello, complete with a goatee white moustache and beard and moments of eccentricity and frustration thrown into the mix to suggest a man who is entering his twilight years with a degree of resentment. With his great achievements behind him he still yearns to write and, one suspects, continue as the controversial figure whose radical works had created such a stir in the world of theatre and inspired a new generation of writers.But the muse seems to have deserted him. What can the subject of his next play be and where are the characters who will carry his message to the world? Indeed, what is his message? Has he not expounded it enough already? Help appears in the form of the Stranger, who emerges from under a dust sheet; a statue suddenly brought to life in a room that might well be a study, but is so cluttered with junk it looks as though all the props from Pirandello’s collected works have been scattered around an attic depository. Andrew Allen in this role suggests that rather than Pirandello racking his brain in search of the characters for his next play, perhaps the characters have come to find him; all six of them. If ‘one man in his time plays many parts’ then Allen introduces each to Pirandello until he realises that he has the material for his next opus. In contrast to McDowell, Allen in the early scenes is loud and rather over-the-top. By the time he mellows, the play has already overrun its course as the denouement becomes apparent and we are left to sit through its final unfolding. The end result is a play that, while being a novel take on the original, is stronger in concept than execution.

Actor and writer Benjamin Kelm taps himself repeatedly about the face as he repeats the mantra, “You can do it, you can do it , you can do it. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to be afraid.”It’s known as the Emotional Freedom Technique or EFT. He was taught it as a way of building self confidence and deploys the strategy when he feels, challenged, under threat or is in any way nervous, as he is for much of the time in his play Far From Home Close To Love. Born in Germany, he wasn’t a stranger to travel, having lived in London and Los Angeles. Now he is fulfilling his dream of living in New York. The nerves kick in as he approaches the immigration officer at the airport, who is not the most welcoming of people, but after a few misunderstandings he passes through the gate and his dream becomes a reality. He goes on to recount his impressions of the city and selected experiences, starting with a rather distasteful incident on the train, then an unfortunate encounter with two men on the street and his home being broken into. For company he often goes on walking tours in order to meet people, but even there and amongst the bustling throngs of the Big Apple, he always has a sense of isolation. Longingly, he remembers his family and friends back in Germany in which he finds comfort, but also degree of frustraion. He takes to writing poems to give voice to his feelings of loneliness and as a record of what befalls him. These he recites from the scraps of paper on which they are scribbled. His narrative is accompanied by recordings of background sounds and noises he made on his journeys to various locations around the city.Kelm embodies the highs and lows of his emotional journey allowing us into his world and giving an insight into adjusting to life a strange city. His English is spoken with a strong German accent and acts throughout as a reminder that here is a man trying to make his way another country and rediscover himself in a new setting; a man who ultimately looks forward to the rest of his life with a new-found hope and with many of his fears overcome.

The European premiere of A Song of Songs at the Park Theatre sees a work as mysterious in theatrical categorisation as the book on which it is based is in terms of religious literature.Its place in the Hebrew canon derives largely from its being ascribed to King Solomon, though many scholars, rightly dismissing that connection, treasure it as a unique piece of writing with its own merits. Some rabbis have taken it to be an expression of God’s love for Israel, while Christian scholars see it in various terms as representing the relationship between God and his Church or a Christian soul’s desire to be in union with God. Otherwise, it is simply an erotic and sensual portrayal of a woman overwhelmed by passion that has no counterpart.Women dominate in the original poem and this is carried over into this production. Also, like the poem, there is little in terms of plot. Tirzah (Ofra Daniel ) is in a loveless marriage. Her Husband (Matthew Woodyatt) discovers she has an unseen Lover (Joaquin Pedro Valdes). Note that she is the only person to be given a name, further asserting that this work revolves around her. It is about her journey and striving for personal empowerment and freedom of sexual expression. Unless you see is as the development of a woman so besotted by the idea of an idyllic romance that she is driven mad, while having to deal with the ever-judgemental women of Jerusalem. That chorus is made up of accomplished dancers and vocalists Laurel Dougall, Rebecca Giacopazzi, Shira Kravitz and Ashleigh Schuman If women are the main focus of A Song of Songs, then one woman also dominates the production. Ofra Daniel is not only the star of the show she is also its writer, composer and director. While some of the content seems to be variations on a theme, verging on the repetitive, the work as a whole is spectacular and her performance captivating. Her wild, impassioned portrayal of Tirzah is effectively contrasted by Woodyatt’s interpretation of Husband as a dour individual out of touch with his wife. Conversely, Valdes shows the Lover to be handsome, youthful and charming; qualities he employs effectively as a seducer. Valdes also learned mugham, a classical Azerbaijani art form, the vocal aspects of which involve rising pitches of increasing intensity and sounds akin to aspects of flamenco and fado, in modal form as opposed to conventional scales. His command of this is very impressive and adds to the enigmatic nature of his character. With klezmer also thrown into the mix there is a certain incoherence in the blend, given the play’s location, but is works brilliantly and can be forgiven amidst the dramatic vocals and orchestration combined with spectacular choreography from Billy Mitchell which, along with the music, also draws heavily on flamenco, as do the vivid costumes with full skirts and tight bodices that raise the dramatic energy.With musical supervision by Thomas F. Arnold, a highly talented quintet of improvisational musicians, features the renowned Ramon Ruiz on lead flamenco guitar, percussionist Antonio Romero, Ashley Blass on double bass, violinist Amy Price and Daniel Gouly on clarinets who play throughout. Other creatives include lighting designer Aaron J Dootson – who has one particularly wow moment – sound designer Andrew Johnson and set designer Marina Paz – whose simple arrangements make for flexibility and provide a plain backdrop for all the colour of the costumes.With all the elements combined it could be said that A Song of Songs is a musical. It's certainly packed with stunning performances, music and costumes, but it's not in the western tradition to which we are accustomed.

Bribery and corruption, greed and stupidity dominate Nikolai Gogol’s The Government Inspector. Dating from 1836, it’s a play begging to be transformed into our own age as a satirical commentary on the vices that have plagued recent governments and dogged institutions. Yet director and adaptor Patrick Myles misses the opportunity at the Marylebone Theatre in a bizarrely staged farce that might easily portend the pantomime season.Gogol penned a damning indictment of the political establishment and its administrators. What we would now call the right-wing press (ie all the press) were up in arms about it, but Tsar Nicholas I, considering himself to be above those at whom it was aimed, wanted the play staged. On seeing its premiere he declared, "There is nothing sinister in the comedy, as it is only a cheerful mockery of bad provincial officials." It reinforced his contempt for the petty bourgeoisie and exposed them in public.Taken out of Russia, the setting is now a small English town located in an unspecified part of England somewhere north of Watford, to judge by a Brummy and a strong Pennine accent among the indistinguishables, but new location makes some lines from the original seem out of place. Who in England would suggest that a person’s head felt like a Cossack’s hat? Distant London is held in awe by the locals who associate it with a lavish lifestyle far removed from their own mediocre existence. It’s a place where balls are held. If that raises a smirk, then you are in tune with the tone of the production. There are something in the order of four miserable attempts to drain hunour from the word, which are overshadowed only by attempts to make the title Count sound like a well-known four-letter word. Talking of whom, when he finds himself without trousers and is offered a pair of green breeches he is so appalled at having to put them on he proclaims the most distasteful line of the show, that “even a refugee would burn them” rather than wear them, though some found it amusing. The play revolves around two key figures. Gogol’s Russian Mayor is now the Governor of the English backwater, though why he has that utterly unEnglish title remains a mystery, when the country is host to many mayors and the only Governor runs the Bank of England. D.S Mirsky observed that the character “is full of meaningless movement and meaningless fermentation incarnate, on a foundation of placidly ambitious inferiority". Little could he have realised how prophetic his words would be. Dan Skinner as Governor Swashprattle charges onto the stage and shouts his opening lines at breakneck speed, rendering them unintelligible. This over-the-top style is moderated only slightly as the action progresses. He also looks out of place, dressed in a bright red and gold military dress uniform that gives him the appearance of a toy soldier from the nursery floor. Indeed, the costumes throughout give the impression that designer Melanie Jane Brookes opened the wardrobe and the cast were given free rein to grab any period piece they fancied. Her green and gold set, however, looks stunning.Skinner also has the misfortune to deliver the lines that famously break the fourth wall: "What are you laughing about? You are laughing about yourselves!" We should have screamed back, “Oh no we’re not”. Gogol’s history-making words require a pointed and nuanced approach to the script to make any sense and so here the whole business of jumping off the stage to make a direct address seemed ridiculous, but by that point it didn’t seem to matter.Martha Howe-Douglas performs eccentrically, but retains a matronly role as Mrs Swashprattle, longing for an elevated status in life and to part of high society, (she has a thing about balls!) even as she lays herself open to seduction by the man mistakenly believed to be the Inspector, for whom anyone would do anything in order to gain a glowing report. Kiell Smith-Bynoe as Fopdoodle milks this role and certainly appears to be more of a fop than a government official as he swans around in fine clothes. In contrast to all the foolery, Daniel Millar as Fopdoodle’s manservant, Fudgel and Chaya Gupta as Connie, the Swashprattle’s daughter, bring subtlety and a breath of fresh air to their roles in a style of performance that has depth.Gogol intended the play to be a comedy of errors, but surely not in the way it's portrayed here. Myles’ Government Inspector is not so much lost in translation as destroyed in adaptation.

As we sit in the Camden People’s Theatre, a performance of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly is taking place at the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, at least for the purposes this play.We are watching So That You May Go Beyond The Sea. Sitting on opposite sides of the auditorium are Joey Jepps and Gabriele Uboldi. They are the cast of two and the joint playwrights, who are also real-life partners Joey and Gabs who met by arrangement on Primrose Hill and are now engaged. From their sedentary position they begin to explain that 2256 people are about to leave the Opera House and file onto the tube. One of them shouts an oriental, racist abuse at Joey, who is Anglo-Japanese and was born in Hong Kong. That person had been watching an Italian Opera, featuring white performers playing Asian roles with make-up designed to make them look generically oriental. By chance, Gabriele is a white Italian.This show is a direct response to such productions of Madama Butterfly and is a true story. It began twenty-five years ago when a Japanese stewardess and a British pilot walked onto a plane. They fall in love and Joey and are still together. There is none of the tragedy here that comes to dominate Madama Butterfly, just a simple parallel between Cio Cio San, and Lieutenant Pinkerton. As Joey delves into his past we hear recordings of conversations he had with his mother about her romance and issues of Asian misrepresentation, orientalism and exoticisation. This raises questions about the nature of his relationship with Gabs. Do the same concerns underpin and indeed could they undermine their relationship? A complex series of scenes emerge in which this and much more is explored in a conversational manner that tells of the making of this play, their original intentions and the revisions that took place en route to the finished product.This cleverly devised metatheatrical work is rich in audio recordings, video clips, photographs, and a set-designer scale model of a grand stage with toy figures representing all the characters mentioned so far. Both performances are relaxed, engaging and humorous. The casual tone of a chat show pervades but it’s interspersed with character performances and backed up by a team of imaginative creatives: Set & Lighting Designer Cheng Keng; Sound Designer Rudy Percival; Video Designer Douglas Baker; Dramaturg Max Percy and Stage Manager Vivi Wei.There are also some serious points in this light-hearted, engaging drama. Not least that to be a spectator is to be complicit; if we simply go along with what confronts us then we are consenting to it. It’s incumbent on everyone to challenge the person who utters racist abuse.

Christopher Sainton-Clark, the sole actor in A Year and a Day, founded Raising Cain Productions in 2021 ‘with the aim of producing bold, innovative and cinematic small-scale theatre that provokes thought and entertains in equal measure'.His performance at New Wimbledon Theatre Studio fulfilled that ambition admirably. He’s an inventive storyteller who is creating an ‘anthology of bedtime stories for grown ups’, called The Book at the End of the Shelf. They range from 13-21 minutes, so theoretically are ideal for a short pe-slumber listen. However, they come with a warning that they ‘are sure to keep you up at night!’ He adds that ‘some are dark, some are funny, some are downright gory’ and that you should make sure any children you have are not within earshot. Their originality is combined subtle verse form that heightens their flow and gives them an air of being taken from history.A Year and a Day is one of those stories and has Gothic overtones. This extended version of around one hour is the chance to hear the strange events that befell a lad called Nathan and see Sainton-Clark give an impassioned performance full of physicality and energy. The weird narrative tells of the boy born in Ireland in 1933, now aged 25 in 1958, or so you would think, and spans 65 years. His mother was a weaver; his father unemployed, but both are now dead. His girlfriend, Elsie, lives in the village, along with all the lads who are a bad influence on Nathan. What starts out as petty criminality escalates to a botched heist after which he has to be on his guard for gang members who are after him. That’s less difficult than it might seem, though his day of reckoning does come eventually. One day, while on the heath with Elsie, a blinding light envelopes him and he disappears for a year and a day. When he returns he has no knowledge or recollection of his absence and so is shocked to discover how events have moved on without him. But then, when he falls asleep that night, it happens again, and that pattern recurs, making him a man of 90, who hasn’t aged, and gives him little time to right his wrongs.Sainton-Clark creates many characters each with their own idiosyncrasies and voice, mostly from around Ireland, but also England, where the story ends up. Speaking to him after the show he tells of the time a man told him he needed to work on his English accent, which he took as a huge compliment for the quality of his Irish accent given that he’s from Norfolk.With no set and just a bag, his presence fills the stage and the fascinating and captivating tale offers food for thought on how we often take our lives our time and our and our relationships for granted.Link: The Book at the End of the Shelf

Bryony Lavery’s Frozen embraces difficult issues and circumstances. A bereaved mother, a psychiatrist who has lost her partner and a paedophile serial killer are brought together to explore the many questions that start with “Why?”Director James Haddrell, along with a highly talented team of creatives and a well-chosen cast, has risen to the occasion,with a wonderfully imaginative staging of a challenging text. Having decided to use the revolve, designer Alex Milledge has divided it into two halves with a translucent partition along its diameter. One half is the home of Nancy (Kerrie Taylor), who is initially engaged in her garden. She believes that her ten-year-old daughter Rhona has disappeared and will be found or return, particularly as her birthday is approaching and missing people often turn up on that occasion. As the set rotates we meet Ralph (James Bradshaw) and discover that there is no chance of Rhona ever returning. Behind him we see Nancy through the screen continuing her daily routines, a device that powerfully reminds us that these stories are being told contemporaneously and that life goes on for both of them.Meanwhile, in New York City, Agnetha (Indra Ové) is preparing for the dreaded prospect of a flight to meet with Ralph and Nancy. Her first two scenes are cleverly staged in the auditorium; initially making the aisle her home and then a seat in the stalls her place on the plane. When she arrives her office is to the side of the stage. As an accomplished criminal psychologist she is heavily invested in exploring and explaining Ralph’s mind and in examining the effects of the situation on Nancy and how she relates to Ralph.Much of Act I consists of monologues, with the three characters isolated from each other as they bring aspects of their lives into the public domain. Taylor captures the many emotional states through which Nancy passes. She potters around her garden believing all will be well; laments the loss with anguished rage; grapples with trying to understand what has happened and finally contemplates forgiveness as a way of moving forward. Bradshaw’s performance is a fascinating portrayal of a man who has never known normality as most of us would understand it, yet sees himself as nothing out of the ordinary. Beaten and abused by stepfathers and thrown in the sink by his complicit mother, he has a treasured collection of child pornography, about which he boasts and protests that the only thing wrong with killing children is that the law makes it illegal. This is his personal normal and Bradshaw portrays it with calm rationality, with no hint of the vicious acts he is capable of committing, until towards the end when the emotions break through and he has to reconcile himself to what he has done and choose a way forward or out of his chosen life. Ové faces a different challenge. She vividly reveals Agnetha’s emotional distress at the loss of a lifetime friend. However, the script gives her pages of analytical lecture material to deliver on the criminal brain, which is interesting but despite being delivered with academic verve tends to be too much information. What she grasps are the manners and tones for dealing with both a bereaved serial child killer.Lighting Designer Henry Slater and Sound Design Liam McDermott both do an outstanding job in heightening moods and providing symbolic and at times startling visuals and effects, revealing the extent to which this demanding production is a team effort.

Baby Lamb Productions have scored another success with their latest production, Robin Hood (that sick f**k) at the Bread and Roses Theatre.The title should indicate that this is not a show for youngsters, but it has all the ingredients that make children’s shows so endearing and simplistically funny. It doesn’t reach the level of outrageous hilarity achieved by their previous production, The Emperor’s New Clothes, but it is a further example and development of a theatrical genre they are calling ‘pantomime-noir’ and its refreshingly original. In an age of navel-gazing introspection, obsessed with indentity, sex and gender, this comes as a breath of fresh air. It’s a show that would provide a period of light relief in any theatre’s programme, whatever the season, and appeal to a wide demographic. The play has music, but rather than going down the now laboured route of creating yet another musical, the show is limited to three delightful and amusing songs with an opening number reprise to round it off. There are even opportunities to join in. Composition is by Ashok Gupta and Oliver Moyles, with lyrics devised by the cast.The beaming Ashok Gupta (Robin) peeps from behind the curtain, looks out, checks the forest is clear and is joined by his band of Merry Men. (That’s what they are always know as, by the way, lest someone unfamiliar with the story thinks I’ve made a pronoun gaffe, given that in this case his outlaws are not exclusively male. But as far as I’m aware no one has suggested the non-alliterative Merry Theys……yet.) They launch into the leg-kicking opening number that itemises Robin’s many crimes and explains why the Sheriff of Nottingham (Hannah McLeod) is after him. This is not the traditional beyond-reproach Robin, though he does still rob the rich and give to the poor; occasionally. Or as they have rephrased it, he ‘steals from the greedy and gives it the needy’. Then we are transported from the late twelfth century to a modern-day incident room. The black curtains with the dangling leaves and flowers are swept aside and the white-board is pulled out. The map of Nottinghamshire mounted on its surface has pins indicating where bodies have been found, pictures of the prime suspects and his known accomplices and lines of red string joining incident spots together. The set’s simplicity works efficiently and effectively as officers gather to track down the notorious villain.The ensemble cast now embarks on a series of rapid changes as they take on numerous roles. Gupta appears in the news reporting and crime investigation team, as does Sasha Brooks who also plays the love-lorn Maid Marian. Jacob Baird takes on two contrasting but equally hilarious roles as an unworthy Father Tuck and the none-too-competent Irish police constable, Peter Connell. Amongst the mayhem Alexandra Monroe, along with several other roles, plays the calm and rational stereotypical secretary with laptop. Called in to unravel why this enquiry has been going on for over ten years with no results, Nisha Emich plays the alluring officer sent from head office to sort out the local incompetence. What she hadn’t bargained for is the seductive Detective Inspective Guy Gisborne. The handsome Janik Rajapakse ouzes ego, poses in ways that suggest he has a very high opinion of himself and exudes misguided charm in his failed attempt to impress. Amusingly he doubles as Willy in Robin’s camp.The script, which is full of witty humour, silly jokes, double entendres and smutty suggestions, was written by the cast and imaginatively directed by Hannah McLeod with fervent pace. Let’s hear it for pantomime-noir (a genre you never knew you needed) and hope that other theatres come to appreciate its merits.

Connor Sparrowhawk died this morning. He tells us so in the opening line of Stephen Unwin’s revealing play, Laughing Boy, at Jermyn Street Theatre. But it didn't have to be.The play is an adaptation of the book, Justice for Laughing Boy, written by his mother, Sara Ryan, an academic specialising in learning disabilities and autism. Connor was a fun-loving, adorable boy with a passion for life, London buses, Eddie Stobbart Lorries and Lego, amongst other things. He lived with his family for eighteen years, during which time his autism and learning difficulties were just part of his being Connor. Then he started to have outbursts of aggression and soon his unpredictable violence became too much to handle at home. On the recommendation of a friend, his mother placed him in Slade House Assessment and Treatment Unit, Oxfordshire, run by Southern Health, a NHS Trust. He survived only 107 days there before being found dead in his bath following an epileptic seizure.Both an inquest and inquiry found a catalogue of failures and shortcomings that contributed to death, which was avoidable. This is all revealed in the play, along with the campaign for justice led by his mther through the organisation FLAME. There is a lot of material at an informative level but it’s balanced by the tenderness and love of Connor’s family in contrast to the cold, detached responses of those trying to escape blame and save themselves.Five actors, Lee Braithwaite, Charlie Ives, Forbes Masson, Molly Osborne and Daniel Rainford form an ensemble who remain on stage throghout and take on numerous roles adopting a range of accents and creating easily identifiable characters. In an endearing performance, Alfie Friedman beautifully portrays Connor’s youthfulness, enthusiasm for life and sense of what is right, while Janie Dee, as his mothe, runs the gamut of emotions that would befall any mother who had lost her son, but also reveals the woman of guts and determination who takes on the establishment and eventually wins.A simple set of just some chairs leaves space in this tiny setting for plenty of movement and grouping. A white arc of screen forms a backdrop from one side of the stage to the other. Against this, an array of lighting, projections and video footage form an enhancing addition to the story. Credit for this to designer Simon Higlett, with lighting design by Ben Omerod, sound design by Holly Khan, video design by Matt Powell and SFX design by Anna Wood.Laughing Boy, tells of the death of the eponymous hero, but is in many ways a joyous celebration of his life; of change brought about for the benefit of others and the power of unrelentingly fighting for justice; an engaging blend of tragedy and triumph.

Artistic Director and Founder of London Classic Theatre, Michael Cabot opened the company’s touring production of Joe Orton’s What The Butler Saw at the Devonshire Park Theatre, Eastbourne, last week With a seating capacity of around 900 the ornate, late 19th century theatre is somewhat oversized for Orton’s last play and with the stalls filled to only half capacity, at the most, the proscenium stage seemed rather distant for a work that benefits from a degree of intimacy. Bek Palmer’s set is a spectacular work of art, with hints of imagery from Monty Python’s opening sequence, and Daliesque surrealism. It’s a stunning abstract sight in vibrant colours to be greeted by on entering the auditorium. Then the realisation sinks in that it is detached from the late 1960s realism of a psychiatrist’s office that the play requires.Orton described the play as a ‘farce’, a modus operandi that runs throughout and reaches a fast-paced, rapidly-changing climax in its bonkers denouement. It also fits into the category of black comedy. The essence of both genres lies in the actors believing that the bizarre behaviour they display is normal; that tangential ripostes are part of normal conversation and that their skewed perspectives on everyday life are only to be expected. John Dorney sets the tone as Doctor Prentice as he attempts to seduce his prospective new secretary, Geraldine Barclay, as part of the interview process that requires the removal of clothes. Alana Jackson,gives a suitably compliant and gullible performance. His scheme is foiled with the entrance of Mrs Prentice. Holly Smith captures the excesses of this gushing and overwhelming character who is being willingly seduced and less comfortably blackmailed by Nicholas Beckett, a situation that gives Alex Cardall the opportunity to display menacingly lustful and criminal intentions. The plot and multiple subplots become increasingly complex as the play progresses. Next, Doctor Rance, the Government Inspector appears to investigate reported goings-on at the clinic and gather material for his latest book. Jack Lord is appropriately dour in this role and also revels in revealing the rather suspect mind and interests of the Doctor. "The final chapters of my book are knitting together: incest, buggery, outrageous women and strange love-cults catering for depraved appetites. All the fashionable bric-a-brac." The clinic provides plenty of material. Eventually the police become involved and Jon-Paul Rowden gives a classic performance of the none-too-bright Sergeant Match, steeped in the style of language used only by members of the force. By then the question as to who is sane and who is mad and the extent to which the inmates have taken over the prison looms large.It’s a production packed with energy and pace, but there is a sense that it’s early days for this show and that a greater degree of internalisation of the characters might be forthcoming along with a heightened awareness of their stakes in the proceedings that takes it above the level of a ludicrous and very funny romp.It’s hard to appreciate the nature of the play as it would have appeared to audiences at its first performance in March 1969, some eighteen months after Orton’s death; shocking, radical, perhaps obscene, an affront to the establishment and a challenge to the albeit slowly changing morality of the day. Themes such gender identity, sexual activity and adultery are now commonplace, as is the lack of reverence for and questioning of those in authority, but that was not the case over half a century ago.Orton’s writing was groundbreaking in its day and still ranks as amongst the finest in its class. It’s a joy to see that it’s being kept alive for today’s audiences.

Stan’s Cafe Theatre, Birmingham, is rooted in the community, so it's no surprise that they have taken the local story of Trevor Prince, a gospel guitarist and one of the first black police officers in the West Midlands, who passed away in 2019, as the stimulus for their latest production, Community Service, with text developed by Artistic Director James Yarker along with the company and directed by him with Reisz Amos and Steady Steadman.It's the 1980s and social unrest is rising in Thatcher’s Britain. Trevor King (Reisz Amos) decides he can best help his community by joining the police force, where people of colour are not just underrepresented but almost non-existent. Over the course of two hours, we journey with him as Community Service develops into an action-packed kaleidoscope of social interactions drawn from his multifaceted life that presents challenges on multiple fronts. Scene and costume changes abound as locations are created and revisited and the cast take on multiple roles. Full marks to Jhalesa Hewitt, who with Kay Wilton manages a vast wardrobe and Company Stage Manager Immy Wood and Technical Stage Manager Mya Forde for holding this together. We become immersed in an array of social interactions around the neighbourhood as we dash from home life to school kids on park benches, to officers patrolling the beat and to the local police station, where we witness chilling examples of endemic racism. The Handsworth riots and the miners’ strike become part of the narrative with slow-motion fight sequences spectacularly choreographed by Movement Director Paul ‘Steady’ Steadman. Conflict of a different kind emerges between two rival churches, as leaders and the family become involved in a debate about what sort of music God listens to, whether he might be offended by Bob Marley and whose music you should let your children play, as the sacred and the secular battle for supremacy. The latter stands as an example of the many pressures felt by traditional immigrant families as their children become immersed in contemporary British culture and attempt to take on the styles of their peers. We are also given insight into the conflicting pressures that King feels as he tries to reconcile his belief that it’s better for his community to have a member working on the inside of the police force than it is to stand on the outside condemning its often negative actions and attitudes towards minorities. Each of these forms a thread that runs through Community Service that is woven into a dramatic tapestry of events presented via the remarkable talents and versatility of actors Kianyah Caesar-Downer, Tinashe Darikwa, Yasmin Dawes and Dominic Thompson.Throughout, the action is enhanced by the live band. However, the music and songs are not just an accompaniment that aids the flow of events, but are an essential and vibrant element at the heart of the play and are fully integrated into the storyline.The ensemble consists of Ashleigh Hepburn, Jamael Jarrett and CJ Thompson, led by Musical Director Reisz Amos (AKA Oddpriest) who ring the changes of traditional gospel music and reggae, that highlights the family’s Jamaican heritage, along with other popular genres. Further enhancing dimensions are added to the production by the Lighting Design, courtesy of Nigel Edwards, Projection Design from Michael Ellis and Graphic Design by Simon Ford. At this matinee, in the Belgrade Theatre, Coventry’s B2 studio. Hyacinth Powell gave an energetic BSL Interpretation that was a gripping performance in its own right.There's a lot to take in. A couple of scenes in act two give some respite from the ever-changing settings and allow for greater depth to emerge in the story that contrasts to the earlier predominantly snapshot style. Perhaps some careful editing and restructuring of some scenes could enhance this aspect of a lengthy show. Overall Community Service is a testament to the power of collaborative working and multi-disciplinary theatre that draws on those who serve the community.

What an extraordinary and charming play this is, courtesy of De Insomniis Theatre. From the intriguing title to the remarkable story and the sincere performances, Besa captivates in such a way that any weaknesses or shortcomings are easily easily forgiven and in many cases they become endearing features that add to the rustic simplicity of the piece.Elona Gagani is the company’s founder and artistic director. Born in Albania, she grew up in Florence. Hence she wrote Besa in her first language, Italian, and then translated into Albanian and English. It is based on the brave actions of her grandfather who rescued Jewish refugees escaping from Greece in WWII.It’s 1943, and the predominantly Muslim Albanian population has refused to comply with the orders of the occupying forces to hand over Jews who have fled there for safety. What the Germans have not taken into account is the centuries old tradition of besa, that is deeply rooted in the mindset of the people. It’s a difficult concept to define, but it brings together the ideas of faith and action in a code of honour that must be obeyed and acted upon.The upstairs theatre at the Drayton Arms provides a suitably confined setting in which to create the sparsely furnished yet intimate home. Here the family gathers and we witness the teasing friction between brother and sister Agimi (Laurent Zhubi) and Merusha (Loresa Leka), who is studying medicine. Meanwhile, Elenor Gagani takes the role of their mother, who focuses on feeding the family and passing on the traditions of their culture, especially when it comes to marriage. Her husband, Besim (Klodian Merriman), somewhat more strictly admonishes the children for their antagonistic behaviour towards each other. Together, he and his wife strive to maintain peace between their son and daughter.He is also explains to his children the responsibilities that besa places upon them, when a Jewish brother and sister, Jakov (Ethan Richardson) and Sandra (Shiri Noa) arrive in town in search of a safe haven. This is also the cue for a developing love story between Merusha and Jakov who increasingly usurps the position of Flamuri (Laurent Zhubi, doubling in this role), who is madly in love with Merusha, but whose amorous advances are not reciprocated. A safe passage to the USA, via Italy, is found for the Jewish refugees, but not before a major tragedy strikes, while the romances are resolved with the passage of time.Performances are mixed, but this is essentially an ensemble work with a profound message, and those performing in their second or third language with an array of accents bring a sense of location to the piece that might otherwise be lacking. A couple of things don’t work particularly well. The elements of physical theatre sit uncomfortably in this otherwise naturalistic play and add nothing to the story. As my friend said, “Dancing with chairs is to be avoided at all costs”. Other movement sequences seem redundant and the mourning scene over the coffin, when we already know of the person’s death, is overstretched. With just a little more editing the play could run smoothly in one act, the disruptive interval could be scrapped and the events could run and with heightened intensity. What adds enormously to the mood is Cleo Queene, the solo violinist, who uses the instrument’s lower register to hauntingly accompany the story with tunes rooted in the region.Besa is an uplifting play that demonstrates how life could be if only all nations had the code of honour that in this case brought Muslim Albanians and Jews together and enabled them to toast each other in peace with “Gëzuar” and “L'chaim”. This, in a devastatingly divided region riddled with generations of conflict rooted in ethnic and religious differences. It also the highlights the plight of refugees, reminding us that migration in such circumstances is not a luxury but a necessity in the struggle to survive.

It all starts off so nicely, but it’s not long before Nina Atesh’s drawing-room drama turns into a battleground of conflicts that resurrect the past, fight for the present and attempt to claim the future. The play might be called Horne’s Descent, but at times they all hit the depths and those who survive to win the days comes as something of a surprise.If you enjoy asking yourself, “How’s this going to end?” as you attempt to unravel the carnage of verbal bombardment unwinding in front of you, then this might well be your sort of play. Others might find it ultimately too mysterious or far-fetched depending on the level at which you think it should be interpreted. Either way, what at first seems to be a simple piece of period theatre ultimately winds its way to a denouement worthy of Gothic horror.It’s January 1920. Peter Horne (Alexander Hackett) is newly ordained. (Here's a opportunity to toy with plots, intermittently throw in the idea that he isn’t ordained but has just thrown that into the mix as a wind-up). He spent the war years fighting in the trenches with his fellow working class cannon fodder and managed to survive. Albert Palmer (Magnus Gordon) his aristocratic childhood friend, could have easily arranged a commission for him through his titled father, but Horne stuck to his roots, not even telling Palmer he had gone to serve. They had no contact with each other for six years. Palmer has rooms in the posh London house of Etta Florence (Cici Clarke), a woman whose looks belie her years, and her niece, the attractive young socialite Mary Florence (Bethany Slater). They are all flawed individuals. Horne’s commitment to the priesthood is questionable, his youth was chequered and he relishes deliberately winding people up and having the odd rage. Palmer lacks control of his drinking, revels in his privileged status, is foolishly in love with Mary and also has aggressive outbursts. Etta swans around in a world if not quite of the occult one that is certainly full demons, strange powers and animistic curiosity; all of which provides ample material to rile any priest, which she enjoys doing. Mary, while not of similar persuasion, does nothing to stifle Etta’s beliefs. She is aware of her beauty and social class and open to being seduced at the drop of hat. The casting is successful works and each member creates a well-defined character portrayed in a solid performance. The confines of the Red Lion, Islington are ideally suited to this intense dialogue and claustrophobic atmosphere. Miranda Cattermole’s detailed period parlour with the chairs, chaise longue, drinks table and gramophone, covers most of what little space there is, but she left enough room for the ladies to parade her elegant and colourful cocktail dresses. She scores a double triumph. Director Chloe Cattin manages to find enough room to navigate the cast around the furniture without getting into awkward manoeuvres or head-on collisions. Meanwhile, the air is rife with vitriol and biting conversation as things don’t go the way Palmer had hoped and the past begins to reveal itself. But look out. Conversely, it might be going very much along the lines the ladies planned, despite their protestations. But just what are they up to? As the denouement approaches the stakes rise along with the element of mystery and level of confusion as to what precisely is happening. It’s all very interesting rather that gripping and on reflection there is a tendency to simply ask, “What was that all about?” You decide.

Hanif Kureishi’s adaptation of his screenplay for My Beautiful Laundrette was at the Liverpool Playhouse as part of its UK tour, courtesy of the Theatre Nation Partnerships convened by the National Theatre. His script remains strong, but the production is far removed from the 1985 film's powerful exploration of interracial gay romance and racial tension directed by Stephen Frears that received and an Academy Award nomination and two nominations for BAFTA Awards.The Laundrette is owned by Nasser (Kammy Darweish), but it’s currently run down, perhaps partly due to the time he spends having an affair with Rachel (Emma Brown). He sees the Laundrette’s transformation as a major business opportunity for his nephew, Omar (Lucca Chadwick-Patel), a young British Pakistani, who is filled with enthusiasm for the challenge. That doesn’t carry over into Nasser’s other plan, that Omar should marry his daughter, Tania (Sharan Phull). ;The families are living in London during Thatcher's premiership; years that brought success for some and hardship for others. Omar’s father, Papa (Gordon Warnecke, who played Omar in the film), once a significant fighter in Pakistani politics, is dispirited by the times. He has turned to alcohol as an escape and relies on Omar to look after him, his wife being deceased. Salim (Hareet Deol), on the other hand, who works for Nasser, has taken full advantage of the rising drugs scene and is running a lucrative dealership.It was a period of racial tension and rising opposition to the number of immigrants entering the country and those already established communities. (Nothing changes!) Omar, although born in the country, still falls victim to skin-head gangs out on a spree of “Paki-bashing”. Led by the aggressive Genghis (Paddy Daly), accompanied by Moose (a role in which Emma Brown very successfully doubles) they count the seemingly less committed Johnny (Sam Mitchell) among their ranks. When the gang approaches Omar he recognises Johnny, whom he’d known at school, speaks to him and manages to diffuse the situation. Their friendship is rekindled and Johnny joins in the Laudrette’s renovation. Slowly a romance develops between them, leaving Omar to face his family and Johnny to deal with the gang. What should be a powerfully engaging social drama is strewn with weaknesses. Grace Smart’s set, in predominantly dreary shades grey if great is difficult to interpret A wall winds its way around the stage but looks as though it has been hewn out of rock. Integrated washing machines are matched by freestanding ones and an ever-moving flexible multi-level gantry provides a vehicle for scene creations. The thrill of the brightly illuminated shop that appears in Act II is diminished because its unlit neon arch can be seen looming above the wall throughout. Meanwhile, the rigs for Ben Cracknell’s lighting hangs visibly from aloft, detracting from the naturalism of the play. Music by Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe, interwoven into Tom Marshall’s sound design is great to listen to, but does no more than remind that we are in the era of the Pet Shop Boys.The lack of chemistry between the would-be lovers seriously detracts from the credibility of their relationship, despite the random bouts of kissing, and they mange to reduce the famous two-way mirror sex scene to a comic turn. While Chadwick-Patel fairs well in some scenes with his family, Mitchell never seems out of place in all settings. Meanwhile Darweish and Warnecke rarely infuse the script with any conviction and Deol seems isolated in an intervening storyline of his own. While the casting in those cases is questionable, there are some exceptions. Daly gives an energetic and chilling performance that reveals the extent to which which skinheads were a threat to safety on the streets and how their mindset posed a risk to an integrated society. Phull and Brown brighten up the production with vibrant performances. Phull express the inner conflicts and frustrations of a young woman trying to reconcile the opportunities and freedom of life in British society with the traditional restrictions and expected conformity within her own culture. Brown, meanwhile, has no problems with brazenly being the ‘other woman’.It’s a production riddled with weaknesses that director Nicole Behan doesn't seem to have a grip on and as such is a major disappointment.

To stage Les Misérables is a massive undertaking for any theatre company, but Director Ben Jeffreys has consummately risen to the challenge with a production of the School’s Edition at Westcliff High School for Boys. This production is more than worthy of anything students at a musical theatre school might produce. Shivers ran not just down my spine but through my body for almost the whole of Act One along with tear-jerking moments that followed through into Act Two.As with most shows the end product is the culmination of extraordinary teamwork, and more so in a school production, where everyone is putting on the show in addition to full-time study, teaching or other jobs. Drama is not on the formal curriculum, but Jeffreys, who is Head of History, has run an after-school drama club for the last eight years. He puts on at least three shows a year, amassing a total of twenty-five since he started in 2016. That is a tribute to the energy and drive that combines with his passionate belief in the importance of drama in giving young people opportunities and skills.He has a cast of thirty-eight to manage and, watching from the balcony, it was easy to appreciate his directorial creativity, theatrical imagination and choreographic eye from the outset; the convicts, normally a chain gang of labourers, are instead twenty-four rowers in the galley of a French naval vessel with a series of motifs made into a grand opening number with an impressive “wow” factor.Once on stage, the backbone of any musical is the orchestra. Musical Director Mr Wood, an Old Boy of the School, conducts an accomplished band of sixteen, mostly students, with some adults who have connections to the school, in a manner that ensures the pace of the show never falters.The performance takes place in the School Hall, which has an adequate stage that has been extended by the guys at 1159 Productions, but affords little space behind the flats and no wing space. The challenge this presents is made all the greater given the number of beautifully crafted sets that are wheeled on and off, courtesy of Spotlight Productions, who also excel with the costumes and props. Mr G. Marlow handles the construction of the barricades elegantly, whilst Sound by Jamie Mather and Lighting by PikeLights completes the staging.Jeffreys is blessed with a remarkably talented group of twenty-three students who take on the named parts. Edmund Griffiths (Bishop of Digne) sets the standard high in a lyrical and sensitive rendition of his prologue song following the theft of the silver. Jacob Guyler, in what turns out to be a commanding performance, then breaks into Jean Valjean’s What Have I Done?, an emotionally charged opening number in which he captures the convict’s bitterness about the past and anger at his current predicament, together with his resolve that Another Story Must Begin! Indeed it does, but perhaps not the one he has in mind. Guyler goes on to vividly portray Valjean's angst in the midst of a moral dilemma (Who Am I?), but still finds time to help Fauchelevant (Peter Nimalan) when threatened by Javert.The big chorus number, At The End Of The Day, exposes the plight of the poor, epitomised by Factory Girl Five (Isla Rodel), and the power of those in charge in through The Foreman (Jacob Mellor), Fantine (Mia Cater) emerges and her story of an abandoned single mother turned prostitute is revealed. Then the music tones down and we await with baited breath for the Susan Boyle moment as Cater, in melancholy reflection, looks back on what might have been with I Dreamed A Dream; and, as they say on The X Factor, “She nailed it” and the tissues came out.Now, the story becomes increasingly complex with plots, subplots and the passage of time, all interwoven with Claude-Michel Schönberg’s signature style of repeated musical motifs and the many famous songs.The reality of life in the docks returns with misogynistic avengeance in Lovely Ladies, with the likes of Old Crone (Freddie Cathan) and Bamatabois (Ronnie Hardy) and the chorus. Inspector Javert reappears after his brief introduction in the Prologue, determined to see Valjean re-arrested. Rafael Gamma gives a well-crafted, darkly menacing, sinister and vengeful portrayal of this sad man, though he manages to come over as a much smoother individual, if still full of malice, in Stars. Lighter melodies follow from Cater and Guyler as Fantine lies on her death bed (Come To Me) and Young Cosette (Sophie Cleave) follows with a sweet rendition of Castle On A Cloud, that is interrupted by interjections from her keeper, Madame Thenardier, whose aggressive and rather unpleasant nature is captured effectively by Edith Jefferson. Light relief comes from her husband. It’s strange that a murderous, money-grabbing informant has such a comically entertaining scene but Gabriel Williams in full song and dance routine mode proves highly amusing as the innkeeper in Master of the House and the master of faux sorrow in the Thenardier Waltz. Meanwhile, Sam Skeels seizes the opportunity for a fine piece of characterisation as Gavroche, the son whom they threw out. He grew up as a street urchin whereas Harley Cleave as Young Eponine, has the joy of being their spolied daughter who learns the tricks of the family.The revolutionary period now comes to the fore as the scene moves to the ABC cafe where conspirators of various backgrounds meet. Further interesting individuals emerge with the actors creating well defined characters for each: Sebastian Puddick (Combeferre), Oliver Street (Feuilly) Joseph Galvin (Enjolras) Alexander Miller (Joly), Noah Bettis (Grantaire), Conor Lynch-Wyatt (Marius) and William Holley (Prouvaire). The culmination of their revolutionary planning comes with the stirring Do You Hear The People Sing?.Alice Morgan, as the grown-up Cosette continues the show with a suitably lugubrious rendition of In My Life as she is joined by, Valjean, the papa she never had, Marius, who expresses his love for her and Éponine (Emma Clarke). Clarke carefully balances the multifaceted aspects of Eponine’s character of the girl who was as nasty as her parents, the Thenardiers. She is in love with Maruis, and jealous of Cosette. Their intertwined relationships are brought out in s a delightful rendition of the trio A Heart Full of Love. Several characters continue the plotting in Plumet Attack which leads into the fabulously grand Act-One-closing chorus number, One Day More.Clarke opens up the second half with Eponine’s impassioned On My Own and not long after Guyler tearfully delivers a deeply moving Bring Him Home. Meanwhile Javert is battling with his conscious and inability to live with the events of his life. Gamma mentally wrestles his way through the man’s tragic demise before committing suicide. Marius and Cosette have a joyous wedding before we move forward to Valjean's natural death and Guyler’s peaceful song of farewell.No show would be complete without a rousing ending including some short reprises and Les Mis is no exception. All that remained was for us all to rise and give this production a very well deserved standing ovation.

Harry McDonald’s Foam, at the Finborough Theatre, is a chronological series of snapshots that capture events in the life of Nicky Crane (1958-1993). If you wondering who he was, join the club. Not that is should be necessary, but if you swat up on his life you will understand far more of the play.The five scenes take place in April 1974, June 1978, September 1988, August 1990 and November 1993. For those who didn’t live through the period it’s also worth acquiring some background to the social and political context in which he grew up. In April 1968 Enoch Powell, the Conservative MP for Wolverhampton and Shadow Secretary of State for Defence, gave what became known as the Rivers of Blood speech. Powell was an outstanding academic and his speeches were often riddled with allusions, references and imagery rooted in the Classics, which he had read at Trinity College, Cambridge. On this occasion he drew on a prophecy from Virgil's Aeneid, from which the title of the play is derived. “As I look ahead, I am filled with foreboding; like the Roman, I seem to see 'the River Tiber foaming with much blood'”. The body of his speech struck a chord with those who felt their country was being overrun by an almost open-door policy towards immigrants from Commonwealth countries. It fuelled the flames of racial hatred and it cost him his job. But the scholar had spoken for the masses and it opened up the floodgates to a wave of racism not encountered since the antisemitism of the brown shirts and the Battle of Cable Street. In particular his speech appealed to a growing number in the skinhead movement who were attracted to a neo-Nazi philosophy.The series of vignettes, explores the often complex relationship between homosexuality, the skinhead movement and right wing (fascist) politics as Nicky (Jake Richards) encounters individuals from various walks of life. Aged fifteen, he has been followed into a public lavatory, cruising territory with which he is already familiar. He spends some time (too long) shaving his head. A much older man enters who has been stalking the boy. He’s called Mosley. With the moustache, Matthew Baldwin bears a certain facial resemblance to Sir Oswald Mosley (1896-1980), founder and leader of the British Union of Fascists and speaks in a similar manner, which is painfully slow. Director Matthew Iliffe clearly chose to play this entire scene in a ponderous lentissimo. It generates an exploratory air as Mosley questions Nicky about about his beliefs, commitments and habits, but makes for an agonisingly tedious opening whose effects are difficult to shrug off, even though the pace picks up in the following scenes.With his new Dr Martens, a gift from Mosley, who seductively licks them before handing them to him, he is ready to go into the world and especially to a club recommended by Mosley for boys like him. Over the remaining scenes, Richards convincingly transforms himself from schoolboy, to punk rocker, to gay porn performer, to bouncer in a gay bar and finally to the man on his death bed with an AIDS related condition; all via a four-year term in prison. Richards gives a strong performance in which he embraces a wide emotional range, a number of ages and a development of character. These scenes all take place in various lavatories, with a curtain pulled over the toilets for the final hospital episode. The set, by Nitin Parmar, is starkly simplistic yet powerfully representative of a immaculately well-sanitised public convenience, complete with that special style of white tiles. It’s given a less-than-realistic warm purplish/pink hue, by Jonathan Chan’s lighting design, which makes it seem camp enough for a later conversion to a cocktail bar. Needing no conversion, Gabriel is the subject of a seduction scene, which establishes the play’s gay credentials, while Chris, a fellow actor, spots Nick's Nazi tattoos and so declines to socialise with him but would gladly have sex with him. Both parts are played by Kishore Walker who successfully creates two distinct characters across the gay spectrum. With his impressive height and physique, chequered past and moments of violence, Nicky stands out and is recognised by Bird (Keanu Adolphus Johnson) who commands this next scene with his anti-fascist tirade that does more than the others to expose Nicky for who he is and the tightrope he walks. He later plays the nurse in the hospital scene where Baldwin reappears, this time as Nicky’s partner, emotionally tormented, angry and compassionate.With a weak opening and some parts of the scenes that seem redundant, Foam is interesting rather than gripping. The hospital conclusion, although historically accurate, has had a place in so many plays that it comes across as no more than yet another unimaginative version of what we’ve seen so many times before. If you know about the life of Nicky Crane, then there is perhaps some appeal in seeing it staged in this format, which must omit so much. If you know nothing of him, Foam, is simply a rather odd collection of scenes.

It’s refreshing to see a much-visited subject of bullying and homophobia in a world dominated by social media, given a fresh treatment that is both innovative and extraordinary, but that is what Italian writer Tobia Rossi has done in Hide and Seek, translated and directed by Carlotta Brentan at the Park Theatre.Gio (Loris Scarpa), has been an outsider all his life, believing that he not accepted by anyone around him, be they his parent, teachers or classmates. He endures the claustrophobia of small-town Italy and the entrenched prejudice towards anyone who seems different, especially if that is being gay. Unable to endure further he retreats to hiding in cave. He takes some minimal supplies, blankets and ominous pillows. Despite the depth of the cave and its isolated location, his popular classmate Mirko (Nico Cetrulo) discovers him. The question now is, “What to do?” Mirko is a sympathetic listener. Gio is determined not to have his location revealed, despite being informed of his mother’s anguish and the media frenzy surrounding his disappearance. Should Mirko betray him or support him? Even without an initial clear intention, he becomes embroiled in Gio’s scheme; at first just going along with it and then becoming proactive in sustaining his detachment from the world. Underlying the development in that plot is Gio's obvious infatuation with Mirko and the initial tentative reaction from Mirko that increasingly reveals his own homosexual curiosity, that develops into an unnerving desire for control and domination.The cave is suggestively captured by Constance Comparot in a minimalist set whose eeriness is enhanced by Simone Manfredini’s soundscape and the dim, shadowy lighting of Alex Forey, brightened only by the string of battery-powered Christmas-style lights that Mirko brings along.Scarpa and and Cetrulo are well matched. Scarpa is confident about what Gio has done and pleads his cause with conviction while sustaining an air of vulnerability. Cetrulo takes Mirko on a journey from the incredulous, mainting that Gio cannot go on like this, to the supportive and the to becoming absorbed in the event and unwilling to see Gio give up his position as a recluse. The reversal of positions comes as no surprise, from Gio being committed to remaining in the cave, and Mirko wanting him to leave because he clearly cannot spend the rest of his life there; to Gio deciding he wants to re-enter the world and Mirko making the argument for staying. From that point on the ending becomes predictable. The story is rather drawn-out but it's made intriguing by two endearing actors who capture the passion, naïveté, enterprise and imagination of youth.

Rika’s Rooms is the second in the series of four works that form the Playground Theatre’s season of plays by Gail Louw and features Emma Wilkinson Wright in the eponymous solo role. The play is an adaptation of Louw’s novel of the same title. That work is based on the life of her mother who fled from Nazi Germany to Palestine, where she had an uneasy existence in a kibbutz, which she soon left, married and moved to South Africa, where she had to adjust to the alien environment of Apartheid and the waging of new battles. She had become accustomed to fighting for freedom when embroiled in the cause to abolish the British Mandate and create the state of Israel. She had some affection for the man whose death she enabled and that still plays on her conscience. Now aged seventy-six, she lives in England and has debilitating dementia. In her past she lived in many rooms in different countries, some of which she remembers well, but now she finds herself in the basic surroundings of her care home. This physical space is of little significance to her; the rooms she inhabits are in her head and it is her mind, full of memories, some distorted, that takes her from place to place in a manner that is beyond her control. Her two worlds are the present, which makes no sense, and the past, that is populated by ghosts.The story is emotionally charged and difficult to tell, but Wright rises to the challenge of portraying Rika’s current state of dementia and contrasting her pitiful condition with scenes from events in her life delivered from those periods, as she was. These provide a refreshing alternative approach to the storytelling and highlight how a once bright and charming woman has gone into degenerative decline.Here current living space and the other locations that feature in her life are realistically portrayed in Male Arcucci split two-room set adorned with pictures, which allows for plenty of movement and an intervening outdoor area. The two doors work convincingly to establish entry into different areas and times. Her costumes capture the period and Lighting Designer, Petr Vocka has done an outstanding job establishing a complimentary array of moods and effects that support the changes Wright brings about through voice and movement. She delivers Rika’s current lamentable condition with sensitivity, presenting us with a tragic figure whose demise is in such marked contrast to the energetic and vibrant Rika of former years. She consistently applies the array of voices, accents and mannerisms she has developed for different people and the stages in her life, creating identities for them all. Her energy is as well placed in the sexually charged young woman as it is in the marked contrast she portrays in the hapless old lady. Director Anthony Shrubsall harmonises all these elements into a production that deftly flows from place to place and through the highs and lows of one remarkable woman’s life.

Celebrating the show’s first anniversary, Nicholas Hytner’s sensational, immersive production of Guys & Dolls continues at the Bridge Theatre with a new lineup of stars, that is guaranteed to ensure its run for some considerable time. Frank Loesser’s musical, with book by Jo Swerling and Abe Burrows, is packed with famous tunes and it’s hard to imagine any production not making a success from a score and libretto that offers so many opportunities to excel in the genre. Hytner’s vivid imagination and creativity, however, take this production to a level that rises above all expectations. He has the enormous advantage of a versatile space that can be transformed from a flat floor by raising the platforms from below to different heights to give a variety of stage configurations in terms of levels and shapes. More importantly, he is an accomplished theatre director who knows all about the use of space and how to control the audience’s focus.In the vast floor area standing members of the audience are brought forward and pushed back to be always wrapped around the stages and up close to the action. At times they become extras, seated at tables or dragged into the scene. A large team of stage hands or movement stewards, dressed as New York City cops, are charged with the choreography of these changes; their management of this huge undertaking almost becoming a show in itself for those seated in the tiers of the vast theatre. It’s all done on a grand scale, with the Tommy Entrata orchestra conducted by Tom Brady extending the action onto the first tier. The story is ingeniously crafted around the pairing of opposites in a romantic comedy set in New York and Havana. Newcomers Owain Arthur and Timmika Ramsay star as Nathan Detroit and Miss Adelaide. Detroit is a likeable con-man who spends his time finding venues for his illegal, but highly popular crap games. She is a showgirl who after 14 years of being engaged to Detroit still believes that one day he will marry her. Meanwhile she continues with her job that provides the excuse for some outstanding song and dance numbers choreographed by Arlene Phillips with James Cousins. Costumes by Bunny Christie and Deborah Andrews add a glamorous dimension to these routines, with all the creative elements coming together in such spectacular numbers as A Bushel And A Peck and the act two opener, Take Back Your Mink, of which there is an abundance wrapped around her shoulders.In addition to her stunning showtime song and dance routines, she can also ring the changes with songs such as Adelaide’s Lament. Importantly, Ramsay portrays the love Miss Adelaide has for Detroit in an entirely convincing, sincere manner, while making her repeated protestations equally amusing. Arthur in turn gets plenty of laughs for his quick-thinking in order to change the subject and the busy time he has charging around organising the floating crap game.George Ioannides and Celinde Schoenmaker continue their stunning performances in the other lead roles of Sky Masterson and Sarah Brown. Detroit finally runs out of money to fund the premises for his games. Masterson is prepared to gamble on anything and accepts Detroit’s bet that he can’t get Brown, the morally upright and virtuous Sergeant of the Broadway’s Save-a-Soul Mission, to go on a date with him to Cuba, in return for funding the next game. You can guess how that works out when they discover there’s more freedom in the country than just the Cuba Libre. Earlier on Schoenmaker has made her position clear with regard to the evils of gambling and drink and how she will know when the right man comes along; a heartfelt rendition of I’ll Know makes that clear. But the barriers break down and we are treated to her joyous If I Were A Bell, the contrasting melancholy My Time Of Day from the suave Ioannides and the act one closing number sung together of I’ve Never Been In Love Before. Later Ioannides joins the Crapshooters in a ripping rendition of Luck Be a Lady, that demonstrates another side to his singing capabilities.But the big blockbuster of the show goes to none of these characters. Instead, it’s reserved for one of the crap game guys, Nicely-Nicely Johnson, played by Jonathan Andrew Hume. Sit Down, You’re Rockin’ The Boat is a breathtaking triumph, choreographed on a tight space in the mission house with all the chairs set out for the congregation. It seems an impossible task, but the chairs became the essential props for an array of routines, as Hume milks the song for all its worth. With some rehearsed beseeching of the conductor he gets three reprises out of it, and we were still asking for more!There’s a host of talent in every aspect of this show. Whether you’re a lover of musicals or not this one is in a league of its own and is pure theatre. It’s no wonder it won the Evening Standard Theatre Award for Best Musical in 2023. Don’t miss it.

The Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond, has scored a major triumph in securing the services of Sir Trevor Nunn to direct his faithful adaptation of Uncle Vanya in a production that has all the warmth, attention to detail and style one would expect from the former artistic director of the Royal Shakespeare Company and the Royal National Theatre.With him, Casting Director Matilda James CDG has assembled an outstanding cast of accomplished actors who embrace the naturalism that Chekhov demands and the style of performance that would have have characterised the original production directed by Stanislavski in 1899, albeit with the benefit of developments in his method since then.There are probably many joys to be had from owning an estate in the country, but if you feel bound to be there for a large part of the year the pleasures can wear thin and the tedium of a rural existence can make life seem hardly worth living. Ennui fills the air in the confines of the house and the dreams of a changed existence take many forms. The Professor observes, “I cannot go on living in the country. Human beings were not meant to live in the wild”. It’s just one example of the subtle dry humour that permeates the play and that is so well delivered.The intimate setting if the Orange Tree again enhances a production that is set in a claustrophobic house, meticulously designed by Simon Daw, moodily lit by Johanna Town and soundscaped by Max Pappenheim. It is home to the elderly Professor Serebryakov (William Chubb). Previously widowed, he now has a glamorous young wife, Elena (Lily Sacofsky) with a significant age gap between them. Sonya (Madeleine Gray) his daughter by his first marriage, lives there as does her eponymous Uncle Vanya (James Lance), who manages the estate. She is regarded as ‘plain’ and although of an age to marry is making no progress in that direction. Enter Astrov (Andrew Richardson), the eligible and handsome local doctor who also stays at the house from time to time as the Professor has ongoing medical demands and he lives some distance away. Despite their many conversations Astrov is not attracted to Sonya, though she is besotted with him, he but does have a reciprocated passion for Elena, leading him and the two ladies into many tangled moments. Others add to the household. Telegin (David Ahmad), nicknamed Waffles on account of his pockmarked skin, is a dependent of the family and lives on the estate, Marina (Juliet Garricks), is the mature nurse/housekeeper and Maria (Susan Tracy), the widowed mother of Vanya. The lives of all are thrown into disarray when the Professor announces his intention to sell the house and they are forced to rethink their futures.The cast make realistic, idiosyncratic individuals out of all the characters. Chubb’s Professor is detached in his own world of academia and aloof from everyday life, while Lance contrasts with his cranky Vanya and between them Richardson is the man most in touch with reality and his emotions. Sacofsky and Gray have several charming scenes together in which the woman who seemingly has everything laments the shortcomings of her position and the one who so wants to be loved cannot overcome her insecurities. Altogether, Nunn’s production is a delight from beginning to end and Checkov’s play often surprises with its humour and environmental concerns of about deforestation and population growth.

Gail Louw's best-known work, Blonde Poison, forms part of a four-play season devoted to her work at the Playground Theatre. Fiona Ramsay plays the title role, a nickname given to the historical character Stella Goldschlag by the Gestapo. The starkly minimalist set by Marcel Meyer is startling. Brilliant white flooring descends from half-way down the rear wall to front stage, covering the central third of the stage. Either side is black, although not off limits. A solitary carver chair awaits Ramsay’s arrival along with a pair of elegant high-heeled shoes, a reminder, perhaps, of the possessions Jews took with them as they were banished from their homes and later stripped of.Equally stunning is Ramsey’s entrance. With cat-walk precision she approaches the chair, dressed in white with period toque hat, and takes her place. The symbolism of purity and innocence inherent in white is yet another cover-up for what lies beneath and the dark deed she committed. A model never loses her poise and even at seventy-one, Goldschlag has forgotten nothing of what she once had and was. She revels in the glamorous; the grotesque she rationalises, both in preparation for an impending interview in order to live with herself. That interview might have been a gripping, confrontational debacle, more penetrating and placing her under greater pressure to account for herself than the warm-up we witness. This is her rehearsal; her time to go over the ground her former friend from school days, now a journalist, will certainly question her about. For now, we hear only his voice repeat a line she must have heard so many times and poses the question she has endured for so many years: “How can you live with yourself?”She spent ten years in prison after the war, a small price to pay, many would say, for the 3000 fellow Jews she identified, betrayed and surrendered to the will of the Gestapo. Now we are in the 80’s and in chilling tones she explains that she was survivor; a woman blessed with exceptional beauty worthy of an Aryan; a woman who was prepared to use that gift to save herself and in a failed attempt to shield her parents too. Before we descend in vitriolic condemnation of her and the path she chose, her side of the argument invites us to put ourselves in those tragic shoes and ask what we would have done to survive. If it had not been her the Gestapo chose, it would have been someone else. She had the chance to save herself and took it; to forsake her Jewish heritage, collaborate with the enemy and live to tell her only child. Except that while she can live with herself and rationalise her actions her daughter wants nothing to do with her; another price she paid for her deeds.Ramsey has an exceptional German-Jewish accent and is so immersed in the role as to make us think that we are in the presence of Goldschlag herself. Gail knows this territory well. She was born into a Jewish family in South Africa and lived in Israel before moving to the UK in 1976. Her maternal grandparents died in a concentration camp so stories handed down and an inherited culture are evident in the writing. Director Fred Abrahamse adopts a simple approach to the play, allowing the text and performance to do the work without distractions, indulging both the pathos and the humour. Such sounds as there are enhance the various moods.Ramsey gives a solid performance that ranges from laughter to tears. The script tells a woeful tale, yet it rarely pulls at the heartstrings and we are left with a story that is remarkable and fascinating rather than emotionally engaging.

Director Rachel Bagshaw has created a vibrant and vivid production of John Webster’s tragedy, The Duchess of Malfi, at the Sam Wanamaker Theatre that revels in the candlelight setting and intimacy of the venue that is reminiscent of the Blackfriars’s Theatre where the play was first performed in 1614.The high energy, impassioned performances and vengeful plot, intertwined with romance and the plight of a strong-willed woman dealing with the arrogant determination and wrath of her brothers, drives this moving play with timeless themes and contemporary battles. A gory scene and an ending that sees the stage strewn with corpses, places it in the tradition of the macabre and fateful tragedies of Shakespeare. It’s grim, but glorious, balancing light with dark and the humorous with the sinister.Ti Green’s set provides a simple yet stately backdrop to her colourful array of costumes matched to the character that give the suggestion of period yet with a modern twist. Her choice of palette plays into the themes of light and dark that permeate the script. Olivier Huband as Antonio, steward, suitor and lover to the Duchess, gently moves around in a white suit uttering poetic charm in marked contrast to the darkly-robed Oliver Johnstone whose Ferdinand becomes more bitter and venomous as his campaign to destroy his sister progresses. Jamie Ballard, the other brother and Cardinal, cannot be missed in the brilliant red robes that denote his office and serve to highlight the hypocrisy in which he is steeped. In similar vein, Arthur Hughes, gives a commanding performance as the darkly costumed Bosola, a man desperately trying to be a reformed character from his criminal past, but who finds the lure of unscrupulous behaviour too inviting not to become embroiled in the macabre machinations of Ferdinand and ultimately murder.Francesca Mills scores a triumph in the central role. Her Duchess, in predominantly shining cream brocade costumes, is filled with energy, much of it sexual, and she will have no truck with the propriety imposed by her brothers. She needs a man and Antonio, despite his lower status, is at hand. What others regard as unthinkable, she sees as a woman’s right and ignores the ban on marriage imposed by her brothers, wasting no time in producing a series of children; births that mark the passage of time. Throughout she has her dutiful woman-in- waiting, Cariola, to turn to and Shazia Nicholls plays her faithfully, while creating some of the more playful and lighthearted scenes. The whole production is given a further lift by the use of creative captioning throughout, ingeniously devised by Sarah Readman.The words appear across the entire set and at times create frantic displays that reflect the action onstage. It works well with Anna Clock’s jazzy musical compositions for a four-piece ensemble, unlike the attempts early on to incorporate modern references into the text that sound completely out of place and fall flat.

Artistic Director Tom Littler, with Francesca Ellis, scores another inspired triumph with his production of Oliver Goldsmith’s She Stoops to Conquer. Transported from the Georgian period to the 1930s and given a festive air, with Hardcastle Hall bedecked in holly and boasting a large Christmas tree, the seasonal setting works brilliantly to heighten the lighthearted jollity of this classic piece of theatre.There is something very giving about the layout of the Orange Tree Theatre. The corner doors lend themselves to the many comings and goings that keep everyone on their toes. The railings around the circle have been oak panelled and surmounted with hunting trophies and family crests The set and costumes by Neil Irish and Anett Black have really captured the feel and style of a country house for distinguished residents, while Mrs Hardcastle’s penchant for cocktails and parties is captured in the fabulously designed outfits she flaunts. (I can still see the turquoise cocktail dress and flowing orange robe that matched her wig. What a stunning triumph!) With the seats taken out of one side of the auditorium and replaced with tables and chairs, a slick shuffling of furniture transforms the sitting room into the bar of the local pub, the Three Jolly Pigeons, and later into the garden. The addition of a rotating ensemble of local performers to the pub scenes thoroughly enhances the atmosphere, as does the contribution from all the other creatives: lighting by Jonathan Chan; music and sound by Tom Attwood and movement by Julia Cave.A stellar cast from across the generations completes the picture. David Horovitch opens and sets the tome with his period tweed jacket and plus fours, bumbling around with a disgruntled air as Greta Scacchi, the source of his marital woes breezes in as Mrs Hardcastle. What a joy it is to see seasoned actors who know how to deliver these period roles. The youngsters are by no means outshone, however, and soon take centre stage. Guy Hughes, as Tony Lumpkin, Mr Hardcastle’s mischievous stepson, provides lively songs in the pub and relishes every moment of creating domestic havoc. By chance, Charles Marlow, the suitor who has come at Mr Hardcastle’s invitation to meet his daughter, Kate, encounters Lumpkin in the pub. He and his companion, George Hastings have lost their way. Lumpkin directs them to Hardcastle Hall, but tells them it’s an inn where they will find accommodation. They arrive and treat all the residents as staff. Lumpkin takes Kate into his confidence and she wholeheartedly plays the maid. Confusion, mayhem and misunderstandings now become the norm in a farcical comedy of errors that the cast plays to the full. Tanya Reynolds has all the style and elegance to carry off the posh daughter, but transforms herself into the naive country maid with rustic charm. The dashing Freddie Fox captures Marlow’s stuttering nervousness in dealing with women, yet is full of bravado in other situations and is ably assisted by his companion Robert Mountford as the practical George. He in turn has his own scheming storyline with Constance, Mrs Hadcastle’s cousin, involving the family jewels and Lumpkin. Sabrina Bartlett gives her a feisty air that contrasts with Kate’s gracefulness. A final good measure of humour comes with Richard Derrington as Diggory, the inept butler, doubling as the aristocratic Sir Charles Marlow in an upstairs, downstairs reversal of roles.This year marks the play’s 250th anniversary and its easy to why it has stood the test of time. Littler has successfully shown that it can be played in any age and is not simply rooted in the distant past. Pandering to the English obsession with social class while exposing the shenanigans of the well-to do, its humour is as powerful today as ever and makes it a seasonal cracker of a production.

The traditional blacked-out auditorium that marks the start of a play at the Sam Wanamaker theatre is illuminated one candle at a time, until the six candelabra and four sconces bring the stage to life. The eighty candles still leave the space dimly lit by modern standards giving a haunting atmosphere ideally suited to the murkiest of Ibsen’s plays, Ghosts.The subject matter that so shocked and appalled audiences at the end of the nineteenth century is far less repugnant today. So excoriatingly vicious were some of the reviews that it’s worth reminding ourselves of what was said in order to appreciate how scandalous the play appeared in its own day. The Daily Telegraph regarded it as “An open drain; a loathsome sore unbandaged; a dirty act done publicly... a lazer house with all its doors and windows open.. Candid foulness… Absolutely loathsome and fetid… Gross, almost putrid indecorum… Literary carrion…Crapulous stuf.. novel and perilous nuisance”. The Standard thought it “Unutterably offensive….. Abominable piece….. Scandalous”. Many other followed in similar vein including Era who declared it to be “As foul and filthy a concoction as has ever been allowed to disgrace the boards of an English theatre….. Dull and disgusting….. Nastiness and malodorousness laid on thickly as with a trowel”. Such a reception today is unthinkable, but at the time its content came too close to the bone and no doubt hit a nerve with many. Polite society may have been riddled with syphilis, but there was no stomach for hearing it discussed on stage. There was no shortage of private dirty linen regarding matters of marital infidelity and incest, but for it to be washed in public was considered reprehensible. What shocks today is how trying to conform to social mores, people can so embroil themselves in a tangled web of secrets and lies that their lives become a living falsehood, dominated by the fear of being found out while denying the truth to others. Hattie Morahan compellingly portrays the tortured existence Helene Alving endured at the hands of her deceased husband and which still dominates her life. The children's home she has just had built in memory of him is designed to perpetuate the lies about his being a decent man. She convinced her son, Osvald of his virtues, but sent him away to study at the age of seven, lest he find out the truth about his father. Stuart Thompson captures the idealism and desires of the youthful boy making the maidservant Regina the subject of his advances. Sarah Slimani maintains an air of propriety, but welcomes the attention. Then the past comes to haunt them both as hereditary disease and familial truths rain down upon them. Adaptor & Director Joe Hill-Gibbins along with Associate Director Lucy Wray have injected a great deal of humour into this bleak tragedy. The lustfulness and comic hypocrisy of Father Manders flows with subtle innocence from the lips of Paul Hilton, casually dressed in a lounge suit that rather annoyingly denies his clerical status and makes him seem like any other man. If Mander wears a camouflage for his true self, Egstrand, played with rustic menace by Greg Hicks, places no cover over his outward ambitions, with schemes and sales pitches that are always manifestly false and so overtly riddled with deception that he receives laugh after laugh, even realising himself, at times, how brazen is his falsity. He cuts a delightfully comic figure who provides a contrast to the heavier roles that surround him, but how well playing for laughs works in this context is debatable.With no set, but a purple carpet and wall of mirrors the focus is always on the interactions that occupy the stage. Those mirrors heighten the sense of introspection and of gazing into the past. Their presence represents a well-researched inclusion by designer Rosanna Vize as they fit with the use of a psychomanteum; a room or wall of mirrors commonly used by spiritualists at the time to assist in reviving memories and apparitions of the dead. While Helene’s time with her husband still pervades her live, she is also obsessed with her ‘boy’, whom she seems to keep trapped in childhood and is always in her mind. Perhaps that explains Osvald’s rather scruffy costume of old PE shorts and a woolly top and his presence on the stage, being stepped over as he lies prone on the floor when not in the scene. There is no excuse for the modern tweaks of talking about children raised by two fathers, however.This production of Ghosts is an interesting interpretation, with some novel aspects and fine performances, but overall it is not the moving experience one might hope for.

The brief descriptor of Treason the Musical as “a historic tale of division, religious persecution, and brutality” reads like a modern-day newspaper headline. In fact it’s the seasonal story of the 1605 Gunpowder Plot to bring down King James I (VI of Scotland) and his government. The show raises many issues, not overtly, but by association and similarity, that it’s impossible not to make comparisons with the struggles our own times and indeed other periods and events throughout history; conflicts that have involved social class, religious division and political disagreements. As the mind wanders there’s often the needs to pinch oneself, return to the story in hand and remember that this is a musical to be enjoyed.In many places that is not difficult, but for much of the show it more problematic, as in most of Act 1. Treason is certainly in the air throughout, but the details of the notorious plot and the passion that surely motivated the traitors lacks focus in a storyline that is concerned with too many other tangential issues. It was an exciting period, still dominated by religion and politics and with the death of Queen Elizabeth the country was positioned at the beginning of a new era. Catholics were hopeful of greater religious freedom and the end of persecution, given that the Scottish monarch’s mother, Mary Queen of Scots, had been a catholic. James, however had been educated by Presbyterians and lent support to Puritanism and although he has assured he Earl of Northumberland that he was not inclined towards persecution, that proved not to be the case. He wanted a smooth transition of power, rather than a radical departure from the policies of his predecessor, so little changed.The fear in which catholics lived is depicted in the rather drawn-out story of the necessarily secret marriage of Thomas Percy (Sam Ferriday) to Martha Wright (Nicole Raquel Dennis).In a work replete with scantily drawn characters Wright, who at first seems much like another one of them comes, into her own after the interval, as we see her distress and anguish poured out to her friend Anne Vaux (Emilie Louise Israel). Wright and Israel between them have moments of operatic splendour and finally we witness some depth of emotion and character.Joe McFadden’s King James has some entertaining moments and he clearly relishes watching the masque play put on for his coronation, for which the musical style suddenly changes and we are left wondering which Gilbert and Sullivan operetta inspired it. Otherwise, he seems unclear as to whether he is the strict ruler or lighthearted playboy kept on track by his Secretary of State, Robert Cecil, played with a hint of comedy by Oscar Conlan-Murray, who deploys his powerful bass/baritone voice with assertion. As for those involved in devising and failing to successfully execute the Plot, they hastily come together to get things under way in Act 2, but as characters carry little weight. Popping up in various locations and having his say, Guy Fawkes (Gabriel Akamo), rather than being a central character, assumes the role of a detached observer, often narrating in rhyming couplets. Akamo belts out some numbers, is loud and often difficult to follow. Taken together, this begs the question as to the need for Fawkes to be in the show at all. That in turn highlights the extent to which the book by Charli Eglinton with Kieran Lynn is unfocussed. Philip Whitcomb’s suitably gloomy set takes advantage of the stage’s size and benefits from imaginative lighting by Jason Taylor. Musically, Ricky Allan’s score has some life in it, but unmemorable.The spectacular setting of Alexandra Palace could have been home to a gripping period musical, combining intrigue and drama, but it’s not. There’s a certain buzz to seeing Treason at the time, but that fades upon reflection, as the muddled goings-on cloud the memory, leaving little behind.

Memory is a strange thing. Why we remember some things and not others is a mystery. Do we we shun the horrors we endured, bury them in the past and remember only the good times? Do we ever remember things as they were or do we see them later in life through rose-tinted glasses? Basque-American Daniel Camou confronts these issues in Now Entering Ely, Nevada, a remarkable piece of theatre he developed for his Masters Degree at Rose Bruford. “I don’t remember much of my childhood,” he says, “but I remember my summers in Ely. So, I thought it would be a good place to start.“ And so we embark on a journey into the past in what Camou describes as “a multi-sensory immersive solo show about sense memory”.His grandma grew up in a copper-mining town in the high desert of Nevada. When he was very young she bought a rickety two-bedroom house in Ely. It became his family’s summer home and his retreat for the rest of his childhood. At the end the season they would stack the furniture and cover everything in dust sheets for the winter. But it’s summer again now and Camou meets us outside the Space Theatre on the Isle of Dogs, introduces himself, asks our names and and leads us in.We remove our shoes and socks. Our feet are going to get dirty as we walk onto the compressed compost that covers the entire floor. The interior is just as the family left it last year. Now we start the task of rolling back the covers, setting out the chairs and other furniture so that we can experience grandma’s house as he remembered it all those summers ago. Everyone has a job, for we are his new family. “I welcome you into this old home of mine,” he says, “where we attempt to rebuild and sort through a childhood of disorganised, fragmented, and forgotten memories.”There are family photos to be seen, stories of outings to be told, old records to be played from his gran’s collection and the story he recorded of her relating her escapade on the ice, a song to be played on the guitar and a picnic to be eaten on a trip to the lake, We engage in these and many more activities as Camou charmingly reveals the secrets of the house and the impact events there had on him that remain to this day in what he confesses to be “a vulnerable, visceral, and honest meditation on growing up and the fallibility of memory”.Camou’s studies and training with the Grotowski Institute, Song of the Goat, Teatr ZAR, and Gecko Theatre give him the confidence and expertise to comfortably deliver this style of theatre and place his participants at ease. This is his work and material through and through, but director Sophia Hail has clearly formed a close relationship with Camou to guide him through the performance of his message that is rooted in sincerity. She too has a rich background on which to draw. She received her BA in theatre performance from the University of Kansas and undertook further training at the Dell’Arte International School of Physical Theatre and has recently completed her MFA in Collaborative Theatre Making at Rose Bruford College. Lighting by Ferdy Emmet and sound by Sam Tannenbaum form an integral part of the work designed to change the moods and create triggers for the development of story and atmospheres for thought and reflection. The floor not only has the contents of the house strewn around it but also juniper twigs and weeds to further the outdoor feel along with the scent of sagebrush, amber and pine; plenty to keep stage manager Paul Sage creatively busy in catering for all our senses along with production assistants Jenette Meehan and Austin Yang. This is the first production from the newly-formed Corduroy Theatre Company and is produced by Camou and Estelle Homerstone. The company aims to make work that is devised holistically. Now Entering Ely, Nevada reflects that approach as an intimate, deeply personal and rare piece of theatre. It is grounded in solid methodology and well-crafted to provide a thought-provoking and reflective experience that by example encourages us to consider our own memories and their reliability along with what we value from the past.

The final days of a sixty-year marriage are turned into a domestic comedy in the latest offering from playwright Richard Bean, of One Man, Two Guvnors fame, in To Have and To Hold, currently receiving its world premiere at Hampstead Theatre.Bean draws on his Yorkshire heritage, locating the action in Wetwang, where Jack (Alun Armstrong) and Florence (Marion Bailey) are trying to enjoy a relaxed life in their retirement village. Only their perpetual bickering disturbs the peace, giving the impression that they have coexisted under sufferance, tolerating each other’s idiosyncrasies, living with their annoying habits and forgiving their peccadillo’s in a long-running act. It’s an amusing daily show they put on and their world would be empty without it. Their exchanges, that might otherwise be regarded as abusive, belong to a different age of conversation and in particular what Bean calls the “brutal honesty” characteristic of the region.Beneath the words there must be a loving attachment that has kept them together over the years, although we see no outward evidence of this. The tirades and never broken by affectionate moments.They receive regular visits from cousin Pam (Rachel Dale) and ‘Rhubarb’ Eddie (Adrian Hood), both of whom look after aspects of their banking and run errands for them. Much less frequent are the visitations from their children, who left home to attend university and then moved away completely. Rob (Christopher Fulford) pursues a writing career, shuttling between London and LA and Tina (Hermione Gulliford) manages a group of private medical practices in Somerset, while contemplating a move to Australia.According to the British journalist, commentator and author David Goodhart in his programme note, the “play shines the light on an increasingly common British experience: how different generations within the same family can be divided by class and geography". His point that “most children today not only have different accents from their parents but live in different universes” is highlighted in the script. “Jack, Florence and Pamela have Hull accents,” insists Bean. Eddie, has a generic East Yorkshire voice with “esoteric pronunciations across a range of words”. Had the children not moved away they might have sounded similar, but they now they “have RP with no trace of Hull or Yorkshire”.The local accents add to the richness of the characters who have them and in contrast make the RP pair less interesting. Fulford and Gulliford make a go of their underwritten parts, carrying a rather unnecessary detective drama of a subplot, but they are always second fiddles to Jack and Flo on whom the emphasis remains throughout. That storyline embroils ‘Rhubarb’ Eddie and gives Hood the chance to not only play the amusingly rather dim-witted allotment keeper with the country accent, but also to show how destructive false accusations can be. Dale is caught somewhere between these two extremes leaving. Armstrong and Bailey are at the heart of the wit and repartee, with the best lines and the biggest laughs.The play is co-directed by Richard Wilson and Terry Johnson. On reading the script Wilson thought that the stories Jack tells of his time as police officer “needed 10% shaving off them”; now that could do with another 10% removed, despite being well-told. What gives warmth throughout is the realistic living room designed by James Cotterill with lighting by Bethany Gupwell that provides a suitably furnished and credible setting that enables the action to flow.The affirmation that the play "tackles the prickly problem of dealing with ageing parents" is something of an exaggeration; it uses the issue as a source of comedy without saying anything profound or original about it. As for Bean saying, “My hope is to enthral the audience and illicit laughter,” he has scored only on the latter of those in a play that has old-style comforting comedy.

Making its London premier Maimuna Memon’s multi-award-winning Manic Street Creature is now showing at the Southwark Playhouse, Borough, following its barnstorming, sell-out world premiere run at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2022, This is another production I was talked into seeing, believing it not to be my cup of tea. My misgivings were potentially confirmed at the sight of six guitars, a cello, an electronic drum set and keyboard and a harmonium, the latter creating some intrigue as to how it might fit in. The mix of instruments had all the makings of a cacophonous head-banging nightmare, but it turned out to be nothing of the sort. I was enthralled enthralled by the music, the story and the performances. I found out afterwards that the volume for all instruments is controlled from the sound deck, the noise level being my main concern. Full marks to Sound Operator Max Alexander-Taylor for fully appreciating what constitutes a pleasant listening level and sustaining it throughout while still managing variations in volume. Harley Johnston (Raz) on percussion could bang his drums as hard as he liked, it would make no difference. He looked completely chilled for being relieved of the responsibility, clearly enjoying the chance to perform with the occasional harmonising vocal. Although she had her back to me during the in-the-round performance, the same could be said for Rachel Barnes (Heidi), whose contribution on that most melancholy of instruments, the cello, was movingly enhancing to so much of the narrative. Dominating the show, of course, is Olivier nominee Maimuna Memon. Her musical and storytelling artistry, voice and presence are all-pervasive. The tale she has is straightforward. Ria is a Lancashire lass who moves to London, searches for somewhere to live and is thrilled with the prospect of a new life when she finds a place in Camden. She gets a job in a pub and soon she is working with her band to complete a new album of songs that charts the rise and fall of a recent relationship. It proves to be an effective framing device and she calls out the number of each track as its about to be recorded. Each song relates to a specific memory and as events unfold she is drawn into the darker aspects of her own past and the agonies of being in love with a man with bipolar disorder. She points out that before the condition assumed that name he would have been known as manic depressive. That sounds far more hard-hitting, which is why she doesn’t shy away from it. She goes on to unflinchingly describe the highs and lows of their relationship in the rawest terms to chilling effect, creating an air of incredulity wrapped around the thought, “Did she really just say that?As a stand-alone narrative it would be demanding enough to perform, but she proclaims this to be ‘unashamedly musical theatre’ so in between the spoken words and some dry humour, the songs flow from one to the next, not just as musical interludes but as vocal arrangements that are deeply integrated into the emotions and events that transpire. It’s a classic of love, lust and late nights, with the added dimension of mental health issues that are starkly confronted, making it deeply routed in our own times. Memon started writing this show during the pandemic as a’ form of release and catharsis.’ During that time she learned about ‘secondary traumatic stress, which means ingesting someone else's trauma and making it your own’. She writes that by understanding this she was better able to process why she was drawn to a certain way of being. “Most importantly,” she says, “it helped me to realise I wasn't on my own”. Her hope now is that the show will help others in a similar position and those who love and work with them to also not feel alone. There is clearly a strong team behind this production who collectively contribute to the effective styling of the show. Memon is clearly aware of how changes in sound affect the mood. She works her way back and forth between the six different guitars and using a range of style that include Indie, Rock, Pop and Folk amongst others. She and Raz also squeeze that mysterious harmonium to create some really haunting moments. Additional sound by Sam Clarkson for Sound Quiet Time provides effects that relate to various locations for the story. To heighten the moods further, Lighting Designer Jamie Platt frequently bathes areas in warm amber but contrasts with profile spots to give a concert effect, reminding us of how the songs might be heard in another setting. His eight strings of hanging bare-bulb lights similarly brighten and dim for effect. Designer Libby Watson, apart from locating the instruments, has homely rugs covering the floor that no doubt help with sound absorption, while Movement Director Ira Mandela Siobhan has managed to find enough space on the crowded floor to keep Memon on the go, establishing various locations. Finally, Director Kirsty Patrick Ward has brought all the elements together to form a tightly knit show that is powerful and easy to follow.Manic Street Creature is a remarkable creation; a daringly deep musical exploration that bravely confronts mental health issues head-on. I am so pleased I was persuaded to see this stunning piece of theatre.

Playwright Adam Taub says, “In the era of Google, Amazon and Meta, when our every move is monitored and recorded, there is no more relevant story than 1984”. His reimagining of George Orwell’s prophetic novel, however, goes further, much further than to remind us that we are all being watched. It’s many centuries since Pontius Pilate allegedly asked, “What is truth?” In Oceania there is no doubt. Truth is whatever the Ministry of Truth declares it to be. If you have memories that you believe tell you otherwise that the Ministry dictates then you are mistaken. If you write down or proclaim those sentiments to another, then you will be discovered, taken away and re-educated, because Big Brother is not only watching you but listening to you and reading your thoughts. Is you room bugged? Of course it is. Are you family, your friends, your lovers and partners working for the Ministry? Of course they are, for that is the way that Oceania will survive for ever. Or take a break. Believe that life is not like that, behave according to your feelings and see what happens. There is no room for secrecy or dissent; no margins for emotional attachment. This is the age of totalitarian surveillance. Big Brother reigns supreme and the Ministry’s mission is to ensure that Oceania will exist in perpetuity, The imposing Art Deco Hackney Town Hall, venue for Pure Expression’s latest immersive production, has the austerity and deceptive beauty one would expect for the headquarters of the Ministry. Upon entry bags are checked. Phones must be silenced. Everyone is given a colour-coded badge that assigns to either the red, blue or green group and has a unique number. There is no way of knowing the significance of either the colour or the number. This is not a place to ask questions, merely to follow instructions. We assemble in the chamber of the building, seated according to our designated colour. A black and white war film is shown and the anthem of Oceania is sung before O’Brien (Jude Akuwudike), with mellow tones and convincing logic begins his exposition of the Ministry’s rationale. It is so easy to find oneself nodding in agreement, caught up in the smooth-talking that makes complete sense and renders any alternative ludicrous. Akuwudike is frighteningly captivating. How could you go against such a charming man? And then comes the realisation of how painless it is to be sucked into the propaganda, to conform, to unquestioningly believe in Big Brother and the Truth and then to carry out the commands follow. The sound by Thor Aswarm, lighting by Jonathan Simpson and sets by Dr Jeroen Van Dooren all contribute in a precise manner to the running of the well-oiled machine that is the Ministry.Julia (Kit Reeve) and Winston (Declan Rodgers) are examples of those who thought they could beat the system. Of course they are discovered. We see Winston taken away and witness his torture and the re-education he undergoes to correct his memory. His condition of not seeing things as the Ministry has declared them to be is manifestly a mental illness that must be treated by correction. Both Reeves and Rodges give compelling performances that make personal the suffering to which millions have been and still are subjected to around the world. The truly remarkable aspect of Taub’s adaptation directed with unnerving simplicity by Jem Wall and Richard Hahlo, is the subtlety with which it makes us realise the extent to which we live in the age of 1984. Today we listen to the propaganda of warring factions and to politicians in denial of what they have said, even though the evidence is in front of us. And when truth and lies become indistinguishably merged in fields of political rhetoric, 1984 confronts us with those situations and reminds us of how dictators come to power and how millions have died and many more millions have had their lives destroyed on the strength of their ideologies because people succumbed to the pressure of the message and those to whom they gave powerThere’s a powerful scene at the end that challenges the extent to which we have become drawn in to the dogma and developed fear of the consequences of standing up against wrongful actions and evil instead of doing what we know to be right. This might be theatre, but it speaks to our lives and the world we have allowed to build up around us. If only 1984 were just a play.

Following their hugely successful run at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe this year Box Tale Soup are now performing Casting the Runes, based on stories by M R James, at the Pleasance in north London, as part of their UK tour of the production directed by Adam Lenson. Noel Byrne and Antonia Christophers are the writers and performers of the piece who have established themselves as leaders in the art of theatrical puppetry. They are also responsible for the set, props and costumes, all of which are made from recycled materials. Even without that factor they are quite remarkable. The three panels give the appearance of being made from the finest wood. Just as doors they would be impressive, but they also perform tricks. An arrangement of sliding windows make them particularly versatile, drop-down leafs form tables and seats with pullout supports and the reverses are painted as a bookcase. They are ingenious constructions that support the mystery of the plot. Similarly versatile are the four elegant standard lamps that are reconfigured to adorn interior sets and also to light streets and stations suggesting a same period air along with the suitcases that find many uses. Creating the various locations could be a clumsy business, but the team has created an almost balletic style of choreographed movement that sees items delicately adjusted or relocated with graceful ease. Equal finesse is also applied to working the puppets. With a costume draped down the puppeteer’s arm the hand animates the mouth as words are spoken from behind. It’s remarkable how a character can come to life simply through a mask designed to make a vivid statement. Both actors have mastered this art, but Christophers has the most parts in this format and along with her role as the focussed Miss Harrington, uses a range of voices to convincing effect.Using direct address to the audience we become the students attending Edward Dunning’s lecture, a device that draws us into the action and makes us feel part of the whole quest to understand the supernatural, of which he is an expert and a sceptic. At this stage in the play Byrne appears distinguished and confidently plays the self-assured authority on the subject.That is all about to change, however, as he encounters the mysterious Mr. Karswell. His life now becomes a waking nightmare with sinister happenings at every turn, all related to the unfathomable runes he was handed and whose secret he must uncover before his time runs out and the dark presence finally catches up with him. The increasingly ghoulish events are enhanced by Dan Melrose’s original haunting score and lighting that is often dim and moody with flickers that that suggest the presence of powers beyond our senses, in the best tradition of Gothic horror stories. In a superbly measured performance, little by little Byrne reveals how Dunning is destroyed by these forces until he becomes a trembling wreck.This production of Casting the Runes is stylish, gripping and impeccably delivered; a work in the best tradition of puppetry and acting.

If you are partial to rather extraordinary pieces of theatre, that contain elements of many genres but cannot be pigeon-holed into any of them, then The Nag’s Head at the Park Theatre might be for you. Officially it’s described as ‘A dark comedy ghost story in an ode to rural England and the independent pub’. It’s also in keeping with the Halloween advent season for those who like a little spookiness. There’s a feeling that with some audience participation and a few songs, it could develop a cult following, rather like the Rocky Horror Show, except it makes less sense than that. It already has the dance routine, which would be easy to learn, and music by the band Good Habits. It’s short on eccentric costumes, with the exception of the Greene King (as in the brewery) emerald hooded cape. Lines of entrepreneurial capitalists would look impressive outside the theatre waiting to assume their seats in the auditorium. There would also be the opportunity to come as the ghost, the image from the painting having been heavily branded and trademarked. But the show hasn’t reached that level yet.Let’s start with the easy stuff. Three siblings are in the pub that was owned by their deceased father, whose wake they are attending. Jack, Connor and Sarah, played respectively by co-writers Felix Grainger & Gabriel Fogarty-Graveson and Cara Steele. Jack has been loyal to his late father, helped him run the pub and never left the isolated village of Shireshire. Connor and his sister Sarah both got out as soon they could to start careers and be independent. They have barely kept in touch over the intervening years; well more than a decade, maybe nearer twenty years. As joint beneficiaries of their father’s estate, they are now brought together and must decide on the future of the abysmally failing pub that is devoid of customers. They decide to make a go of it, which, with the benefit of hindsight, turns out to be a foolish move.From this point the events rapidly charge up the craziness scale from zero (normal) to around five (eccentric to a little mad) by the end of act one and hit ten (absolutely bonkers) well before the curtain comes down. The mystery develops when a gift-wrapped painting is heard to drop at the door. The demonic image is said to have ghostly properties and their father’s insanity is believed to have been caused by it’s haunting antics around the building.True or not, madness is contagious. Connors inner demons increasingly take over any sanity he might have possessed. Sarah’s delusions of grandeur are reinforced when the brewery’s representative crowns her queen of the pub, (or did she just imagine that?) and Jack is beset by the ghost of a former customer and brandishes a crucifix at the painting fully convinced of its satanic powers. There’s more; a lot more as the trio increasingly lose control of the situation and they succumb to other-worldly forces.The members of the ensemble formed by Make It Beautiful Theatre Company give their all to this production as they take on multiple roles, creating a presence and clarity of purpose for each character. Director Alice Chambers skilfully moves them around the two sets of pub tables and chairs laid out in front of the bar that gives an unmistakable location for the action. She has clearly exercised control and staged the movement with precision to avoid what could have turned into shambolic cavortings given the high octane levels of energetic performance. Commenting on The Nag’s Head, Grainger says, “This play has been the product of two years of passionate research and writing. Working with communities in both Shropshire (where I’m from) and Norfolk we’ve deep-dived into folklore and ghost stories as well as what makes a good old pub run and the characters you meet in them”. Which brings us to the universal concern about the survival of pubs, especially independent ones, in the face of increasing rates of closure and corporate takeovers. as the serious issue that underpins the story.Almost lost for words regarding the production, not really knowing what to make of it, my friend and I agreed afterwards that this mind-boggling play is, above all, entertaining. It’s a simple description of but it fits the bill.

Head to the Bridge House Theatre, Penge for an evening of delightful storytelling and charming performances in Alan Booty's two-hander, The Loaf. The play is inspired by the tale Das Brot by Wolfgang Borchert. Born in 1921, he is known as one of the founders of Trümmerliteratur, translated as literature of the ruins. The genre sought to realistically depict the spiritual and physical state of Germany immediately after the Second World War. He was an outspoken critic of National Socialism and when peace came he wrote prolifically for two years, until his death from liver failure at the age of 26 in 1947.Rationing was a feature of post-war Germany as it was in the UK. In Borchert’s home city of Hamburg, where the play is set, bread allowances were in place until 1950. The play features Hermann (Alan Booty), a postman who walks many kilometres everyday on his rounds and builds up an unsatiated appetite. His wife, Martha (Joanna Karlsson), keeps a well-regulated home, but one night, overcome by hunger at 2.30, Hermann sneaks out of bed to steal a slice of bread. He makes a noise in the kitchen that wakes his wife who gets up and almost catches him in the act. He will not admit to what he was up to, but she sees the loaf on the table, removed from the bread bin.From her questioning and as a knowing lady, she would clearly like Hermann to just own up to what he was doing. He, however comes up with stories of rats, cats a dog and burglars as possible sources of the noise, all of which are improbable. She persists but is too polite to simply confront him with his crime and the conversation wanders into concerns about her ageing mother in Berlin, whom she hasn’t seen for several years, and reminiscences of times past and childhood memories.Much of the broadening of the play from the original story comes from research done in Hamburg. Amongst others, he met with the administrator at the English Theatre of Hamburg, where he has performed, who invited him to meet her mother who had lived in Hamburg during the War and witnessed the entry of the British Army in 1945. The heaviness of the period is borne by Karlsson in her measured words, soft tones, reflective disposition and concerns for others. In her pensive storytelling she captures how Matha is haunted by the ‘old days’, and guilt-ridden about silly childhood misdemeanours. Hermann has his stories too, but Booty balances the dark mood by making him a man who can see the funny side of things. He brings moments of amusement and does an entertaining song in German made famous by the actor and singer of the period, Hans Albers, and dance routine to go with it. He dips into the alternative market for potatoes and onions giving an insight into the wheelings and dealings of the day, which he finds amusing, but Martha does not. The text has intermittent expressions in German, of which Booty was formerly a teacher. These add significantly to creating the sense of place.The set and costumes by Rose Balp are convincingly authentic, with a vintage breadboard from 1939 and period knife along with blue trimmed white enamel kitchenware: a washing bowl, a jug and mugs, a waste-bin, a bucket and, of course the bread bin, She even acquired a pattern from that time to knit the slippers they wear. Subtle lighting by Venus A Raven adds to the night time setting and the mood of the piece.In one memorable moment Martha expresses the Vergangenheitsbewältigung or coming to terms with the past. "Life is going on... We have to look to the future. But, every now and then, I feel I cannot get on with the present. Because first, I have to come to terms with the past." There are probably many millions around the world saying something similar today, so while this play has a very particular focus, the couple and their situation have universal significance.

Winston Churchill’s famous expression, “It’s a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma…” could accurately be applied to the subject of The Kaspar Hauser Experiment at the The Space, Isle of Dogs and on tour.Kaspar Hauser (1812 -1833) was a German youth who appeared on the streets of Nuremberg in 1828 claiming to have previously been held prisoner in a darkened cell. He carried a letter from an anonymous author addressed to Captain von Wessenig of the cavalry regiment. The writer claimed that he had been given charge of the boy after his birth and had taught him how to read and write and instructed him in Christianity and that Kaspar now wanted to follow in his deceased father’s footsteps and join the cavalry. Another note, allegedly from his mother, gave this information and his name. Analysis of the documents have shown them to be by the same hand and Kapsar probably wrote them both himself.He was in good health, although he insisted on a diet of just bread and water, and was able to walk easily, but his intellectual state was the subject of controversy and he was obsessed with horses. Initially he was imprisoned as vagrant. Mayor Binder spent time with him and found a few more details and rumours soon emerged that he came from aristocratic parentage, while others proclaimed him to be a fraud.His case was investigated by Paul Johann Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach, president of the Bavarian court of appeals who passed him to the care of Friedrich Daumer, a teacher, who received public donations for his upkeep. He discovered the boy’s talent for drawing which is taken up in the play. Following a mysterious cut to his forehead - probably self-inflicted - he was moved to the house of a local official, Johann Biberbach who found him to be a persistent liar. An incident with a pistol led to his being transferred to another keeper, Baron von Tucher, who noted the boy’s vanity and spite; his "horrendous mendacity" and "art of dissimulation". Needless to say, his stay with the Baron was short-lived and finally Lord Stanhope, took charge of the boy. After a while he housed him with the schoolmaster Johann Georg Meyer as he was usually dealing with parliamentary affairs in England and did not wish to take the boy with him. Although he made great efforts to find out more about Hauser he ultimately came to doubt his credibility, while Feuerbach proclaimed the boy to be “a smart scheming codger, a rogue, a good-for-nothing that ought to be killed". Hauser’s ultimate death from a stab wound to his left breast was surrounded in predictable mystery.It’s a story that loses none of its complexity in the writing by Florence Brady, Adam Davies, Henry McGrath & Charles Sandford nor in the solid performances of the Animikii Team of Graham Butler, Rhianna Compton, Adam Davies (actor/director), Henry McGrath and Charles Sandford. Daumer, Stanhope, and Meyer all feature in this investigation into Hauser along with another character, Clara, the wife of a politician, who is intrigued by Kaspar’s captivating personality. In turn, rather like a trial, they question Hauser and while they are initially in control, he soon learns the art of interrogation and has each of them in the dock, questioning their motives. Elements of Brecht’s epic theatre abound in the style of this work. We are spoken to directly and asked to rise in the presence of the prince and perform a drum roll. Songs and music composed by Charles Sandford, accompany many moments, often in an ecclesiastical and medieval-sounding style that highlights the Christian elements to Hauser’s background. Narration intersperses the dialogue and chalk boards have the names of the scenes written on them. There’s a lot going on throughout this work and the spacious floor of the Grade II listed Romanesque-style former church, dating form 1856, allows for plenty of energetic movement in a suitably period building that easily accommodates and suits the many interesting items in Jessica Staton’s set. It’s a big, brave, bold production but the intricacies of the story combined with the theatrical style are not always conducive to clarity of understanding. It’s easy to become lost in some of the diversions and towards the end of act two there is an element of uncertainty as to where it should end. Nevertheless, it’s a remarkable theatrical experience for which the team are to be commended.

Writer Simon Stephens has taken Max Frisch’s 1953 Biedermann und die Brandstifter, variously translated as The Fireraisers or The Arsonists and given it a heightened absurdist interpretation with songs in a production at the Roundhouse by Represent Theatre.The central themes remain the same, though the Germanic context is changed. This version contrasts the gullibility and arrogance of the well-to-do Smith (Tommy Oldroyd) with the machinations and determination of Trueman (Adam Owers), a man far below him in social standing, Trueman appears at Smith’s doorstep in something akin to a prisoner’s outfit. This might be for no other reason than that it is fun to dress up and can reinforce a claim to absurdity, but it might be a clever device for showing that Smith’s imminent foolishness has been staring him in the face all the time. Trueman appears to be genuinely in need of a place to stay and is the sort of chap Smith believes he could get on with, as he has with other vagrants he’s accommodated in the past. His wife, Bobsy, (Nadine Ivy Barr) goes along with this. After a some haggling, Trueman offers him the attic for the night, but Smith stays on and takes advantage of the hospitality by inviting Molly (Angela Jones) to move in with him. Smith accepts this and even when the pair start stockpiling barrels of petrol in the loft he is unable or unwilling to make the connection with the arson attacks that have been taking place around the city. Worse still, he becomes embroiled in the planning by helping to measure the detonating fuse and provide the couple with matches, making himself an accessory. Thus, no matter how much the evidence points to the contrary, Smith cannot bring himself to admit an error of judgment and stop believing that Trueman is a decent chap. Frisch’s original deployed the firefighters in the style of a Greek chorus. Now we have a motley collection of characters resembling trendy individuals from the 1970s. As a group they belt out the chorus music and lyrics of Chris Thorpe with guitarist Aaron Douglas as lead vocalist and Lucy Yates on drums and additional effects. It’s all very entertaining but exists rather as an aside to the thrust of the play’s message. Director Abigail Graham has clearly had a lot of fun staging this version and misses few opportunities for eccentricity. What’s lacking is the depth of writing and performance to draw us into the situation and convince us that we should see ourselves in Smith’s position and reflect on what we would have done in his circumstances or the the extent to which we are blind to the truth that surrounds us in so many areas.Given the times in which we live that surely should not be difficult. The stockpiling of oil and related climate issues along with the plight of refugees are really not far removed from the core of Frisch’s play if you really want to update it.

Carly Churchill looks upon Owners, now revived at Jermyn Street Theatre, as a watershed in her life. It was her first play to be professionally produced on stage. That was at the Royal Court in 1972. Thereafter she said, “I've worked almost entirely in the theatre. So my working life feels divided quite sharply into before and after 1972, and Owners was the first play of the second part”.We all know the catalogue of plays that followed over decades of writing. At the time of her being yet another new writer, Owners had a mixed reception. E. Kyle Minor described it as an "intermittently interesting and otherwise tedious" play. In hindsight Sylviane Gold of The New York Times stated that Churchill "had yet to achieve the formal mastery that would make later plays like Cloud Nine and Top Girls instant modernist classics”. Gold went on to say in the New York Times that Churchill's "acidic critique of capitalist freebooters and the culture that worships them as heroes carries even more resonance today than it did in 1972”. That was written in 2013. It could easily be said today.The property and rental prices we hear from this period in themselves raise a laugh, but then wages were also a fraction of today’s. What hasn’t changed is the crisis in accommodation and the money-grabbing and often manipulative, coercive or even bullying tactics of some property owners towards their tenants. Cue the cold and calculating Marion (Laura Doddington) who is anxious to sell a property for which she has buyer offering her a very good price. She has a problem because there are sitting tenants who occupy a damp-ridden flat on the top floor. Lisa (Boadicea Ricketts) and Alec (Ryan Donaldson) already have two children with a third expected any time. Alec has no intention of leaving, for reasons that are unclear, rather like his motives for all aspects of his behaviour. It would probably be just too much trouble and in any case he seems to enjoy indolence and stubbornness. Lisa, meanwhile is up for moving on especially as Marion is prepared to offer a cash incentive for doing so. Marion doesn’t soil her hands by dealing directly with the tenants but instead uses her sidekick, Worsely (Tom Morley) to do her dirty work. Having had an affair with Alec, she still lusts after him, further complicating the situation.He is a dead-pan suicidal misfit who gets on very well with her husband, Clegg (Mark Huckett), who in turn is obsessed with homicidal thoughts towards his wife whilst being a lecherous, porn-watching misogynist. There's a parallel between his view of women and his wife's take on houses; both are property to be used. As a butcher he has all the tools at his disposal, but considers a Sweeney Todd pie-shop scenario a bit too blatant for her demise. Between them, in bouts of black comedy, they conjure up various means of murder and suicide. Into this mix are thrown further sexual self-seeking adventures, hypocrisy, deceit and double-dealing.In a play centred around property, Cat Fuller’s set of nine doors is focussed and remarkably well-fitted onto the confined stage. The direction by Stella Powell-Jones, however, is often static and rather flat, often leaving the universally talented cast grouped in fixed positions to deliver the wordy script, even when space is available for movement. It is their ability of to create fascinating characters that forms the production's strength.Owners is piece of theatre history and this is rare opportunity to see it staged. It might be rooted in the period but its themes resonate with our own times and its critique is still valid.

There is nothing subtle about Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirical attack on the House of Lords in Iolanthe, which premiered in both London and New York on 25th November 1882; the first play ever to open simultaneously on both sides of the Atlantic. Peers were popular subjects of ridicule even then and this revival of Cal McCrystal’s 2018 production by ENO at the Coliseum vehemently continues that tradition.The libretto resonated so well with those seeking to reform the upper chamber in the late nineteenth century that Gilbert had to ban the use of quotations from it in their campaign. Meanwhile, Sullivan had managed to couch the critique in jolly and entertaining songs, with the whole work being so light-hearted that even Prime Minister Gladstone praised its good taste. In the best tradition of the Savoy operas, of which Iolanthe was the first, this year’s version sees further updates with look-alikes Boris Johnson, who appears among the elite, accompanied by a Nadine Dorries banging on the doors of the Lords, desperate to be let in. Inevitably the Arts Council’s defunding of ENO isn't let off the hook.Perhaps setting it in a world where fairy fantasy meets reality made its substance more acceptable. In the case of the Arcadian shepherd Strephon (Marcus Farnsworth) the two come together in the top and bottom halves of his body. His mother, Iolanthe (Samantha Price), who as a Fairy has never aged, married a mortal, contrary to fairly law, for which the punishment was death. The benevolent Queen of the Fairies, (Catherine Wyn-Rogers) commuted Iolanthe’s sentence to a lifetime’s banishment as long as she left her husband, The Lord Chancellor (John Savournin), which she did without telling him she was pregnant, so he has no knowledge of his son. Meanwhile Strephon has fallen in love with the Arcadian shepherdess Phyllis (Ellie Laugharne). She knows nothing of his background, but as a Ward in Chancery Strephon needs the Chancellor’s permission to marry her, which he declines. The Fairies still miss Iolanthe and persuade the Queen to allow her return. Next, enter the peers of the realm, all of whom fall in love with Phylis and plead with the Chancellor to have her hand in marriage. Thus the mix of conflicting interests is set up and the rest of the operetta is devoted to unravelling the complexities of the situation so that all can live happily ever after.The singing is excellent throughout. The orchestra under the baton of Chris Hopkins captures the varying moods and the big numbers are well-delivered by the highly experienced ensemble. Loudly let the trumpet bray and others are sung with gusto and inevitably Savournin relishes the Lord Chancellor’s songs and delivers When you're lying awake at break-neck speed. He is ably joined by Ruairi Bowen as Lord Tolloller and Ben McAteer as Lord Mountararat in the charming If you go in you're sure to win. Female soloists shine in all their numbers and Catherine Wyn-Rogers makes an impressive debut flying around with her fairy wings.Those trying to deliver duets and other pieces do well not to be distracted by the excess of asinine antics taking place around them. The pastoral motif is milked in this production. A flock of sheep is assembled one at a time by stage-hands dressed in skin-tight black outfits, complete with full head masks, while we try to concentrate on a delightful rendition of Strephon and Phyllis’s love song, None Shall Part Us. While they remain undistracted, that is not an option for those of us in full view of the scene. Suggesting the pantomime season has arrived early a cow wanders amongst the peers, a unicorn is put to ingenious use, a horse drops his opinion of proceedings from his rear end, a flamingo is dismembered and ducks have their waddle. The performance was given rapturous applause and clearly the antics were found to be appealing to the vast majority, but they will be divisive. In addition to the music and performances there’s and Lizzie Gee’s choreography to enjoy along with the vast sets by Paul Brown that bring the woodlands and the upper house to life.

From time to time a play comes along that ticks every box and gives a surprise treatment to a contemporary topic. Matt Parvin’s Gentlemen at the Arcola Theatre, does that and much more in a gripping drama whose storyline gathers in complexity as events unfold.Gentlemen was set to open in March 2020, days before lockdown. With the passage of time a new cast has been assembled, one of whom was in his first year at drama school three years ago. Huge credit here goes to Casting Director Nicholas Hockaday for assembling a trio of exceptionally skilled actors and Director Richard Speir for drawing on individual strengths to forge a chemistry between them that gives emotional depth to the production. As Speir’s says, “This cast might as well have been lab-grown for the show. With a wonderful blend of youth, experience and sharp wit, I couldn’t wish for better actors to bring Matt’s piece to life”.The opening scenes have al the makings of a situation comedy. Greg (Charlie Beck) spent his school days deep in study. His reward for all that hard work and isolation was a place at one of England's top universities. Now he intends to milk the opportunity for all it’s worth in a hedonistic mix of societies, pubs, clubs and sex. After all, it is fresher’s term and he’s as fresh as they come. In contrast, his party-going popularity is the antithesis of everything that Kasper (Issam Al Ghussain) has experienced, not that he would want it. While Greg takes to the excesses of university life like a duck to water, Kaspar is the fish out of water. The pair are summoned to the room of the college welfare officer (Edward Judge), known as Timby, who needs to resolve a charge brought by a professor that Greg has plagiarised one of Kaspar’s essays. Greg, with his skilled use of words and personal logic, argues his way out of the accusation. But this is only the start of more serious allegations that eat into his Teflon veneer.Kaspar remains silent during the mediation session; an intriguing device that makes us wonder why he is not participating and what’s going on in his head. Plenty, is the answer, but for now he is biding his time. If Greg is the focus of act one, dominating it with his endless bravado and antics, the balance of power shifts in act two with Kaspar revealing his mastery of the situation and ability to control the agenda. If only Greg had realised how Kaspar could turn and be so devastatingly menacing.Caught in the middle is the well-meaning, all-things-to-all-people counsellor who has perfected the art of sitting on the fence to the point at which becomes painful. The bulk of the play is set in his office, designed with convincing attention to detail by Cecilia Trono. It’s spacious enough for some physical action but sufficiently compact to keep everyone in proximity with each other and heighten the intensity of their meetings. The long entrance to the stage is cleverly converted into a corridor that leads off from behind the door and although largely unseen has appropriate wall hangings. It’s subtly lit with light streaming in from a window and lamps giving tonal effects. In the surprise and contrasting opening to act two lighting designer Will Alder and sound designer Jamie Lu, whose outside protest noises work convincingly, have a chance for a little more excess in their creativity.Judge captures the essence of the rather bumbling counsellor to perfection. His tone is cautious, verging on apologetic when he realise he’s said something that might, upset, offend or show lack of understanding. His delivery is often very soft, with some lines in the style of asides, under his breath as he goes out of his way to display his empathy. His softly-softly approach balances the forthright and vehemently outspoken delivery of Beck, who performs as more of a comedic master of the language, running rings round people. Ghussain falls between the two, cleverly setting up the initially compliant and submissive loner only later to take everyone by surprise as he weaves a web of sinister machinations. Delivery by all three is so powerful as to leave mouths aghast at how the manipulations of the situation unfold.All of this stems form Parvin's finely crafted script and focussed use of language. With a Ph.D in English and years spent at Oxford and Cambridge Universities he’s clearly at home in the setting of his play and his observations of life there have clearly influenced this work. It’s a joy to relish the rich vocabulary, vivid imagery and precisely constructed sentences that elevate the dialogue and gives it heightened credibility in this academic setting, whilst appreciating the skill in creating dark comedy and an intriguing plot. Class struggles, toxic cultures, the complexities of bisexual identity, how people become victims and why others are aggressors, how those roles can be reversed and the emotions that are generated are all laid bare in Gentlemen, often in the style of a detective investigation. Whatever the resolution of the specific situation between Greg and Caspar, the issues will remain long after, for them and for us all.Gentlemen is a masterclass in how to deliver stunningly captivating drama.NB: I am not in any way related to Charlie Beck!

It was a low turnout at the intimate Finborough Theatre for John McKay’s Dead Dad Dog, but we were all clearly in the mood for a fun night out. Sound Designer Julian Starr had selected some of the best music from the 80s to play as we took our seats. Such was the enthusiasm it generated that people started conversations across the three sides of the thrust stage. “What year was this one?” “Who’s singing this? I've forgotten his name.” “Oh I remember this one. I used to play it as I was getting ready to go out.” All this and more as we looked at the collage of music headlines from the period on a backdrop by set designer Alex Marker. The slight delay to the start of the performance didn’t matter. We could probably have sat there all night listening to the fabulous songs of the period, but another revival was about to begin. This funny and heartwarming play premiered in 1988 with a sell-out run at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, after which it immediately transferred to London’s Royal Court Upstairs and then went on a UK tour. That’s the last time it was performed professionally until now.It’s an important day for Eck (Angus Miller), as he munches his way through a bowl of cornflakes, rehearses his responses to the questions he anticipates being asked at his job interview with BBC (Scotland) and decides what to wear. It’s also a very special day as he has a date tonight, which is not a common occurrence in his life. If all goes to plan this day could mark a turning point in his life; a new job and a new girlfriend and he’s very positive about both.Of course, that’s not how it works out at all. As he’s about to leave the house his father turns up unexpectedly. It’s a disturbing surprise for him given that his dad has been dead for twelve years. Willie (Liam Brennan) has somehow managed a day’s release from heaven and come to see how his son is doing. He was, of course doing very well but this surprise visit has turned his day into turmoil. Eck could just exchange pleasantries and leave his dad at home were it not for a sort of magnetic field that surrounds him. Every time Eck moves too far away from his dad he’s hit by a shock-wave that wont let him pass. Consequently, everywhere Eck goes, Willie goes too. And he’s not invisible. This ghostly haunting is a full bodily resurrection and so his presence has to be explained to the interviewing panel, the guys in the pub and, most disastrously, the girl he’s dressed up to meet.This all makes for an evening that is highly amusing with plenty of dry humour. Miller is immediately engaging and makes Eck into a very likeable character, who would be easy to befriend; the sort of guy who would be a charming and witty pal. His mellifluous Dundee tones and chiselled features make him utterly endearing. Brennan similarly exudes charm but with an old-school manner emphasised by the sounds of what others in Scotland might call his county Kilmarnock accent. Even when silent his comedic manoeuvres entertain. That William maintains a view of the situation that regards it as non-problematic and even helpful to Eck makes everything even more amusing, It’s an insightful piece of casting that recognised the chemistry they would have as a duo. Director Liz Carruthers, has let their natural rapport shine through, kept the set simple, with just one versatile chair and used the limited space to maximum effect, creating various locations.McKay was only 22 when he wrote Dead Dad Dog. It was, he says, “born out of the anarchic Edinburgh Alternative Comedy scene in the mid-1980s, and the radical ‘no set, no proscenium arch’ ethos of Grotowski-termed poor theatre”. He's been faithful to that spirit and confesses that he was ‘also a bit drunk’ and the time. He started writing it ‘one Christmas Eve, after the pub, back home in my childhood bed with a school pen and a bit of paper’. He admits it contains ‘nakedly autobiographical’ elements, his own father having died just a few years before, which probably helped him to focus on the relationship between Eck and Willie and craft if so meaningfully.Reflecting on the play’s surprise success he says, “Sometimes you’re not experienced enough to do anything but tell the truth”. In Dead Dad Dog we have, pure and simple.(Please Note that due to illness Sunny Boy has been withdrawn from this run)

The current transformation of the postage stamp stage of Barons Court Theatre, located in the cellar vaults of The Curtains Up pub, has been wrought by Designer Jane Linz Roberts, for fell by Chris Salt of Edgeways Productions. This subterranean cavern is very deceptive and on entering one would imagine that the pillars would always be in the way, but the sight lines are excellent from any seat and the two big stumpy brick supports often come in useful as part of the set, even if only to lean things against. Roberts manages to create several locations in the mountains of the Lake District where Jake (Tom Claxton), a drop-out, alternative-lifestyle recluse, spends his days shooting game or setting traps with his companion dog and also catching fish. The rivers and streams also provide water and a place to wash clothes, which is what we find him doing as the play opens. The sound of running water is one of several effects, along with the whistling wind, the rain and a helicopter that Roberts and Director Janys Chambers have effectively woven into fell to give a vivid sense of place and circumstances. Jake's solitary existence is interrupted by the arrival of Lyle (Ned Cooper), a local lad who has wandered up the hillside instead of going into school, although he set out with good intentions and is wearing his uniform. Jake had seen him lurking around from a distance so was not surprised when he turned up at his latest camp, hungry and thirsty.The two contrasting figures are now thrown together in an adventure that will carry surprises as Jake queries what Lyle is up to and the lad in turn uncovers the layers of life that have brought him here. Cooper convincingly captures the age and essence of the socially inept and naive fifteen-year-old boy, who is not without his moments of wit and humour. Claxton, meanwhile exudes the confidence Jake has, built on the knowledge and experience of a young man who has learnt the art of survival and how to fend for himself. Both actors are completely secure in their roles and know how to create convincing characters and interact with precise timing. Jakes skills will sustain Lyle and the care he has for him will ultimately allow him to reveal what has been going on in his life. All the elements combine to make fell an intriguing and heartwarming tale, initially full of mystery, followed by turns of events and finally a tragic confession. It’s a real joy to watch a compelling play in old-style story form. There are no complexities of meaning or interpretations and symbolism with which to grapple. This is a well-crafted story, sensitively directed and performed with integrity.

There is an intriguing opening to The Island at the Cervantes Theatre. It fully embraces the title of the play by Juan Carlos Rubio in this translation by Tim Gutteridge, directed by Jessica Lazar, but its significance as a metaphor for their predicament becomes apparent only as the story unfolds. It works well as a prologue, creating a sense of mystery as to what might follow.The two-hander is focused on the relationship between Ada (Rebecca Crankshaw) and Laura (Rebecca Banatvala). They met when Ada was 35 and Laura only 20, but have now been together for fifteen years. They sit in the hospital waiting room for news of their son Samuel, whom Ada carried, courtesy of a sperm donor. He was born with a damaged brain and has now fallen out of the window of their 7th floor apartment.At this tense moment in their relationship, conversation becomes increasingly stressful as a range of often difficult subjects and issues are brought under the spotlight. The most awkward to confront is whether they really want Samuel to survive or whether his death would open up the prospect of a new life that no longer had to deal with his challenging behaviour, would offer greater freedom and the opportunity to work on repairing their faltering relationship. Ada’s faith in God, with whom she communicates on close terms, seems not to rule this out. Laura is less convinced, however, but then her mind is occupied by handling her parents and dealing with another lover she believes to be a secret. Laura’s a cop; though why we need to know this is not really explored. Ada’s distanced approach to children probably stems from her years as a teacher, though she loved her dealings with them. Crankshaw displays the greater maturity that might be expected in such a relationship, while Banatvala still seems very young, given the years that have passed. Apart from an accident with a gin and tonic it would be interesting to know more about what drew them to each other. Indeed, the writing has plenty of material but there is little depth to its exploration.The Island is engaging with creditable performances, but remains aloof rather than moving. There is no sense of feeling anything at the emotional level for either character and likewise for their son.

Billed as ‘documentary theatre’ Lessons on Revolution at the Hope Theatre is a fascinating excursion into performance and the creative process that challenges the traditional in both spheres.Its abnormality starts at the ticket check, when greeted with something along the lines of, “There are a lot of parts in this play and the cast would like your help by reading out loud some lines. If you’d like to do that I’ll place a sticker on you and then they will know they can approach you.” The seating is also unconventional. In addition to the usual chairs there is also the option of a cushion on the floor.Once inside Gabriele Uboldi and Sam Rees provide a warm welcome in their room made homely by a large pink carpet. They greet us and offer tea and biscuits as they circle the table that has loose pages of script on it and an overhead projector, looking like a relic of 20th century classroom furniture, entirely appropriate for a play rooted in the 60s. Probably pre-dating even that is the record player, located on the tea trolley, complete with an LP that will scratch away during various scenes. Projections and set courtesy of Ella Dale with lighting by Laurel Marks see us through various events and moods.Period established, the metatheatrical show continues with some information about themselves and then, ingeniously, both the story and the process of writing and researching it unfold hand-in-hand. The play is inspired by events at the London School of Economics (LSE) in 1968 when 3000 students occupied parts of the building in protest at the appointment of Walter Adams as Director in 1966. As principal of University College of Rhodesia his affiliation to members of the white majority government of Ian Smith, that had made a unilateral declaration of independence (UDI) from the UK, made him a target for those opposed to the regime there.This is the start of a complex interweaving of multiple events during that period that led to years of protests on many fronts. Uboldi and Rees do a laudable job in establishing connections between banks, oil companies, the Nigerian Civil War and Adams. Into the melting pot of campaigns are then thrown the Prague Spring, protests against the war in Vietnam, the civil rights campaign in the USA and the death of Martin Luther King and the Paris riots. It’s an activist's dream and captures the heady days when hopes of revolution and overturning the system filled the air. Linking them all together is a tribute to the detailed research they carried out in archives, photos and first-hand accounts. Making it accessible in such a short running time through the medium of this play is a triumph of writing and performance. However, it demands full attention, otherwise it’s possible to miss a key point and wonder how we got from A to B. And it’s not over yet. The guys also add the personal dimension of events and people in their own lives raising issues of suicide, homophobia and racism; situations that ask what radical change means today in an age of inequality and injustice and if there is anything to be gained from listening to voices from the pastLessons on Revolution is an intriguing and bold piece of theatre that stands out for the way it crafts a swathe of material into a coherent performance piece that incorporates the methodology that created it.

The play’s excessively long title has a folktale ring to it and with only limited knowledge of Balkan history sounds like a work of comic fantasy. In fact, the story that makes up The Brief Life & Mysterious Death of Boris III, King of Bulgaria, at the Arcola Theatre, is exactly what it purports to be. Perhaps the monarch’s name makes it sound something of joke, but then they could have used his full name; Boris Klemens Robert Maria Pius Ludwig Stanislaus Xaver of the House of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha-Koháry. That aside, be prepared for perhaps the most entertaining and amusing history lesson ever devised. (The boring version follows below.) Packed full of humour, David Leopold, Sasha Wilson (joint writer), Clare Fraenkel and Lawrence Boothma make for a show performed by an ensemble of energetic, witty and comic actor/musicians playing multiple roles headed by Joseph Cullen (joint writer) as the inexperienced ruler faced with situations for which he was ill-prepared. With folk music and songs that draw on both Bulgarian and Jewish traditions, with some sung in their original languages, there is a sense of the people and region involved.Boris became king at the age of twenty-four, succeeding his father, Ferdinand I, who abdicated in 1918 following the country’s defeat in World War I, in which territories were ceded and it was forced to pay huge reparations. His early reign was plagued by internal feuds and numerous prime minister, the last of whom he sacked in 1935 after which his appointments effectively made him an absolute ruler. This meant that when the Second World War came he was the man who determined policy.Initially he chose the path of neutrality, but Germany helped him to regain territories in the Treaty of Craiova and he approved laws designed to ‘protect’ his country from the influence of Jews and denied them citizenship. The idea of regaining lost territories appealed to Boris and in 1941 he joined the Axis, allowing the country to be used as a base for German troops to invade Yugoslavia and Greece, from which he gained yet more lands, but refused to join the war against the Soviet Union. It was from those territories that Jews were deported to Treblinka. Under public pressure and troubled by his compliance he saved some 50,000 Bulgarian Jews by sending them to labour camps around the country. His death in 1943 at the age of 49 continues to be riddled with speculation about poising by any one of several groups.The complexities of the situations Boris finds himself are presented at speed under Director and Dramaturg Hannah Hauer-King but nevertheless suggest the difficulties he faces dealing with rival factions in the country and the largely pro-Nazi members of his wartime cabinet. His equivocations are laid bare and while he might have preferred to remain seated painfully on the fence we see how he was ultimately forced into compromise. Out of the Forest Theatre have done an excellent job in researching this story of a leader, unknown to most people and largely forgotten by others, but whose life raises issues and dilemmas that still beset nations and politicians today.

Described as a ‘one-woman show chronicling the life of Kate Kerrigan’ Am I Irish Yet? lays bare her problem as soon as she opens her mouth. No one would guess that she is in any way Irish. Her point, of course, is that being Irish is not defined by a way of speaking, an accent or the brogue. Being Irish is about what’s inside you; how you feel and where you sympathies lie and if you can add being born as second generation Irish with parents from Ballina, Co. Mayo and Killoe, Co. Longford, with the name Morag Prunty, then surely that should be enough to make you qualify.Her childhood, however, and hence formative years, were spent growing up in Hendon, north London, after a short spell in Scotland, until her mother decided she didn’t want her to have an accent from there. She married an Irishman and has two (Irish) children and has spent thirty-five years living in the Republic. So is she still a ‘Plasic Paddy’? It seems that people can change the description as the mood takes them.In the 80s it suited many to see her as one of the ‘Bombing Irish’ yet in Ireland she was introduced to people as one of the ‘English cousins’. Living in London she was under threat from the same bombs as everyone else, even though her whole family were IRA supporters. She was working in a hairdresser’s next to Harrods in her late teens when the bomb went off in 1983. This and many more anecdotes, stories and accomplishments are forthcoming to illustrate the complex situations in which she has found herself over the years and the enduring issue of identity which will never leave her.There is humour in her passionate and serious message, because that is the nature of life when you are dealing with people whose understanding of your situation is either completely lacking or totally misguided. It’s also refreshing to hear an angle on being Irish that is almost never expounded. Indeed that is one of her reasons for doing this show. Quite where it falls on the entertainment spectrum is difficult to say. Much of her performance sounds like an interview or late night chat show with an absent host. We hear the answers and can only surmise the questions.Am I Irish Yet? Makes a valuable contribution to the identity debate; the answer to the question, “Where are you from,” that is asked of so many people from all over the world. In an age of diasporas the answers, like her show, are fascinating, often surprising and always worth reflecting upon in terms of how we perceive people.

Religious fervour and football fanaticism have much in common, so it seems entirely appropriate that Patrick Marber’s changing-room drama, The Red Lion should open to the sound of verses that have greeted monarchs entering Westminster Abbey for their coronation since 1626. Parry’s choral setting prepares us not to ‘go into the house of the Lord’ but to enter a temple dedicated to the ‘beautiful game’.This is no plush Premier League venue, however, rather home to a struggling semi-professional football club in the sticks, desperately trying for promotion. And don’t expect a sweaty locker-room of beefcake and banter. Set and Costume Designer Zoe Hurwitz nails the location, but Marber leaves it empty, with no distractions to take away from his close-up three-hander that goes beneath the surface of the sport to explore the levels of commitment, murky ambitions and corrupt dealings of those with power and influence, whose goals go beyond a ball in the back of the net.Crispin Letts opens as Yates, the old-school kit-man, ironing shirts, who has given a lifetime of service to the club in various capacities and become a local legend. In contrast, Kidd (Alastair Natkiel), the current manager is an egotistical, self-seeking piece of work who will profess his loyalty to the club but is really using it to further his own ends and more immediately provide him with some much-needed cash.His hopes are raised with the arrival of Jordan, a highly-talented new player. Olatunji Ayofe embraces the lads naive persona and the Christian rationale for his expressed honesty and moral high ground. However, as the story progresses Jordan’s cover-up is revealed and his ability to live with contradictions is exposed along with his temper. The other two both see their fulfilment in Jordan. Letts give’s an up-front performance of a man of honesty and integrity who sees in the boy the chance of his club being restored to its former glory, but in so doing engages in a pact with Jordan that will be a boost to his own sense of self-importance, calling into question his real motives for becoming a father-figure to him. Natkiel looks the part of a young manager, exuding confidence and ambition and seeking success, perhaps as compensation for his failed marriage. But in a world of giants, he is small-fry and he ultimately finds himself out of his depth in the wheeler-dealer stakes and the ethical stance of the Board.The ‘beautiful game’, about which Marber knows so much, is ultimately a just a vehicle for exposing the flawed human condition and the morality, motives and means it deploys. Director Douglas Rentoul sees this and takes all involved on an a compelling journey of emotional demands and inner struggles. He makes a welcome return to The Queen's Theatre Hornchurch, with this production that he has brought from his from his new post as Chief Executive/Artistic Director at The New Wolsey Theatre, Ipswich.

Taking on The Threepenny Opera can be a precarious business, as OVO demonstrate, without flinching from the challenge. They promise ‘a riotous and a rough reimagining of Bertolt Brecht's zany musical’. They don't stop there with the assurances but go on to say that in his ‘spirit of experimentation this ambitious modern update of theatre's first musical defies theatrical convention whilst aiming to shock, engage, mock and even disturb its audience’. It begs the question as to whether the production lives up to the hype.The claim to its being ’theatre's first musical’ is at the very least questionable. Brecht himself referred to it as ‘a play with music’ and it would take more than this rendition to shock an audience nowadays. A couple of things stand out from the start. With instrumentalists spread around the front rows, Musical Director Lada Valesova has her work cut out just establishing where they are, who’s playing in a particular number and which way to face. However, she looks the part in black tails; though it might be more as a circus ringmaster than conductor. But it all comes together and justice is done to Weil’s punchy music.With audience on four sides of the performance square, the cast of over twenty actor/musicians are well directed in using the space by Adam Nichols with Julia Mintzer and weaving their way in and out of the central scaffolding frame. That structure suggests a construction site, underscored by a cast mostly in hard hats with bright orange and yellow hi-vis jackets. Bottom halves of shop mannequins are frequently hung up and moved around. When when combined with the abattoir scene they suggest the fate that might await those who cross the path of Macheath (Peter Watts); that nasty piece of work around whom the action revolves. Others, hanging by a noose, indicating what awaits even a petty criminal. Then there are the people in white coats, with the appearance of lab workers, who keep the proceedings in order as they announce the fleeting scenes over the tannoy. The overall effect is to make the production more ridiculous than absurd. The harsh London setting in which the original was envisioned and to which the text so pertinently relates is lost in the mish-mash of abstract locations amongst the poles. Modern references to the police, political figures and royalty hardly count as an update and counteracts the timelessness of the message. Performances are energetic but songs and text tend to be belted out rather then letting the subtleties of the music and the nuances of the script do their work.Somewhere beneath the medium with all its shenanigans is Brecht’s message: A socialist critique of the capitalist world; far simpler and much purer.

A sincerely told story, a captivating performance and a wealth of humour make for a well-spent eighty minutes upstairs at The Lion & Unicorn Theatre with David Patterson, who makes his writing and acting debut with The Old Queen's Head, directed with precision by Ben Anderson.There is no shortage of material in the coming-of-age genre and plenty that focuses on young men coming out as gay. Many of those seem to recycle a well-trodden path of events that make them highly predictable. Patterson’s piece inevitably has some of those elements. He eventually announces his homosexuality to his friends, his parents and his gran, as many have before. The joy of The Old Queen’s Head is the way Patterson relates these moments and the amusing conceptual framework within which they are placed.David lives alone; well almost. The section of his apartment we see has a large rectangular, regal-looking rug, maybe even carpet. There’s a chair he is able to move around to create scenes in different locations, but the fixed points are two pairs of white, chest-high classical pillars surrounded by items of mess from everyday life with a few books placed on the tops. Surmounting one of these is a small white bust of her late Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, anthropomorphised to such an extent that it provides the qualifier to his solitary life.He and this particular Queen have clearly been together for some time and have a close relationship. She is his conscience and advisor; the one who challenges his preconceived notions of identity and self-worth; his alter-ego and trusted friend with whom he converses in matters ranging from outfits to boyfriends. What else is there in a gay man’s life? It’s a clever idea that lifts the introspection from begin just a vocalised internal dialogue to the level of comedic and sometimes angry exchanges with someone whom we know and whose views and opinions we can imaginatively surmise, even though we have no evidence on which to base such suppositions.This context enlivens the whole discourse, but the energy is deeply rooted in Patterson himself. He has a presence that makes one feel at ease. His fresh-faced complexion, bright eyes and endearing smile underline his innate confidence, but it is his voice, combined with inherent physicality that carries the day. He hails from Erskine and his rich Scottish accent is well-rounded; his enunciation perfectly clear and his voice mellow yet with a sharp edge; the more clipped, guttural and slurred timbre being reserved for when he has disagreements, is riled, or has perhaps spent too long with Glaswegians; an unlikely occurrence given that he went to St Andrews In all cases it’s a delight to listen to and perfectly suited to the art of storytelling, including the portrayal of the odd Sassenach intruder into his life,The stories about his first boyfriend, James, and then Fraser, the one he really fell in love with, come with the usual mix of joy and sadness. The family encounters are a familiar mix of ups and downs and his gran is someone really special whom he clearly loves, but it is the humour and facial expressions with which everything is invested that raises the level of this solo show with a succession of laugh-out-loud situations and one-liners delivered with precision.Patterson says of his show: “It’s a story that I feel is important to tell, and I hope it will make people laugh, cry and think. Ultimately, it’s about the discovery of queer joy and all the love and silliness that brings - even though getting there can be tough.” And there you have it. Look out for this play; it will be an experience to cherish.

Two lives come together in an unlikely match. Dan is a carpenter; Geordie through and through who is on the mend after a heart attack. Katie has just arrived from London. She finally has a council house for herself and the kids even though its meant moving to an unknown part of the country where she doesn’t know her way around and has no friends or family. This stage version of the BAFTA and Palme D’or award-winning 2016 film, I, Daniel Blake, by Ken Loach and Paul Laverty is an adaptation by Dave Johns who won the Best Actor award at the British Independent Film Awards and Best Newcomer at the EMPIRE Awards for his performance in the title role. He has clearly brought his profound understanding of the play to this stunning production. His skills as an actor and comedian have clearly played into the creation of a script that drives the strong characters, infuses scenes with humanity and balances the tragic within the cheerful. As Ken Loach has said, “This story is more relevant now than ever. And who better to put it on stage than Dave Johns, the original Daniel Blake?”I, Daniel Blake is a social critique that reaches to the heart of the staggering disconnect between the fine words of self-aggrandising Tory politicians and the realities of life for people caught in the bureaucratic minefield of unemployment, housing and benefits claims. The elected elite are poignantly condemned by the their own mouths. As we hear extracts from speeches by the likes of Cameron, Johnson, Coffey and May their words appear on the back wall, equally elevated. Meanwhile, we continue to observes the struggles of Dan and Katie whose lives remain untouched by the rhetoric.Bryony Corrigan plays single mum Katie with simplicity and passion; a woman just trying to do the best for herself and her daughter, Daisy (Jodie Wild). Having missed a job-seekers appointment and unable to afford housing in London, a place is found for her in Newcastle which she acccepts to give them both a roof over their heads and the prospect of a secure future. She sacrifices their life in the capital, the city they know so well, to become strangers in an alien environment. Here she goes to unimagined lengths to put bread on the table. Corrigan relates her predicament with heart-rending honesty and grim resignation in a performance that would move the hardest of hearts.The warmth, hospitality and generosity of the locals up north is personified in the character of Daniel by David Nellist, who is a natural for the part. Originally from Wallsend, wedged between Newcastle and North Shields, his father worked in the shipyards. This is not just another acting job for him; it's as much a contribution to the sort of social campaigning of which the region is proud. Prior to the play’s tour he cycled 350 miles from London to Newcastle to raise awareness of the national crisis in food poverty. During rehearsals he was regularly seen at Newcastle’s West End Foodbank, having previously volunteered at his local food bank in Clapton, London, during the pandemic. Daniel’s heart condition renders him unable to work on doctor’s orders. Though not an uncommon reason to be out of work, it seems to come as a surprise to those administering benefits and allowances for the unemployed and job seekers and conflicts with their own Work and Capability Assessment about which they did not consult his doctor. He decides to appeal and becomes trapped in the demands and procedures of the system. Janine Leigh does a convincing job as the claimants officer, talking the talk of a well-rehearsed script that spouts terms and conditions while raising barriers and failing to meet the needs of clients. As Daniel goes round in circles trying to resolve his predicament he has a chance meeting with Katie whom he befriends and assists. It’s a life-changing encounter for them both.Kema Sikazwe (aka Kema Kay), who was spotted by Ken Loach on a visit to Newcastle, enthusiastically reprises his role from the film as China, a young wheeler-dealer merchant also befriended by Daniel, who takes to the streets with his dodgy trainers, revealing how the young and imaginative inventively try to survive. Meanwhile down at the local garden centre Harry Edwards (Micky Cochrane), the owner offers a glimmer of employment hope for Daniel that comes to nothing when the benefits system again gets in the way. Cochrane adeptly portrays the an initially likeable and helpful character who then turns nasty when Daniel is unable to take up the job offer. Without understanding Daniel’s predicament he labels him a benefits’ scrounger. In contrast, Wild, in her stage debut, movingly portrays the struggling daughter and turns out to be the one who lifts Daniel out of his depression.The Joseph Rowntree Foundation 2022 Poverty Report stated that some 14.5 million people are living in poverty in the UK. Four years earlier, The challenges of this situation, highlighted in I, Daniel Blake, were dismissed by the then Work and Pensions Secretary, Damian Green, who simply pointed out that the film was a ‘work of fiction’, as though that made everything OK. Since then then the state of affairs has deteriorated. More than ever this play is a massive indictment of Tory government policy and the realities of life for people caught in the bureaucratic minefield of unemployment and benefits claims and those who can’t even contemplate becoming embroiled in it. Brilliant performances and direction create a distressing and deeply moving piece of social theatre that brings this message home.

The contribution of Stephen Sondheim to musical theatre was commemorated in a one-off tribute show last year, following his death in 2021. Rather than being placed in moth balls, Cameron Mackintosh clearly decided that it might do well at the box office. It was an opportunity too good to be missed. Hence, the show has now been revived and recast to join the ranks of West End musicals, arranged thematically to include some of the most memorable numbers from the repertoire that has sustained Sondheim’s reputation as one of the greatest composers and lyricists of his time.He is the unifying element in a production that moves from one show to the next. There is no linking commentary on the content so changes are often quite abrupt, particularly in the earlier parts of the show, as we roll along from one number to the next, with an outstanding series of chorus numbers and songs by the stars, under the accomplished conductor Alfonso Casado Trigo. Matthew Bourne’s direction comes into its own when moody three-tier sets by Matt Kinley are rolled in from the wings and double-up for extracts from Sweeney Todd and West Side Story. We are transported from the glitz and glamour of Hollywood to Mrs Lovett’s Pie Shop where Lea Salonga is joined by Jeremy Secomb to rustle up the infamous pies with comic gusto before she goes on to a heartrending performance of Somewhere on the streets of New York. Warren Letton’s lighting enhances every performance, while George Reeve has particularly splendid moments with projections that create the setting for Into the Woods and Sunday in the Park with George; his transformation of the associated painting from a lone sketchy figure to a canvas in shades of grey that meld into full colour being outstanding.Among the big names Bernadette Peters, surprisingly making her debut in the West End at the age of 75, is perhaps amongst the most anticipated. Joined by a demonically-costumed and bare-chested Bradley Jaden, who menacingly greets her in Hello, Little Girl she gives an earthy and haunting rendition of I Know Things Now, in stunningly vivid red cloak; a double-bill of costume success that matches the rest of the show courtesy of Jill Parker. The much-anticipated renditions by Peters of the moving Send In The Clowns and Losing My Mind, however, whilst effectively melancholy, fell disappointingly short of the mark in terms of vocal performance. In contrast, Bonnie Langford gives an exuberantly amusing dimension to I’m Still Here and shocks with a gymnastic splits. Jac Yarrow similarly drains every ounce of humour from On the Steps Of The Palace as does Joanna Riding in I’m Not Getting Married Today. Meanwhile, the innocently surprised look on the face of Janie Dee as she delivers a perfectly enunciated tongue-twister in The Boy From makes it all the more amusing. Jason Pennycooke also brilliantly gets his tongue round the fast-paced Buddy’s Blues in modern music-hall comedic style.It’s a glittering show packed with life, energy and outstanding talent that’s not afraid to bring the level down at times to reflect the range of Sondheim’s writing and which confirms his status as one of the greatest in his field. He once observed of his career, “I certainly wanted my name in lights”. He achieved that, and now no longer with us his name still shines brightly and in our hearts he will always sing, “I’m Still Here.”

We're all familiar with mess in one form or another, but for most of us dealing with it is probably not an all-consuming activity in the way that it is for writer and performer Jenette Meehan. Mess used to be her secret, unless you knew her particularly well and had seen inside her flat. After years of dealing with this issue, she has finally summoned up the courage to make it public and to share her experience in the form of Mess Maker, directed by Bethany McHugh, with dramaturgy by Dorothy Oehmler and produced by Estelle Homerstone. The play forms the substance of her MFA dissertation at Rose Bruford, so it’s likely to see further development, but last weekend she had a two-night run at the Bridge House Theatre, Penge.The play is far from being just an academic exercise; it’s also a cathartic experience in the way that ‘coming out’ situations are often described. The mass of stuff we see on entering the studio is not simply a theatrical set; it is genuinely part of her real flat which she has transported to perform in. Apparently, there is plenty more where that came from! For now, we are her guests; each of us is the person who has popped in to see her, not totally unannounced but whose arrival left her insufficient time to fully tidy up. Not that it would make much difference. With all the time in the world, her room would probably never achieve a level of tidiness that most of us might consider normal, unless we live with a similar condition.We’ve probably all seen programmes about notorious hoarders; people whose flats are piled high with a lifetime’s collection of newspapers, leaving almost no room in which to live. That’s the extreme end of this spectrum, which we are all on, but some are further along than others. Jenette is not one of those, bus she does have a large collection of stuff that has accumulated over the years that she cannot bring herself to throw away. She knows the history of each garment and treasures the memories that go with each item of clothing or object. She has friends who declutter their own homes by passing stuff on to her and she values these items for their association with people she knows, so they can’t possibly be thrown out. She has a system for dealing with this stuff, at least in theory and in her own mind. Baskets and boxes abound. There is even a suitcase that is home to a collection, but there seem to be no boundaries to the system, hence items overflow from one area to another, things are re-classified and the scheme is frequently changed so that in reality there is no overall plan, just a sea of good intentions. Thus the room becomes the outward manifestation of her mind. What we see all around her is the expression of what is going on in her head.It’s a mental issue and we know that theatre and comedy abound at the moment with people making shows out of their conditions. The joy of Mess Maker is that it’s not a piece of self-indulgent navel-gazing. She is not saying, “Oh woe is me. Look how I suffer. Don't you feel sorry for me?” Rather it’s a celebration of her lifestyle. One that is different, but that through it’s exposition brings us to realise that we all have idiosyncrasies and quirks; things that amuse or irritate people, but that they are all part of life’s rich tapestry. Her finally overcoming the door, the physical expression of her mental barricade, takes us on a journey that is revelatory in terms of appreciating others, acknowledging their lives and giving free rein to her senses. Travelling the underground will never be the same again. From now on we’ll all be more observant and imaginative. But outside she misses having a secure place in which to cry, which is the upside of staying indoors. And boredom is not an issue for her. She says something along the lines of, “I have spent so much of my life trying to disappear. Boredom is an opportunity to build a world in the back of my head”.And so she settles to a night of rest, fantasies and imaginings, before facing another day of mess and we can leave her with gratitude for having shared this part of her life and in so doing giving us a life-enriching experience to savour.

The extent to which you appreciate James Graham’s adaptation of Boys from the Blackstuff might depend partly on how well you know Alan Bleasdale’s original television series. It consisted of just five episodes, originally transmitted from 10th October to 7th November 1982. They were a follow-up to the one-off The Black Stuff, performed in the Play for Today series in 1980, although it had been filmed in 1978.It soon developed a cult following and the dates are important, because it’s critique of high levels of unemployment and the personal and social consequences that come with it coincided with the election of Margaret Thatcher in 1979 and the austerity and recession that followed. These Boys, however, are not the miners who experienced the bitter confrontations with her and the police. This black stuff is the tar that the five now out-of-work men used as road builders. Amy Jane Cook’s impressive set establishes the industrial dockland setting of Liverpool and flexible gantries prove useful in creating various settings for the action, but the grandeur of the huge cranes seems detached from the specifics of the men’s work; part of another industry and another story. It comes into its own, however, in the scenes when the men are lined up answering the same old questions from the benefits agency, like suspects in an identity parade.The bureaucratic benefits system, and those who administer it with the aim of meeting targets, serves to break down these would-be hard-working men, eroding their dignity and embroiling them in a world of humiliation. However, Director Kate Wasserberg keeps a balance in the moods. The heavy and tragic are contrasted with plenty of wit and humour. Barry Sloane as the unhinged Yosser demonstrates encapsulates this mix, however, his recurring refrain in the original, which became his mantra, is here laboured to death. “Gizza job,” he would say, “Go on, gizzit, go ‘head, giz it if you’ve got it, giz it, I can do it. Giz it then. Go ‘head, gizza job.” The brief scene in which he repeats it ad nauseam to every worker on the street is particularly absurd, but setting that aside he gives a powerful performance as the man driven to anger and tears by the loss of everything he values in life.The rest are in similar situations yet, setting aside the odd dodgy practice, dignity and attachment to principles is a characteristic of these men. This is well illustrated in an emotional exchange between Angie (Lauren O’Neil) and husband Chrissie (Nathan McMullen). By now she is desperate for some income and implores him to take a job he has been offered, but issues of loyalty stand in his way. Snowy (George Caple) similarly sticks to his beliefs in socialism as the way to a brighter future, rather than caving in to the capitalists.Andrew Schofield as George, a retired man of wisdom and sound advice, captures the joy of his age. He’s a refuge to whom others can turn and a man who’s seen it all before and knows how to live through and overcome troubles and mourn the losses the community suffers. His is the voice the government would like us all to listen to as he encourages us to come to each other’s assistance while they abandon us.There are further fine performances from the rest of the cast, many doubling up in multiple roles. There also so several more memorable scenes, but as a whole the production lacks cohesion. The series focussed on the story of one of the men in each instalment. This worked well in the original but that episodic approach also dominates this stage version. Effectively this makes for a series of vignettes that lack depth and provide no more than a series of snapshots about what is going on in their lives and how they relate to each other. It serves to introduce the characters, and set the scene, but we have to wait until act two before the biting effects of their circumstances are brought home.As a trip down memory lane it might have a comfort factor and it's a tribute to Bleasdale's imagination that riled the government of the day.

The ever-flexible performance space at the Playground Theatre is once more transformed with great imagination, this time to accommodate the double bill of Rena Brannan’s Artefact and Tennesse Williams’ Something Unspoken, both directed by Anthony Biggs.In front of the raked seating, tables and chairs are laid out in a cocktail bar, cabaret-style set by Tara Kelly that is appropriately lit by Choreographer and Lighting Designer Steven Dean Moore with Sound Design by Eloise Sheffield.Approach the on-set bar and you’ll be offered a very strong gin martini for as long as stocks last; a nice touch for an evening that kicks off with Artefact, and “a monster under the bed”. It turns out to be no more than an unopened letter, that Betty Ford has discovered, but its contents have a huge impact on the future First Lady, who descends into a whirlwind of emotional distress about its message and her life in general. It’s set in 1965, the year of her nervous breakdown, whilst enduring addiction to prescription drugs and the consumption of what she regarded to be a normal amount of alcohol, that was anything but. Brannan’s wife Sophie Ward plays the part along with Sarah Lawrie in a silent movement role and also a dance sequence with Ford. It transpires that Julia, Ford’s college roommate from years ago was in love with her. If she had only known then what she knows now, how different life might have been. It’s the catalyst that ignites a gin-fuelled reflection on people, places and events and the times they spent together. Ward sensitively balances the now wishful thinking with remorse, joy and anger before Ford is overcome by the alcohol and remains slumped on the bar during Something Unspoken which follows seamlessly.In stark contrast to the slouched Ford, Amanda Waggott assumes the upper area of the split-level staging created to elevate this play. She exudes an air of privilege and status with a commanding presence befitting a wealthy spinster from the Southern aristocracy in 1950s Mississippi, though her drawl wavers back and forth across the Atlantic. Cornelia Scott is a society woman, currently aspiring to the position of Regent of the Confederate Daughters, a position she knows to be rightfully hers after so many years as a loyal and active member of her local chapter. For now all she can do is wait for a phone call to tell what’s happening at the electoral convention she has declined to attend in the belief that she should place in position by acclamation. She will not meddle in the dirty waters of a campaign. To stand in a competitive election would be vulgar and beneath her dignity, but things turn out to be less straightforward than she had planned, as updates on the situation come ringing in. This day also makes fifteen years since Grace (Sarah Lawrie) became her secretary, which she marks by buying her fifteen roses. It’s a subtle indication of the love she bears for her.; the very something that has remained unspoken. She hopes this simple gesture might further her intentions, but Grace knows very well how to out manoeuvre her and engages in a series of diversionary tactics. Lawrie plays the game with ripened awareness, deflecting the shots that come her way.It makes for an interesting double bill of sapphic exploration that juxtaposes the lesser-known short work of perhaps the greatest of playwrights from the USA with a modern vignette that relates to a flawed yet exceptional woman.

With horrific events occurring around the world, The White Factory at The Marylebone Theatre, written by Dmitry Glukhovsky’s and directed by Maxim Didenko comes as a poignant reminder of the misery and conflict that individuals and nations have visited upon each other. As Russian Jews who are political exiles and vehemently outspoken critics of Putin and the war against Ukraine, these two men bring intimate experience to the subject of this gripping tragedy. Set over several decades, The White Factory explores the life of Yosef Kaufman (Mark Quartley). Unlike his wife Rivka (Pearl Chanda) and their children, who were sent away on a train never to return, he survived the holocaust in the Polish city of Lodz. As he tries to build a future with his new family in 1960’s Brooklyn, he is haunted by his wartime experiences and relives the torment of decisions he was forced to take. Quartley captures that torment and anguish in the many situations that beset him with his family and the authorities. He’s matched by Chanda who as his wife, a mother and a daughter captures the struggles of holding a family together. They have two young boys whose innocence is delightfully played out by two pairings of either Paul-Hector Antoine and Aron Yacobi as Hector or Leo Franky and Lucas Allermann as Volf. Meanwhile. Adrian Schiller as their grandfather, meanwhile, embodies the tiredness of an old man who has been through too much in life to have to face what is happening now.Lodz enjoyed a special position amongst occupied cities in which the Jewish quarters were often simply ransacked and razed to the ground and its inhabitants sent to concentration camps. The Lodz ghetto became a manufacturing centre where buildings were converted to meet the ever-increasing demands of the German army. The eponymous workplace was a former Catholic church, its name coming from the white feather pillows the labourers made. The image is taken up in Galya Solodovnikova’s startling white-light geometric,sliding stadium frame with brilliant white interior in which the action takes place. It responds to the purity of lighting by Alex Musgrave and forms the perfect screen for Oleg Mikhailov’s projections. Julian Starr adds to the clinical setting with a subtly understated and softly haunting soundscape that has a plaintive piano motif repeated throughout. All elements of this production combine to create a deeply moving and profoundly thought-provoking drama. The city's commandant is Wilhelm Koppe, forcefully and mercilessly played by James Garnon, often in a manner of someone who believes he is doing good. he places individuals and community leaders in an unenviable position. Is it a betrayal of your people if you join the Ghetto police, so that at least they they are under the supervision of their own? Should Chaim Rumkowski (also played by Adrian Schiller) have accepted the appointment as Elder and become part of the Nazi machine? At least he can speak in an official capacity to both sides even if he has no freedom to decide the ultimate message. Does his respectability make him any less a collaborator when he is trying to make up the ever-rising numbers for deportation to the camps in order to meet targets set by his masters? Would the alternatives be even worse than what they currently have? At least for now some are still living. Schiller embodies all these questionings and the associated rationalisations of his position as a man simply doing what he thinks best and dealing with the consequences.In the hushed atmosphere of the auditorium created by this chilling scenario we are left to reflect. Can we ever be so bold as to condemn or judge the actions of those placed in impossible situations of which we have no experience and that defy imagination? Can we ever trust those in authority to stand by their word and do as they promise? Where would we stand and what we do if confronted by anything similar? The play has enough issues to stoke the fires of debate for far longer than just the journey home.

The traditional direction of migrants seeking a better life is turned on its head in Emanuele Aldrovandi’s Sorry We Didn’t Die At Sea (translated by Marco Young) at the Park Theatre.Set in a not-too-distant future, when the economies of their countries have collapsed, three Europeans of mixed ethnicity are forced to flee the continent in search of a better life. They choose the common shipping container method to cross the closed border for which they had previously campaigned. The three strangers have engaged the same people-smuggler at great expense to find them a passage to a new life. Their claustrophobic voyage forms the passing of the play.A burgundy curtain from floor to ceiling shields the thrust floor of Studio 90 on three sides. As it recedes The Burly One (Felix Garcia Guyer) makes his demand for the agreed payment. Aldrovandi’s device of not naming the countries the migrants come from is matched by not giving names to the migrants, which broadens the universality of his message. The Beautiful One (Yasmine Haller), The Tall One (Will Bishop) and The Stocky One (Marco Young) are there with their minimal possessions and wads of cash; dollars being insisted upon as the euro is now worthless. With accounts almost settled the curtains becomes the flap at the rear of the container through which they pass on their journey into the unknown.They each have their own backgrounds and stories, some of which we become privy to, along with lies and imaginings that cover up gaps in their lives and mislead their fellow passengers and The Burly One. As the journeys progresses we realise that that the play is intriguingly genre-defying and challenging, and this assessment is borne out in the programme notes. We are told that it is a ‘dark and comic play’, that is also ‘satirical’ and ‘absurdist’; a work that ‘darkly refracts Europe’s migration crisis’ and asks us ‘to consider the contingency of migrant status, the fragility of civil society, and the risks we run by ignoring the power of the natural world’. It’s a tall order and and perhaps something of an over-reach in terms of combining those different forms along with an element of the macabre combined with pure comedy that hints at farce.There is no doubt, however, that the cast adapts to it perfectly. They ring the changes of style with ease. There is credibility in their delivery because none us knows how we might behave in such a situation or what lengths we might go to in order to survive. There is always a fine line between laughter and tears; tragedy and comedy; self-preservation and compassion for others. There is also the ever-changing balance of power: of how how the strong become weak; the controlling, defenceless and the caring merciless.It’s probably not the play we think it’s going to be. This is no straightforward story of people in boats escaping persecution, famine or war; indeed their reasons for leaving Europe seem rather weak. But it's an insight into the terrifying and uncertain plight of those willing to risk their lives in the hope of brighter future.

Publicity for Lady With a Dog, written and directed by Mark Giesser, at Upstairs at the Gatehouse, promises a version in which ‘Chekhov’s famous short story of romance and infidelity is modernised and reimagined for the British Jazz Age’. As a period descriptor for the years 1923-27 it raises the hope that there might at least be a solitary saxophone somewhere, but there is no hint of the musical genre to be found anywhere.By way of compensation, there is a tango, choreographed by Xena Gusthart, who is presumably also responsible for the rather curious twirl motif actors perform when making certain exits and entrances and when moving props to create a change of setting. The other promise of ‘a dazzling art-deco aesthetic’ also fails to materialise. Costumes designed by Alice McNicholas, reflect the period, but with one exception rely upon a pale pastel palette. The opportunity to reinforce the sense of period through the backdrop, which may have existed in an earlier version, is also missed. Instead of maximising the potential by using the geometry of the age to create a locale, there is a landscape of a Scottish loch, the setting in which most of the action takes place. This is vividly portrayed in artwork resembling painting by numbers, with glaring shades of turquoise and blue depicting the water, with mountains in the background and the eponymous pair gazing into the distance, the lattice frames suggesting the we are on the inside looking out.What’s appealingly clever about this production, however, is how Giesser has added spouses to Chekhov’s original story and how the the four characters are interwoven. Damian (Richard Lynson) is married to Elaine (Laura Glover); Anne (Beth Burrows) - she of the Pomeranian - to Carl (Toby Manley).Damian is a banker, and whilst devoted to his family, in a respectable middle-class way, he is, nevertheless a philanderer and serial seducer, as his wife knows only too well. They have long-since stopped taking holidays together and she is more than happy to have time to herself while he goes off on various womanising jaunts,Hence we find him in a highland hotel surveying the scene rather than the scenery. He espies Ann and, with the formality and subtlety befitting his status and the period, commences his game of cat and mouse. He is fortunate that his prey is in similar position to himself. Her husband has no problem with allowing her to take solo trips, while he sits at home in Wiltshire revelling in his exaggerated war-wound (little more than a recurring eye condition) and contemplating a life in politics, with Ann playing the dutiful supportive role. Perhaps, however , she wants more than that in life. Whilst the main actions is between Damian and Ann, their spouses make frequent appearances and converse with each other and their partners making observations on their lives and relationships that provide perspectives and background on the situation. There are solid performances all round and some witty remarks and even a touch of humour at times. Mostly, however, it is the sense of boredom in the character’s lives that dominates. The prolonged flirtation and observations on social standing provide very little by way of action, intrigue or surprises. For those enamoured of the period and it’s associated manners it might prove rewarding but other might just find it bland.

Was she or was she not fully aware of what she was doing? He certainly was, and for that reason should he have stopped before taking Birdie’s virginity? There’s a suggestion that girls hovering around the age of consent were his weakness. By the end, we know that Dan’s life has moved on from those days, but between then and now there have certainly been plenty of casual encounters with girls and women of all ages. Dan was twelve years older than Birdie and certainly played the field. As a manager at the golf club he had influence and control that gave him power to which curious female staff might be attracted and either willingly or unknowingly succumb. There is much left to speculation in One Under Par at the Bridge House Theatre, directed by Miranda Kingsley, not in terms of what took place on that fateful ninth hole, but rather in what motivated them and how they each felt about what they were doing. Dan is somewhat introverted and not the sort of guy who would talk openly about such matters. Jonny Burman plays him as a very kindly and sincere individual. There is nothing malicious or brutal or about him. On the contrary he exudes a charm that suggests anyone would be safe in his company and that he is a genuinely nice guy. His behaviour at the time seems completely normal and certainly Birdie raises no objections and outwardly has no immediate regrets. Everything on the surface appears entirely consensual and indeed she goes back for more on several occasions and talks about the sensations she experienced with relish.Writer and performer Daisy Roe gives Birdie a very casual demeanour that is interspersed with moments of excitement and thrill on discovering what being with a man can feel like. She is similarly reserved in her later confrontation with Dan, allowing herself one outburst to release the pent up emotions of the intervening years.After she loses her job, something in which Dan is complicit, she moves away from the claustrophobic confines of a village existence for a life in London, about which we are told very little. Then she arranges to meet Dan once more in their old local. She brings with her seven years of reflections on what took place; baggage that she has accumulated and hindsight with which she has interpreted the events and how she believes she felt at the time. She seeks closure to an event that over time has troubled her, but a huge cloud hangs over her rationale and what she is really seeking.Events now unfold in the present. Do we accept her words and actions at face value or should we dig beneath the surface to find what is really motivating her? Has the carefree girl who sought pleasure on the green become someone overwhelmed by resentment or is she playing a far more sinister game? And what of Dan? Burman plays him as such a nice guy, would anyone want to see his life ruined, except perhaps Birdie for reasons of revenge?The production at times is rather static and somewhat slow in moving the story forward, but it’s a play that lingers in the mind and leaves ample room for speculation about the motivations of the two characters.

After all the hype from it’s reception elsewhere in Europe combined with the legacy of the original film version, the intriguing yet simple plot and the clear characterisation in Daphne du Maurier's book, the musical of Rebecca by Michael Kunze and Sylvester Levay, translated by Christopher Hampton at Charing Cross Theatre is a major letdown.It all starts fairly well. Lauren Jones as the Second Mrs de Winter makes a furtive entrance through the audience to stand shyly on the apron, completely in character. She delivers the Prologue song, Last Night I Dreamt of Manderley, the solo that looks back at the story of Manderley, the stately coastal edifice that was home to the wealthy Maxim De Winter and his first wife, Rebecca, the woman, who despite her recent death, dominates the story.The subdued start is then thrown into the sort of stuff that makes a musical. Bustling her way through the audience New York would-be socialite Mrs van Hopper (Shirley Jameson) makes a grand arrival at the Monte Carlo hotel with I (as the script refers to the second Mrs de Winter, whom du Maurier deliberately created without a name of her own). She is Hopper’s companion. Maxim de Winter (Richard Carson) sees her and it’s love at first sight, and although the book makes this a whirlwind affair, the marriage occurs so quickly on stage as to lack credibility. However with the deed done, the Monégasque life-style is swept away and the setting moves to Manderley, where there is surprisingly little glamour.Despite the style in which Rebecca would have lived, Nicky Shaw’s set has a spartan bedroom and a morning room with just the essential writing desk. The huge flats, with dull motifs move noisily to create the various rooms and the seashore, often changed behind a thin curtain. The visual effects used for the fire and sea also seem below par by modern standards and contribute to overall shabby feeling. The great staircase is imposing, but again heavily dull, though suited to the stern demeanour of the too-young-looking housekeeper Mrs Danvers (Kara Lane) who cuts a chilling figure standing in their midst when the great demise comes.Both women have fine voices as does Carson, though the universal habit of belting out top notes becomes increasingly jarring. Even for a musical, Rebecca is song-heavy. The official toll of twenty-two doesn’t allow for reprises and while there are poignant numbers amongst them, most notably the title song itself, sung with passion by Kara Lane, there’s much that that might have been left to dialogue or narrative. Then there is the dodgy character of Jack Fervell, Rebecca’s cousin. Alex James-Ward looks every bit a wheeler-dealer merchant or tic-tac bookie in his loud check suit. He’s given a couple of song and dance routines that might have suited the Victorian music hall but cannot be taken seriously in this context where he becomes an out of place joke. The good news on the music front is the eighteen-piece orchestra under Robert Scott that does credit to to the score and also the energetic chorus, even though their big song and dance routine often seem out of place in this tragic tale.Then, when the complexities of the plot become too much for yet another song, there is a strangely out of place investigative scene that delves into finding our what really happened to Rebecca and Maxim de Winter’s involvement in her tragic death. Credit to David Breeds for creating the engaging mentally challenged character of Ben whose memory plays an important part in the unfolding of the story.Given the people involved in this production its shortcomings are surprising and the failure to rise to the challenge of Du Maurier’s great work disappointing.

Who has not experienced a situation in which a surmountable incident escalates out of all proportion? Then, on the way to resolving it, further baggage accumulates around the subject, which in turn spreads into numerous diversionary arguments that become subjects of dispute themselves and overshadow the original argument.Yasmin Reza’s celebrated God of Carnage, for which she won the 2009 Tony Award for Best Play, takes this simple phenomenon as the stimulus for what should be an intense exchange between two couples trying to resolve a playground altercation between their respective sons. The issue, concerning what should be done to resolve or compensate for the situation in which Alan and Annette’s son hit Michel and Veronica’s son in the face with a stick, soon fades into the background, though it is intermittently revived when the couples run out of things to say. Very soon, what starts out as a polite evening of potential reconciliation between the two families soon descends into visceral exchanges that attack the weaknesses of each character and the dysfunctionality of both couple’s marital relationships. The carnage into which the evening descends sees temporary alliances formed between the women against the men and husbands or wives from one marriages lined up against their opposites in the other.Christopher Hampton’s translation of Reza’s carefully crafted dialogue affords opportunities for nuanced delivery, humour, emotional highs and lows, impassioned outbursts, displays of arrogance and conceit along with self-deprecation. These diverse ingredients once thrown into melting-pot should make for an unnervingly tense encounter between these strangers. There should be dramatic waves and an ebb and flow of these elements that create an ever-changing and harrowing landscape. However, director Nicholai La Barrie misses most of these opportunities in a production that is flat, not for lack of energy but from an absence of undulations that should craftily ring the changes of tone and be dramatically captivating and absorbing. Instead, we have monotonously overly-exaggerated, loud exchanges that seem anything but heartfelt.Casting by Heather Basten sees Freema Agyeman and Martin Hutson, respectively play Veronique and Michel Vallon and Ariyon Bakare and Dinita Gohil Alain and Annette Reille. With neither couple is there any sense of marital chemistry that might have brought them together. They stand as individuals whose dysfunctional pairings are exacerbated by vitriolic exchanges and isolated idiosyncratic behaviour. What might otherwise be strained claustrophobic exchanges of people trapped in a sitting room lose potency in Lily Arnold’s visually satisfying minimalist set. Placing it on a revolve, for no apparent reason, without walls leaves it lost in the expansive stage, with the actors often annoyingly blocked by a lamp or statue. Richard Howell’s lighting design is bright, and features a surrounding semicircle of lights that rise at the start of the play and descend at the end. Again, visually impressive but short on significance. Meanwhile, Asaf Zohar’s sound design and composition blasts through the amps as a prelude to the play suggesting only that what might follow is going to be equally grating and loud.The production is a missed opportunity to meaningfully stage Reza’s magnificent work and expose the shallowness of relationships and the superficiality that exists below the veneer of respectability.

This show’s title summons up many associations except, perhaps, the one that forms the foundation of the play. Oggie! Oggie! Oggie! is Stephen Callaghan’s solo work about the life of St Augustine of Hippo (354-430 CE), known to his friends in this story as Oggie, a name to which the Glaswegian actor gives a guttural inflection, that would never have been heard in Augustine's home town of Thagaste in what is now Algeria, but works amusingly and effectively in this Scottish incarnation of the revered Church Father.The show is divided into six sections that chronologically follow the more unsaintly parts of Augustine’s life leading up to his conversion: Youth; Student Life; Fatherhood; Reaching Maturity; Turning Point and Take Up and Read. That life journey also takes him from his home to Carthage, Rome and Milan; each location marking a stage in his progress from sinner to saint, although this tale leaves him mid-life when he is about to embark on the life for which he is famous. His earlier years, however, are vital to his later understanding and without his heretical period his thirteen books known collectively as Confessions would never have been possible.As a student he joins the Subverters, a group that challenged Christianity but was searching for answers to questions of existence. He reads philosophy, relishes Cicero and adopts Manichaeism, a set of early gnostic interpretations of the world as a place of suffering and evil. He meets his love and becomes a father aged nineteen, after which he seeks stability. Haunted by hs own mortality he abandons the teaching of Mani, only to return to them after an illness in Rome, before his mother’s prayers for his conversion to Christianity are finally answered. Before that happens, however, he delivers a panegyric in praise of Caesar, but upon reflection he deems it to be shallow. He meets a beggar. The mother of his child leaves him. He returns to his lustful ways, yet utters the line for which he is most famous, “Lord, give me chastity and continence, but not yet!” He learns from a Roman official about the life and example of St. Anthony of the Desert and is led to the writings of St. Paul, wherein all is revealed to him and his conversion occurs.Callaghan infuses the tale with his signature blend of Glasgow humour and poignancy in a storytelling style worthy of a night out with the lads in the pub. But this is the man who tackles faith-based themes head-on and has won Vatican commissions. He understands that the way Augustine grappled with issues in his life is a timeless and universal quest that captures the malaise of many young people today. It’s the story of the reprobate turned religious told with sincerity and relatable passion.

Another in the seemingly endless flow of musicals about unlikely subjects that prove successful. This time it’s The TUNEabomber, a tunefully jolly and satirical take on The Unabomber, Ted Kaczynski.Kaczynski (1942- 2023), was a mathematics prodigy, who gave up his academic career in 1969 and took to the woods where he lived a simple life. Between 1978 and 1995, he committed three murders and injured 23 others in a nationwide mail-bombing campaign. His targets were people who prioritised progress in technology over preserving the environment. He set out his philosophy in Industrial Society and Its Future, a 35,000-word manifesto and social critique in which he opposed industrialisation, rejected left-wing ideologies and advocated a nature-centred form of anarchism. Moving to a remote cabin near Lincoln Montana in 1972, he became a recluse, living without electricity or running water, deploying survival skills, and becoming self-sufficient. As the destruction of natural habitats around him increased, he decided to battle against it through acts of terrorism. Hunting him down became the longest and most expensive investigation in the history of the FBI. Their case identifier for mysterious perpetrator was UNABOM (University and Airline Bomber). Hence he became know as the "Unabomber".In 1995, in a letter to The New York Times, Kaczynski promised to give up his campaign if The Times or The Washington Post published his manifesto. The authorities appoved it. However his brother David recognized the prose style, and reported his suspicions to the FBI. They arrested Kaczynski in 1996. His lawyers wanted him to plead insanity to avoid the death penalty, but he insisted he was sane. His failed attempt to dismiss the court appointees led to a guilty plea and in 1998 he was sentenced to eight consecutive life terms in prison without the possibility of parole. Kaczynski committed suicide in the Federal Medical Center, Butner, North Carolina in 2023.But suppose he never wanted to be a monster, just a musical theatre star; the next Bob Fosse. In The TUNEabomber Michael Wysong and John Lampe create a musical in memoriam, bringing him back from the grave to perform the musical he wrote and rehearsed in solitary confinement. His audience is the parole board (that’s us) who listens to no avail. Released from his shackles, for a brief time his orange jumpsuit becomes his costume, the lights go up and the keyboard belts out the backing to a symphony of songs that demonstrate the musicality, humour and performance skills of these two highly talented and innovative artists who cover his life-story in a fast-paced 75 minutes at C-Aquila.New York-based director Liz Power invests the show with cabaret theatricality, and the relish the guys have for the show flows in waves throughout the auditorium. As far as they are concerned, the best way to take away any influence this despicable criminal might have is through laughter and they certainly succeed in that.

Thomas is excited about tonight; so excited that he has called his parents and his brother with the time to look out for biggest meteor storm in 33 years that will fill the night sky he adores. His obsessive passion and the fascination he has for stars, along with all the other stuff out there, is the sort of thing that might appear on his eponymous list: Everything That Annoys Me, and You. It doesn’t of course, because it’s his annoying trait, but it’s probably high on the list of his family’s and friends’ (if he has any) and if they are equally neurotic.He’s an amateur astronomer with a cheap telescope that nevertheless looks the part. He’s probably amateur at most things, including life itself. He has a detached relationship with both his mother and father and his phone calls to them usually end in some form of disagreement, with each call further fracturing their bonds. He’s deeply attached to brother Marky, however, but every attempt to call him is met with the same recorded apology for not being available followed by a bleep. Dan Daniels, both playwright and performer, reveals Thomas, or Tank, as he likes to call himself, as a self-conscious and nervous young man, given to rambling discourses that reveal his tensions and, of course, all those things that annoy him which he has listed in volumes of notebooks. It’s an odd, random collection of pet hates, but then that is in the nature of idiosyncrasies. As an expression of his eccentric mindset they serve their purpose, but they seem strangely unrelated to the thrust of the play, as does the title, which places undue attention on this one aspect the discourse. There is a far deeper side to this play that revolves around Tank’s mental health and his inability to reconcile himself to the realities of life and the circumstances in which he finds himself; to come to terms with his academic and social shortcomings and his inability to successfully communicate. He has a flat, a job and some existential moments, but he is still a loser. After some time spent wondering where this play is going and whether Romeo Rygolski’s direction is going to lift it to another level, the big twist occurs and the long build-up finally leads into the grand revelation. The various elements, however, lack a level of coherence that could be added to Tank's list of niggling little things.

Students from Westcliff High School for Boys, Essex, have arrived in Edinburgh with 14-18 Cyrano de Bergerac, an exciting re-imagining of Edmund Rostand’s 1897 classic tale written by the school’s Director of Drama Ben Jeffreys. The military context is heightened in this adaptation by placing the action firmly in the midst of the First World War, far from the delights of Parisian hotels and bakeries. We are reminded of the original throughout, however, by the commitment of Jeffreys to using various styles of verse form including iambic pentameters, tetrametres and rhyming couplets that facilitate variation in the pace of delivery according to the mood of the scene. This feeds directly into the eponymous hero’s skills as a poet. Cyrano also loved music and this piece opens with well-known songs that establish the period before moving on to numbers written specifically for this production that range from jingoistic tunes that accompany the cast’s carefully choreographed marching, to a delightful ballad with guitar. The ensemble convincingly meets the demands of the language and music, and wholeheartedly bring energy to the show.As in the original, Cyrano’s mal-formed nose features largely in the show, although the issue of its precise configuration is overcome by covering it in a swathe of bandages that mask the offending proboscis and make it appear as though he has a war wound, like so many others. However, they don’t hide his self-consciousness and timidity in furthering his romantic intentions. Which brings us to the thrust of the love story, told far more straightforwardly than in Rostand’s character-riddled telling.Jeffreys says, “The play pays respect to some of Britain's best-loved war poets, sent to fight and die for their country but unable to see their sexual orientation accepted by the very country they fought to defend”. Hence we witness the amorous advances of Christian (Jacob Guyler) towards Rex (Maxi Rowe) while Cyrano (Lewis Seal) looks on, restraining his own love for the same man, while becoming involved in their back and forth using his writing and advisory skills. Rostand’s original introduced the word panache into the English language, which the Cambridge Dictionary defines as a stylish, original, and very confident way of doing things that makes people admire you. That being the case, it can be said that the lead trio performed with panache and that it’s a characteristic that applies to the show as a whole.

This intensely personal show is a fascinating performance with hints of a lecture about it and a suggestion that it is really an audience, in this case with Simeon Morris, as he invites us to share his space and life.Morris says of the show, “Essentially, Square Peg is an ouroboros, a snake eating its tail. It charts the story of my life, really, since coming out of a fairly traumatising childhood, how I set about trying to get love and attention through making beautiful objects and then trying to get people to love me through those objects”. His creations are mostly in the forms of dresses, several of which adorn the stage on mannequins, and some leather handbags, a material he discovered later in life and which he found to have a special appeal and that required a different method of working.He demonstrates a small part of his skill when cutting a square of muslin that is dramatically transformed into the basis of a flowing dress, with the deft use of a pair of giant scissors. He explains the important art of cutting on the bias, that give dresses the ability to stretch yet hold their shape. Depending on your upbringing, (mine was with a dress-making mother), there are potentially many moments in the show that will revive often fond memories of childhood. Morris’ early years and several decades that followed were not so happy. They were characterised by trauma, abuse and loneliness that left him yearning for love and belonging; for being part of family and for enjoying the intimacy it might bring; for finding a situation that would quell the heartfelt craving to be seen and cherished.But these were not forthcoming and so the image of the ouroboros enters his mind; the realisation that perhaps the answer lies not in others but within himself and the power of poetry. He learns Hardy’s The Darkling Thrush that talks of ‘blessed Hope’; something which another knew, but of which the writer was unaware and Morris seeks.His style is conversational, laid back, reflective and understated; perhaps even too underplayed for a show, but the openness he has in sharing so much of his life is captivating.

Ticking Clock Theatre brings to life the grim days of the Victorian hangman at the Space Triplex Studio in The Standard Short Long Drop, a fascinating play set in the cell of two prisoners awaiting execution.Lewis "Ludley" Thornhill, is young man condemned to death for stealing a horse, allegedly. But in a world where there is a shortage of hangmen the prison authorities offer him a stay of execution if he will tie the rope and be his cellmate’s hangman. It’s an offer he can’t refuse, not being one to look a gift horse in the mouth. But between accepting the deal and despatching his mate, he still has to share the cell with him, while wresting with his conscious and the morality of saving his own life at the cost of another’s. The doomed man is the enigmatic Alistair, whose contradictions, evasions and devious meanderings often make the the dialogue reminiscent of Pinter’s. In between trying to discover the truth of Alistair’s life and crimes, the pair grapple with issues of social class and the cost of living and ponder the challenges of being, in their eyes, just men in an unjust world. Who performs this might depend on which day you see it. The regular casting is Per Carminger as Ludley and Kevin Wathen as Alistair, but Kofi Dennis also plays both roles: as Alistair to Carminger and Ludley to Wathen, which he did on this occasion. Wathen’s maturity as an actor shines through his commanding performance. His sense of pace and timing make for some playful moments as he twists the conversations with Ludley and creates an air anticipation that leaves us wondering as to where he’s going next in the game of words and blind alleys. Dennis responds but creates a figure who is often lost in Alistair’s confusing responses; a simpler man who is clearly not used to dealing with the abstract and people who are not straightforward and forthcoming. They make an intriguing pair. Both actors clearly relish the complex dynamics in Rachel Garnet’s script which director Natasha Rickman has made into a captivating drama crafted with finesse, allowing the words to reign supreme and the movement to reflect the confines of the cell and the tense atmosphere between the two men. The story might be from a bygone age but it resonates today in this all-round delightful production of The Standard Short Long Drop.

Dancer and performer Elliot Minogue-Stone presents pop art, contemporary dance and cabaret in his brand-new mish-mash show, Groovicle at Zoo Southside.He runs his own tech desk and has perhaps the most laid-back, informal and casual of openings to any show at the Fringe. It’s a style he sustains throughout his performance that sometimes makes it difficult to appreciate that this is actually a show rather than an invitation to just pop round and meet him for a chat and pickle: he opens a fresh jar each day and invites us to partake. It’s an interesting gimmick, but one gets the feeling that biscuits might have gained more partakers.A series of seemingly unrelated. random scenes take us on a journey or, as he describes it, a ‘search of collective discovery about who we are, what we like and how we co-exist’. Nothing that profound seems to exist but there is a jolly interlude when he sings over the ever-amusing The Laughing Policeman, revising the 1922 Charles Penrose song and choosing people to join him in the chorus of laughter; for a few stirring up fond memories of listening to the the record on the gramophone. Somehow, St Teresa of Ávila is roped into the discourse along with a holdall containing mementos from his life; odd and ends; bits and pieces; Geraldine the puppet and various T-shirts. OK, time for a dance. And he takes to his feet to perform one of a number of routines in contemporary style with hints of classicism that presumably express more of himself, for the show is indeed all about him and verges on the self-indulgent. But that too is a reflection of his life that goes back to compensating for wasted time in his childhood classroom by devising games; to overcoming his stutter by using the language of music and dance to express himself.The gigs he invented in those early years seem to have flowed into adulthood, where he still relishes putting stuff together in an attractively quirky show that is oddly pleasing. And don’t forget, as he points out, that to add to his credibility he is the son of the ‘comedy legend’ Ian Stone who also has a show here this year.

The 20 seater upstairs theatre at Riddles Court provides a suitably tight space for The Typewriter, a play based in a cramped office. There’s enough room for WWII propaganda writer Harry Thomas (Tom Browning), his chair and the desk on which sits the noisy period typewriter whose sound creates memories of a bygone age. Another chair accommodates either his assistant, Angeline Edmund (Charlie Upton) his wife Mary Thomas (Esme Jennings) or evacuee Eddie Smith. It’s fortunate that there are only a couple of occasions when more than two people need to squeeze in.Harry fought in WWI and has good reason for not being on the front this time but this doesn’t prevent him from being vilified. His rigid disposition and stressed condition suggest a man with both OCD and PTSD, but those are just incidental. He is overworked, often spending nights in the office,much to the annoyance of his wife. There is an undercurrent that she expects him of having an affair with Angeline, but that never surfaces. The glares the two women exchange as they pass by each certainly leave us in no doubt that there is no love lost between them. Browning portrays just how difficult it is to live and work with Harry, given his focussed attention on his job and his mind full of secrets that he has to guard. Upton brings a classic interpretation of the secretary, dutifully obeying orders and being respectful. Jennings plays the devoted wife, but also exudes the frustration Mary must feel in living with a man who is distant and for whom children are anathema. The announcement of thousands of evacuees coming from London turns their world upside down and Eddie comes to live with them. The outcome of this cocky fourteen-year-old’s arrival is fairly predictable in changing Harry’s attitude towards children and bringing about a mellowing of his disposition. It’s here that various elements of credibility set in. Allowing for blind casting, it is still disconcerting that Browning is far too young to play Harry and Leigh to old and physically mature to play Eddie. Given the etiquette of the day it’s unlikely that Eddie would speak in such a familiar and insulting way to an older stranger in whose house he is a guest and the transformation that occurs in Harry seems to happen far too quickly.The Typewriter has been created by a cohort of seven creatives from Liverpool Institute for the Performing Arts and the quality of acting and production is of the usual high standard associated with LIPA. There is certainly material here for a fuller piece and indeed, it already forms a sequel to an earlier work, The Bunker.

What would it be like for young people if national conscription were still part of growing up; to receive the letter giving you time and place to report for 547 days of duty and have your life transformed overnight; to leave the privacy of your bedroom for the shared dormitory; to say goodbye to your parents, siblings, friends and loved ones knowing that you might never see them again. Then, when it's all over, to return hope and pick up your life as though nothing had happened. But can they ever be the same again?The Grandfathers, from Reconnect Regal Theatre, is the company’s debut production and they have made an impressive start, having just gained a ‘Bright Spark’ Award from Scottish Arts Club that recognises ‘the brightest new talents on the Scottish Theatre scene’. And there’s no shortage of them. A cast of nine just about fits onto the stage; scene set with a unit of soldiers engaging in gunfire with an enemy, sheltered by piles of protective sandbags. The physical battle ends and the Last Post sounds, but it’s followed by stories of personal conflicts and inner strifes combined with the physical demands of army life, the morning muster for training, and the ever-present voice of the sergeant shouting orders.Each of the eight conscripts contributes a story, a perspective or reflection on life in the army and its impact. The norms of battle are illustrated in contrast to the emotional stress it causes for an individual who cannot bring himself to stick a bayonet into even a dummy soldier, let alone a real-life enemy soldier. A young man’s compassion for an injured bird is ridiculed by the more hardened, who see the creature as an intruder they must be rid of. “We can only look after our own, and he is not one of us.” The bird as metaphor resonates at many levels. Panics attacks, the thought of blood and guts, of being captured and ways of dying haunt the novices. And for what? As one point outs, Roman soldiers often received considerable rewards, but for them there will be nothing. Then, to bring everthing into persepctive, there is the letter to write which, if ever delivered, will mean the worst has happened.The ensemble cast of Jack Bishop, Lewis Carlyon, Joseph Coyle, Euan Ferguson, Stuart Fraser, Kieran Lee-Hamilton, David Lister, Colin McGowan and Reece McInroy, give performances filled with physicality and emotional intensity in this play by Rory Mullarkey, tightly directed by Pete Sneddon and Sam Stuart Fraser.

A chance meeting in an art gallery and a new flatmate moving in provide the simple framework for Be Home Soon, a beautifully crafted and sensitively performed debut play from By The Moon theatre company, made up of students and graduates from the University of Manchester.Raf (Arran Kemp) is a struggling would-be young artist, though for the sake of a potential career in the real world he is studying mathematics. As he gazes at various paintings he encounters fellow art-lover Mel (Evie Carricker). Writer Liliana Newsam-Smith’s dialogue captures that awkward moment when two people meet for the first time and are not sure where the conversation might lead. Their exploratory exchanges are nervous and tentative, self-conscious and embarrassed. The delicacy of this writing is sustained throughout and Newsam-Smith has the ability to create situations and awkward moments that often seem very familiar and with which it’s easy to identify, because we’ve all been there.Nowhere is this more evident than when Kaya (Natalia Leaper) arrives. Leaper’s naturally pronounced North Yorkshire accent and gushing presence stands out in splendid contrast to Kemp’s soft Dorset tones. At times he seems mystified by her presence and she knows only too well that she has the habit of opening her mouth and putting her foot in it. The contrast creates some highly amusing moments especially given Leaper’s skilled timing and range of facial expressions.Raf also has to deal with the increasingly challenging suggestions from Mel that will turn his life upside down. Again the contrasts work well; her energy and pushiness encountering his lethargy and reserve. Kemp sustains a hushed and fascinatingly understated performance as a shy, timid and insecure individual confronted my the more ebullient Mel, until about half-way through the play. Then, following a scene in which several glasses of wine are consumed we witness a transformation in Raf’s personality and suddenly Kemp applies his latent energy in one of those magical moments of theatrical metamorphosis that can leave you wondering where he pulled that from. In terms of character and actor this is a changed man and we see a whole new side to both as his relationship with Mel and the world is reshaped.Realtionships build as much as the ingenious set. The two women never meet but rotate in scenes with Raf. Props used in one location become something else in the next in some quite remarkable transitions that emerge from the script but are manged by designer Emily Puddephatt. The sounds of Sofia Armella's compositions enhance the changing moods.Tragedy brings another turning point in the story and by the end we have been taken on an emotional journey from the light-hearted and amusing to the serious and devastating; to an exploration of the haunting power of memories and the need to let go in order to face the future.

Puppetry arguably reached a new level of realism and sophistication with War Horse. The Handspring Puppet Company was the team behind that production and also the remarkable Little Amal-fame. Now they are at the Edinburgh Fringe with another stunning demonstration of the power of puppetryBaxter Theatre’s production of JM Coetzee’s Life & Times of Michael K has been created in collaboration with Handspring and Düsseldorfer Schauspielhaus and adapted for the stage by Baxter’s Artistic Director Lara Foot who also directs the work. The widely acclaimed novel, from which it is taken, set during the 1970s-80s apartheid era in South Africa won the 1983 Booker Prize. It’s a simple yet captivating story told with great clarity and emotional strength. The eponymous male is a humble, unassuming individual whose life was marred from birth by having a cleft lip. It made him an outcast and the butt of jokes. He obtains a job as a gardener, but soon the country finds itself thrown into civil war and martial law is imposed. Concurrently, Michael's beloved mother is taken ill. He decides to quit his job, leave the city and embark on a journey to take his mother back to here to the farm of her birthplace in the town of Prince Albert.His travels prove difficult and the long story captures the difficulties so many experienced in South Africa during that period, even though the war is a fictional event. He suffers the bureaucracy of obtaining permits, arrests, detentions, forced labour, the death of his mother, mental breakdown, pillaging of his land by rebels and many other setbacks in his life. It’s a protracted tale of misfortune and although the show has been reduced over the years to a running time of around two hours it still feels laboured at times, especially when the initial thrill of the puppetry has worn off.But that thrill is quite exceptional. In the hands of Puppet Master Craig Leo and Puppeteers Roshina Ratnam and Markus Schabbing, manipulating Michael and his mother evoke emotional responses that would be a credit to any actor. The use of film close-ups reveals the pain and sadness on their faces and the skill of their manipulators is astounding, going way beyond the art of walking to the complex manoeuvering of mother into a bathtub on a cart and the stirring of ingredients in a bowl.Patrick Curtis’s grand-scale set creates the mood and locations for the story and is well-suited to the expanse of the Assembly Main Hall, enhanced by evocative sounds and music from composer Kyle Shephard and Sound Designer Simon Kohler.Together the creatives and cast have ensured a production of operatic proportions that provides a stimulating blend of multi-media to tell a moving tale.

Nine bubbly teenagers all dressed in white, a reverberating baritone saxophone and an accordion fill the stage around an empty white picture frame mounted on a white easel. They are not about to advertise laundry detergent; rather they are all in search of a theme for their artistic endeavours and the opportunity to create a work of art that will fill the frame, no doubt in a surrealist manner befitting the environment they have created, and prove worthy of the title of 2nd Picture of Dorian Gray.Fortunately for them, it emerges that one of their company might be the great-grandchild of the eponymous narcissist Dorian Gray. While his gives him a major claim to be the subject of the new painting this does not go undisputed. Indeed the bulk of this delightfully bonkers play revolves around rival claims to be the one whose image should fill the frame. There are fine performance all round from the company that consists of, Annabel Browning, Nathan Howe, Annie Hyde, Alex Morgan, Louisa Roberts, Owen Richards, Miranda Robertson, Kate Sale and Luc Schravesande. Tight direction by Tim Coker and fun choreography by Georgia Forsyth keeps the cast moving and they have mastered the art of pacey delivery that provides the sustained momentum of this joyous production. The characters they create ensure a range of personlities that interact to provide lively and varied discourse; some serious, some ponderous, some witty, others undermining nuisances, but they all play and bounce off each other. Amongst the fun there are subtexts and issues of meaning in relationship to art and life itself, but don’t expect any profound answers. The entertainment lies in the manic pursuit of questions and the joy of finding no conclusions. It’s exactly what you would hope for from youthful actors exploring this genre.2nd Picture of Dorian Gray is a high-spirited absurdist new play by Lithuanian writer and physical theatre performer Vyte Garriga co-commissioned by the Bloomsbury Festival, where it will receive its London Premiere in October 2023, and Macready Theatre Young Actors’ Company and is performed by their touring ensemble Square Pegs.

Making its Fringe debut after winning VAULT Festival ‘Show Of The Week Award’ and Pleasance ‘Pick of the VAULT Award’, Manchester Anthem has been restaged from the linear London tunnel to fit a black box at Pleasance Courtyard. The move somewhat changes its dynamic but the essence of its excellence remains. It’s still a stunning show. Here’s a reminder of what I said previously:This joyously uplifting solo show from Lyle Productions and ramblemill is an unfettered outpouring of humour, storytelling and characterisation from beginning to end, accompanied by flashing lights, pulsating sounds and a first-class high-energy performance.Although labelled as a ‘coming of age play’ that description does it little justice. This is no protracted journey of introverted, navel-gazing discovery, but rather an explosive and revelatory wild weekend in the life of a young man contemplating a life-changing opportunity. But will he take it?Writer Nick Dawkins has taken a simple storyline with a limited time span and packed it with events. This creates a pervading sense of immediacy and urgency within a tight transformative arc. Tommy (Tom Claxton) is a young working-class Mancunian. He lives with his mother. They rarely meet because his shifts as a barista rarely match hers as a nurse, but she leaves him notes and there is clearly a close bond between them. His father left him when he was six. They are rarely in touch, although he features in a scene towards the end. These are simply givens of the situation and never distract from the main thrust of Tommy’s decision-making process. A scholarship granted him a private school education; the start of a process of growth away from his roots, but that’s over now and Tommy is working his last shift before getting ready to take up a place at Oxford University. He will be the first person in his family to attend university, in fact the first in his whole street, but as he says, in a line typical of the play, “Oxford isn’t an interstellar journey away... it’s just south”. Nevertheless, it’s a giant step for him and this is his last weekend up north.Claxton relentlessly moves around stopping to create locations for various happenings, having meetings with his mates and dealing with others who feature in his roller coaster of encounters and events. It’s something of a work-out and director Charlie Norburn has never leaves a dull moment The night at the disco is a perfect example of this. Tommy’s ‘friends’ are there. Claxton has a voice for each and amusing descriptions of them, especially for some of the snobbier brigade who are also going up to Oxford. He locates them on different parts of the dance floor and proceeds to illustrate their different dance techniques and styles with his flexible figure consummately matching character to choreography.It’s not just a physical journey he’s on from place to place. More importantly, it’s an emotional expedition and a quest to find answers to the lingering doubts and suspicions that lurk in his mind. Events mount up as providing evidence Tommy must weigh up before he gets on that train to a new life. In so doing issues of social class loom large; matters of mobility that have nothing to do with physical fitness. Claxton draws us into that mental melting pot so that we go with go with him every step of the way.The nightclub with all its highs ends in a trivial but embarrassing event. He leaves and is thrust back into a world miles away from that set, where we meet more of the people who lives are unrelated to that crowd's privileged existence. Reality sinks in for Tommy and the road he’s travelled on this night’s wild journey finally takes him home. This time his mother is there.A Manchester Anthem, has punchy yet moving, well-structured writing from Dawkins and an outstanding performance from Claxton, who clearly enjoys every minute of this production, giving out assuring vibes that we are in safe hands. Importantly it also has a strong team behind it, from Producer Rebecca Lyle to the creatives: Set and Costume Designer Anna Niamh Gorman, Stage Manager Emily Darley, Lighting Designer Caelan Oran and Sound Designer Sam Baxter; the latter two really having their work cut out in this show with a host of unrelenting changes.Finally the show wouldn’t be complete without some pulsating House Music that goes with the title. No prizes for guessing N-Joi’s, Anthem is his favourite and Manchester Anthem is ours.

A haunting celeste chime creates a sombre mood that permeates John Ransom Phillips’s Mrs President at C Aquila as Mary Lincoln (LeeAnne Hutchison) poses for photographer Mathew Brady (Christopher Kelly) to capture the image of herself that she wishes to portray to the world.Brady had already made a name for himself as a pioneering photographer who recorded events in the Civil War and as a man in whom the rich and famous had faith and trust including President Lincoln whose portrait image he took in 1864 was chosen for the $5 bill series 1999 issue to the present. He refers to Mary Lincoln in the etiquette of the day as “Mrs Lincoln”, but she is always quick to correct him with a simple, if rather abrupt, “Mrs President”. She was acutely aware of her status yet knew she had none of the adulation or respect traditionally accorded to the First Lady. She was a well-educated member of a large and wealthy, slave-owning Kentucky family - a southerner, some of whose family fought against the north in the Civil War. She spent extravagantly on the refurbishment of the White House and threw lavish parties, all during a time of economic austerity. She suffered the death of three of her four sons, There was nothing unusual about such events at the time, but Mary Lincoln chose to publicly mourn her losses and display her grief, which was seen as challenging the will of God. She became despised by those around her and by the public at large, despite her undying loyalty and support for her husbandAcutely aware of being reviled, she sought, through Brady, to display an mage of herself that might in some way redress the balance of her reputation. Thus the play centres around Brady’s studio and the many sessions they had together framing the perfect shot. Despite suggestions of a close relationship in some movement sequences, the play rejects the suggestion they had an affair. Brady was also not without his problems: failing eyesight caused him much distress and obviously interfered with his work.Hutchison captures the tormented soul of Mary Lincoln whose grief is exacerbated by the assassination of her husband and who struggles to reconcile the public’s perception of her with her status as First Lady. She makes the journey from a determined woman of dignity falling into decline through illness and adversity finally overcome by mental issues that provoke her surviving son and an all-male jury into having her committed to an asylum. Kelly, who starts as the sell-assured somewhat egotistical man with an established reputation, also moves on to suggest a man in decline anxious to cover up his failing worried about its implications. The chemistry between the two of them generates a warm atmosphere under Lily Wolff’s delicate direction and the simple set of chair and camera combined with subtle lighting and sound by the company, Rec Room Arts and JPR Art Group, ensure the focus is clearly pointed to the emotional variations and vulnerability they portray.The play contributes to redressing the traditional image of Mary Lincoln as a vilified woman with insights that explain her condition in a sensitively crafted and informative drama.

The magic and mystery of midsummer combine with things past and present in Sing, River, written and performed by Nathaniel Jones of Love Song Productions at the Pleasance Courtyard.The theatre company is a collective of ‘young, queer creatives, that puts innovative storytelling and character-driven writing at the heart of their work’, which makes Sing, River a fine example of what they hope to achieve. With sylph-like delicacy Jones uses a symphony of gestures to invoke the gods of ancient Britain and the spirts that inhabit the bed of the River Thames and softly begins to sing a tale of ancient mythology; of kings and gods. Composer Faye James has written in a suitably ethereal style that has an air of mediaeval folk music to it. Jones delivers beautifully.This element of the play is interwoven with a modern story of love and abuse; a memory play in which Jones ponders the unnamed character’s past through the ritual of sacrificing items in order to release the ties and move on. But that is easier said the done. The darkness lingers and recollections haunt; times that might have seemed good are shrouded in a cloud hurt and distaste. The blending of these two stories provides a moving and fascinating take on a topic that has been visited many times but usually in a far more blunt and aggressive manner.There is none of that Katie Kirkpatrick directed with marked by great sensitivity and spatial awareness to create a play that flows as effortlessly as the river itself. Between them, they create a work of folkloric wonder, that turns broad ideas into intimate reflections.As Shakespeare’s discovered, the associations that the midsummer solstice bring to mind allow for the exploration of themes from a very special perspective, and this production fully exploits those opportunities.

If you think coming out as gay or announcing any change from the heteronormative might be difficult, then try telling your parents and friends that you've just been accepted on a new government-funded programme that will allow you to convert your status as a human into that of a dog.In an age of gender fluidity the prospect of this transition seems less challenging than it might have been a few years ago. On hearing the news the response might be, “Oh really. Nothing would surprise me these days”. And so it is that we accept the premise in Collar, which was performed for one night only at the Bread and Roses Theatre, prior to its run at the Edinburgh Fringe. Benji, delightfully played by Thomas Josef Burr in this solo play, eventually does have to face the family, and his best friend Will, who has very generously flown over from the USA, eager to hear the surprise news he’s been promised, only to be teased for a day or so before Benji reveals all. Procrastination is also the order of the day in regard to telling his family, but when he finally gets around to it we are treated to a household worthy of Llareggub. Burr’s Welsh accent, naturally muted, now flourishes in the portrayal of Nan, his dad, his sister and the neighbour. We also meet his pompous, old-school psychiatrist, who needs to make sure that Benji is of sound mind and clear intention, and the rather gorgeous and marginally seductive nurse who steers him through the preparations for the big day. It’s a big decision that Benji has made, with irreversible consequences if he decides to go through with it. Thought about in more depth, this is clearly a drama that raises issues of mental health, but Collar is not a heavy play you’d put firmly in that category; rather it’s a revelation concerning obsessive, eccentric behaviour; the effects of being unable to form relationships; of disillusionment with humanity and of finding a way to reach one’s full potential and Burr’s approach is lighthearted and comedic throughout.Before he says a word laughs are forthcoming as he opens, seated upright on a stool, like a playful puppy, making faces and gestures to a selection of famous doggy songs. It’s a thematic selection from across the years that pays tribute to the love affair between humans and canines and reveals just how many famous singers have lyricised about dogs. Thereafter, we are taken into his confidence in a warm and chatty manner that suggests he is already well on the road to becoming ‘a man’s best friend’.There might be sad ending, or there might be a happy one. Burr did a children’s performance in Cardiff in which he specially adapted the conclusion. A post-show chat in London suggested a number of storylines that could satisfactorily round off the tale, so to speak. It’s a tribute to his and Hannah McLeod’s writing, his vibrant performance and her directorial subtlety that the show provokes the imagination to consider other possibilities, Whichever one they go for in Edinburgh, they almost certainly won't be barking up the wrong tree.

In 70 action-packed minutes, Bones highlights mental health issues in sport, looking at one man’s struggle to reconcile his inner mental turmoil with the physical demands expected of his devotion to the game. Studio 90 at the Park Theatre is a postage stamp in comparison to a rugby field, yet the green floor accommodates some vigorous movement sequences, during the game and in training. Tackles, passes, scrums, and tries contrast with choreographed, slow-motion sequences. These set pieces are a highlight of the production, though some lines are lost as they are shouted over the action. Director Daniel Blake brings to life the banter, wit, and repartee of the changing room that’s crucial to Lewis Aaron Wood’s script. Name-calling, jovial abuse, and Trumpian ‘locker-room talk’ seems to be the stuff that could be hurtful no matter how much the guys put on a brave face. But that’s not the way the narrative goes.Instead, it slowly emerges that something is wrong with Ed (Ronan Cullen), whose passion for the game is waning. He considers extreme measures to sustain an injury that will keep him out of the biggest match of the year: the Regional Cup semi-finals. Though talent scouts will be there, offering the possibility of being picked up by a professional team, Ed has clearly lost all interest.An injury would be an unquestionable excuse for not playing. It would also mean avoiding the real reason. Exactly what is going on in Ed’s head remains vague, but we know it is due to a family death. Ed’s father (James Mackay) seems to share his son’s suffering. But while he asserts that he’ll “always be there for him” (there are many more cliches such as this), he seems able to do little. Questioning by the Doctor reveals little more and certainly doesn’t provide a comprehensive way out of the situation. Samuel Holt as Team Captain, Charlie, and the person to whom Ed seems closest, conveys the dilemmas of a man who inevitably becomes embroiled in the situation as he tries to reconcile the needs of the team with Ed’s welfare.Bones shows that though mental health issues can be triggered by an event, depression is something that can build almost imperceptibly over a period of some time. It’s a difficult story to portray on stage, but one that is the mission of Redefine, partnering with rugby’s leading mental health charity, LooseHeadz to present this play. The play might be full of movement but in its current form it's emotionally static. Never mind the ball, what’s needed is a tighter grip on the storyline: a harder-hitting and more impactful approach.

Having emerged from a period in which we were exhorted to wash our hands at every opportunity and instructed on how to carry out the ritual, it is strange to go back in time to an era when such meticulous hygiene was unknown, even in hospitals. Yet in the age of Ignaz Philipp Semmelweis (1818- 1865) to suggest that disease and infection could be passed from one person to another by physical contact was regarded as medical heresy, while those who propounded such ideas were made the subject of ridicule.That was the fate, and worse, that awaited Semmelweis when he took up his position as assistant to Professor Johann Klein in the First Obstetrical Clinic of the Vienna General Hospital. Now regarded as a pioneer, that description conjures up a false image of the man who nervously entered the revered institution on his birthday in 1846.Mark Rylance in the eponymous role gives an impassioned performance that captures the awkwardness and frustrations of Semmelweis. He was confronted immediately by the entrenched hierarchy of the institution. Alan WIliams, as Klein, exudes haughty intolerance in dealing with the upstart doctor, epitomising reluctance to change and the narrow perspective that held back research in order to maintain status and the favour of those in power. The simple logic of the Hungarian newcomer carries no sway with him who also has to suffer the disdain of his Austrian superiors.The ethnic contempt is one of many aspects of this play, created by Stephen Brown with Rylance, that give it a contemporary relevance; of people judged by where they are from and the language they speak rather than credited with what they can contribute. Semmelweis was no smooth talker and never fitted into the polite society of his day. Rylance’s animated stutterings reveal a man who could bumble away to no avail with his superiors, while women and children died around him, but not equally. Those in the Doctors’ Ward had far less chance of survival than those in the ward run by the Midwives. But why? This division held the evidence that no one else had bothered to examine. He has to turn to the statistically-minded intern Franz Arneth (Ewan Black) and the long-suffering senior midwife, Anna Müller in order to move forward with his hypothesis. Pauline McLynn gives a classic matronly portrayal of Müller, the no-nonsense woman who has given her life to the service of others and who now relishes being valued as a co-conspirator against the powers that be, who have kept her in her place as a women for years. It’s just another example of the shortcomings of a male-dominated, stratified society.Rising above that, Amanda Wilkin elegantly portrays Maria Semmelweis, the doctor’s devoted wife who ultimately struggles to cope with his mental decline and increasingly debauched behaviour. None of this affects Daniel York Loh in a tightly focussed and humourously eccentric performance as the pathologist, Karl von Rokitansky, who relishes the endless supply of corpses for dissection. Director Tom Morris makes full use of all the resources at his disposal. He crafts his staging around the flexible period set by Ti Green that has an oculus diffusing beams of Richard Howell’s mood-changing lighting design onto the stage and giving an added spin to the revolve which enables smooth transitions from scene to scene. There are times that feel overcrowded, with a string quartet aptly playing Schubert’s Death and the Maiden, and other accompaniment by Adrian Sutton, taking positions in numerous locations, and a female corps de ballet choreographed by Antonia Franceschi, that reminds us of the the suffering of women and the spirits of the departed.At times, there is perhaps just too much going on, but Dr Semmelweis is a dramatic masterpiece, that credits a man who died in ignominy, but whose chlorinated handwash was a major medical breakthrough that has saved countless lives.

Simon Stephens and Mark Eitzel wrote Song From Far Away in 2014 for director Ivan van Hove, who wanted ‘a monologue with song’ for the actor Eelco Smits. Both writers loved Amsterdam for, as Stephens put it, “its beauty and quiet arrogance…history and aloofness." They contemplated the city’s contradictions – espousing both tolerant liberalism and lucrative intolerance – and how it gave birth to New Amsterdam, now New York.Song From Far Away explores these two worlds by showing a logical hedge fund manager forced to dealing with the emotional turmoil of loss. It is a reflective memory play in which Willem (Will Young), who lives in New York, takes us on a journey that begins when he hears the news of his brother’s death in Amsterdam. It’s a story that must be painfully close to Young’s heart. His twin brother, Rupert, died recently aged 41.Willem looks into the void left by a lost sibling from whom he had already detached himself when he moved to the USA. His relationship with the rest of his family is equally strained and he chooses to stay in a hotel rather than with any of them when attending the funeral. But socialising is not Willem’s forte. Despite living in the Big Apple his is an isolated life. His young niece is the only person he seems to identify with and that is as part of his concern for the state of the planet and what her future is going to be like. His thoughts are rambling, and subjects are touched upon lightly - the lack of depth revealing the superficial nature of his life - but the snippets leave us craving for something more profound.During his emotional journey Willem sings the occasional line from a song he once heard. It’s not until the end that he sings the whole piece, perhaps as a metaphor that his life is finally coming together, giving him a clearer picture of the future. Young reveals himself to be an accomplished, sensitive actor, delivering lines with precision and clarity and projecting the softest of reflections in a delicate American accent. No words are lost in his ethereal portrayal of Willem and he has a calm confidence onstage as he moves freely yet purposefully, around Ingrid Yu’s modern minimalist set.The production is an outstanding example of how set, sound and lighting can complement each other. Yu hangs stunning curtains from ceiling to floor that move elegantly to indicate scene changes along with a remarkable full-width ceiling panel that rises, falls and angles. Julian Starr has created motifs on the piano underscored with shimmering strings that repeat with variations that reflect Willem’s mindset. Andrew Exeter’s lighting creates and reflects moods and locations. The effects of their unity of purpose and imagination in enhancing the tone of the play is a joy throughout. There are also some very impressive, yet subtle effects that come as a surprise: at one point, snow falls outside; at another, smoke appears stage left before turning 90 degrees to form a shroud over Willem, then drifts off through the auditorium.Jameson has created a warmly introspective production that is beautifully delivered. It’s fitting for a play that takes us into the mind of a man confronting the hand life has dealt him, but denies us any tearful lament.

Ottisdotter theatre company’s production of Lady Inger provides a rare opportunity to see one of Henrik Ibsen’s earliest, least performed and less well-known works. His writings from this early period form their specialist domain to which they have given years of study and performance. Aficionados of Ibsen might want to seize this chance, while seasoned theatre goers might decide to give it a miss. There is often a reason why a play has been presented in the UK on only five occasions in 120 years, with one of those being by the same company.Amongst the murmurings to be heard during the interval and afterwards the name of Shakespeare could often be heard along with a mention of Hamlet (the Danish connection making this inevitable) and Macbeth, for the hand-wringing agony of tragic death. The translation never reaches the heights to which the Bard rose, indeed it’s a rather odd mix of archaic and modern English, but the plot is riddled with complexities and intrigues worthy of his histories. The story is based on events that took place in 1528 in the ongoing conflicts between Norway, Denmark, and Sweden; part of a period (1387-1814) for which Ibsen coined the phrase “400 years of darkness”. It’s something of a minefield and for what follows I’m indebted to notes that were prepared for a production at Vassar College in 1924. I’m glad they worked it out. The Danes, have slain or outlawed all the old Norwegian nobility, and have sway over their lands. Their ally is King Gustav of Sweden, but their position is not secure as he faces attempts to oust him by a party in Sweden headed by Peter Kanzler. The Norwegian peasantry consider this an opportune moment to mount their own rebellion against Denmark and look for a leader in Lady Inger Gyldenlove, to whom they make their case in the first half of the play. She is sympathetic, but although she hates the Danes and would like nothing better than to drive them from the land, she dare not align with Sweden for fear the Danes will discover that Nils Stensson, the son she had with Stens Sture, is held as a hostage in Sweden by Peter Kanzler. He has promised to return her son to her when she vows to support the rebel cause. However, the presence of the Danish representative Nils Lykke, who realises her considerable influence as leader of the main regional province, leaves her between a rock and hard place in terms of her son, despite the strategic strength of her position.The historical complexities of the story are further complicated by deaths, marriages and love stories woven into the political fray. Ottisdotter have reduced Ibsen’s original five-act play to a two-act drama that still runs for two hours and twenty minutes. That would not be an issue if this were a gripping thriller, but the slow pace of the action and convoluted dialogue that is interspersed with monologues and soliloquies that never really engage make for hard work. Director Mark Ewbank makes impressive use of the performance area and the number of locations for exits and entrances, with the audience on two sides and a minimalist set. The cast of Kristin Duffy (Lady Inger), Ivan Comisso ( Nils Lykke), Thomas Everatt (Olaf Skaktavi, Juliet Ibberson (Elina Gyldenløve), Joe Lewis (Nils Stenson) and Siôn Grace (Chief Steward Bjørn) are clearly invested in the work, but it is difficult to find any emotional attachment to them as they plough through a text that makes for stilted delivery. Ibberson and Comisso generate something of a romantic relationship and Lewis injects some invigorating youthful energy into the fray, but it’s not enough to save the day.It’s an all-round valiant effort with commendable devotion to the cause of promoting an obscure work, but it seems like a lot of energy that could have been directed towards a different and more engaging play.

Playwright Philip Ridley seems to be enjoying a resurgence at the moment; not that he has ever been out of fashion. This year we’ve had The Poltergeist (2020) at the Arcola Theatre and Leaves of Glass (2007) at the Park Theatre and. Now we have Vincent River (2000) at Greenwich Theatre directed by James Haddrell, the venue's Artistic Director. Commenting on the play, Haddrell observes, “Philip Ridley’s voice is unique in theatre, fusing the heart-breaking realism of a contemporary dramatist with the symbolism of a visual artist and the lyricism of a poet.” Ridley is massively supportive towards companies putting on his plays and here, as elsewhere, he has made himself available for advice, consultation and comment. Haddrell points out that it’s clearly a thrill and obvious bonus “to have Philip on hand both in and out of the rehearsal room to make sure we tell the story the way he intended”.The action of this two-hander takes place in realtime, a device that heightens the impact of the already intense and emotionally charged dialogue. Anita (Kerrie Taylor) at the age of 53 has just changed address and a few boxes of possessions are scattered around the floor of the lifeless sitting room in Dagenham, where the windows are still whitewashed and the only furniture is a dull sofa, a dark carpet a small drawer unit with a lamp and an occasional table. It’s probably the most lifeless set Alice Carroll has ever been asked to design, but it reflects how very little is left in Anita’s life and dramatically ensures that there is nothing to distract from the centrality of the two characters and their conversation.She’s moved following the ghastly death of her son in a vicious attack in some local toilets; a homophobic hate crime that has left her dazed, not just because of the loss of her teenage boy but because she was not aware of his homosexuality. Added to this is the mystery of the boy who was watching her house and movements and who has followed her to the new place and is now standing in front of her. Neither knows what to expect from the looming confrontation that proves to be movingly uncomfortable for them and dramatically gripping for us.Bursting with bitterness, resentment and grief, Taylor tears into the young lad with a tirade of questions, like an aggressive investigating officer or cross-examining barrister. Alice wants to who he is, what he knows about her son and why he’s not just come straight to her instead of hanging around for days. The air is electric. Davey (Brandon Kimaryo) is aged just 17; desperately nervous, hesitant and unwilling just to blurt out everything he knows. The pair adapt to each other. Alice mellows with the help of several gins; Davey becomes more relaxed and is forced to join her in a gin. “I don’t drink,” he protests. “You do now,” she retorts. She is in complete control of the situation as gradually she ekes out his story which he unfolds in a measured drip-feed of information about himself and her son. Now there are moments of lightness and understanding as the humanity of each comes to the fore.The chemistry between Taylor and Kimaryo palpable. The casting is inspired. Taylor went to drama school but left a month early to go on tour. Then she secured a part in Brookside, did another play and ended up in Hollyoaks which, along with other TV roles kept her busy for years. In fact she went for 23 years without setting foot on a stage. After braving an audition she was given the lead in A Taste of Honey at the now closed Oldham Coliseum. As she observes, “... it’s sometimes quite hard when people see you as a soap actor to get seen for theatre”. After that she moved on to perform in the Caryl Churchill collection at Greenwich Theatre and then the Theatre's Pinter this April. “I’ve now gone back to my first love,” she says, and that love shows, as does the wealth of experience in character portrayal those soaps gave her. As Anita, she embodies the character’s emotional turmoil and creates a wealth of contrasts from the tyrannical to the tender; from the mother grieving at the loss of her only son to the woman finding strength in stories from the past. Indeed, the play is a masterpiece of the redemptive power of storytelling; of letting out all the bottled-up baggage and finding release.Kimaryo knows just how to deliver this. Still in his last term at Guildford School of Acting credit must go to Haddrell for bravely casting a newbie in such a massively demanding role, but apparently Kimaryo’s audition left him in no doubt about his ability to carry off the role. His judgement has been vindicated. Traversing the emotional spectrum, Kimaryo has a presence and delivery that should come from years of experience, but he is clearly comfortably at home expressing the emotional turmoil that Davey is experiencing. He renders the opening-up of his character to perfection and masters a monologue, that runs to pages and would be a challenge for any actor, with consummate ease and compelling conviction. His is a stunning debut performance.Ridley’s writing combined with Haddrell’s direction and the performances of Taylor and Kimaryo make for a captivating and emotionally draining ninety minutes that evokes a profound and melancholy, “Wow”. Prepare to be immersed in an absorbing tragedy and be rewarded with the very best that live theatre has to offer.

From the extraordinary story of Cecilia Giménez (Mary Tillett), writer Joe Wiltshire Smith has created a beautifully crafted play that embraces her innocence and resilience, while exploring the consequences of good intentions gone awry.Smith adheres faithfully to a simplified historical record, while still investing in the debate that surrounds Cecilia’s actions. There is no need for embellishment as the story stands on its own merits. Cecilia is a devout daughter of the church who spends her time cleaning the building. She married as a teenager and lost her husband a couple of years later. Their son was born with weak knees that increasingly limited his ability to move. In her spare time she acquired some knowledge of painting, but went on to prove the validity of the maxim that a little knowledge is a dangerous thing. In her church of the Sanctuary of Mercy in Borja, Spain, there hung an unremarkable fresco depicting Jesus; Ecce Homo (Behold the Man), painted by the minor Spanish painter Elías García Martínez (Roger Parkins) in 1930.In their first set of roles Tillet and Parkins play the mother superior and the painter, respectively. The artwork is controversial from the outset. Parkins conveys the plight of an honest artist trying to scrape a living and be paid for the work he has done. But he’s met his match this time as Tillet determinedly sets all Christian charity aside and with matriarchal indignation fails to see how a man could expect to be rewarded with a substantial sum for a work that is anything but traditional. It acts as an impressive lesson for the nun (Louise Beresford) who looks on in awe at the mother superior’s command of ecclesiastical economics. The scene also opens up the ongoing debate about the nature of art. Disrobed, Beresford pops up throughout the play as a sort of roving reporter, cum narrator, stopping the action to comment on what is taking place in often amusing interjections.By 2012 the paint had started to peel from the damp wall when the artist’s granddaughter announced that she wished to marry in the church. Despairing of the work’s poor condition, Cecilia and the parish priest discuss having it restored. Fearful of the cost (ecclesiastical miserliness is a recurring and often amusing theme) and with an offer from Cecilia to do the job herself, the work proceeds in the public gaze.Seemingly, however, no one paid any attention to what she was doing until it was too late. Parkins, now as the priest, gives a wonderfully distraught and angry lament for the lost treasure, as though the world has fallen in on him, as he ponders what he is going to tell the family and how he will explain it to the Church. Word of the disaster spreads like the plague, assisted by social media, and within days the humble Cecilia had become an internet sensation. The lean pointed features of Christ are now rounded and chubby and in no time at all in a fusion of Latin and Spanish based on its original title it was heralded as Ecce Mono, (Behold the Monkey).Every cloud has a silver lining, however, and before long it was pouring into the coffers of the church and the pocket of Cecllia, now in her eighties, as visitors arrived in their thousands. There was, of course, a lot of debate about where the money should go and if Cecilia had any claim to it. Again, Tillet and Parkins engage in determined banter and establish their respective positions, but she gives a far mightier and more rational case then he might have expected in order to win the day. A moving scene at the end, when Beresford appears as the granddaughter of Martínez, gives yet another moving dimension to this multilayered play.Director Scott Le Crass has created a rustic simplicity in the telling of this story, on a set in which ultimately the three versions of the painting appear almost as a triptych, with an air of haunting mystery created by the subtle lighting of Joseph Bryant. With a uniformly talented cast, who create clearly identifiable characters, he evenly balances the humour and the historical narrative drawing on the naturalism of Smith’s dialogue to create an absorbing and engaging production. This is clearly a team effort by people who understand each and respond accordingly.There is another unseen character in the play. Cecilia engages in several conversations which require the voice of Jesus to be heard. It’s that of famous female actor, which might drive you mad if you recognise it but can’t put a name to it. No spoilers here, but you can ask after the show, to see if you got it right. But don't let it detract from your enjoyment of a delightfully simple story told with clarity, heart and wit.

Jonas (Michael Batten) would ideally like to be in full-time employment as an actor on stage. He has an agent, who seemingly works hard for him, but currently his life is consumed with making just the self-tape audition pieces for commercials advertising mostly stuff he loathes. To generate income he also performs in front of the camera, but this time as a webcam model for the benefit of on-line clients who are not in short supply. There’s is momentary enjoyment in this work, but he finds it unfulfilling and ultimately degrading, resenting the demands of those who call the shots. His husband, whom we never see, is in the adjoining room, from where we hear him playing the piano, an activity connected with his job. Their marriage started out well, according to Jonas, but the sparkle went out of it some time ago; a situation that adds to his misery. Jonas believes his husband knows nothing of his online activities, which is hard to believe given the short distance his moanings and groanings and conversations with clients need to travel. With no other source of income how, one wonders, does Jonas explain having money? One interpretation of the mystery surrounding events that lead to the tragedy in Jonas’s life suggests that that his husband has always known what’s going on but has just never mentioned it.Batten, who also wrote play, conveys the emotional stress that all of this brings. Faking enthusiasm for products and pretending to be someone he is not for clients all take their toll on his life. He has only the memory of his mother to cling to; her photo placed face-down when he’s doing sex shows, but brought back up when he needs to speak to her and reminisce. The client who has become overly attached to him, disturbingly voiced by Neil Burgess, makes requests that ultimately even Jonas cannot accede to, and so his world increasingly collapses around him as his mental health deteriorates.It’s a play that grew out of lockdown and it certainly has the air of that period about it, in which everyone surely engaged in some form of introspection. It’s an interesting exploration of identity, self-worth and compromise, but also highlights the complexities that can beset a person’s life and invites us to reflect upon the judgements we can so easily make about others.It perhaps opens too many avenues that are not explored in depth and the repetitious snippets alternating between self-taping and camming in the early stages become rather tedious without furthering the plot. The same can be said of the prolonged sexual fantasies, mimed masturbation and anal posing that create an uncomfortable air of gratuitously over-indulged sexual activity. The mystery cam-caller’s knowledge of Jonas provides a source of intrigue but the ending is largely predictable. Jason was right to shield his mother from his excesses.

Martin Sherman's Rose is already an award-winning production that received widespread critical acclaim during its sell-out runs at the Hope Mill Theatre, Manchester, and the Park Theatre, London. Now at the Ambassadors Theatre for only 28 performances, that success looks set to be repeated.The dramatic potential and appeal of a one-woman show is already on full display just a few streets away, where Sheridan Smith is brilliantly playing a sold-out run of Shirley Valentine. Both plays explore how a woman deals with the hand she is dealt in life, yet they could not be further apart in terms of content: the one focussed on disaffected domesticity, the other confronting some of the greatest tragedies and population movements of the twentieth century. Dame Maureen Lipman once again assumes the weighty mantle of the eponymous Rose. As with Shirley Valentine, it’s appropriate that the play takes the name of the person around whom everything revolves. Rose is the heart of this monologue and, in a directorial triumph for Scott Le Crass, nothing detracts from Lipman’s presence, centre-stage, as she sits on a bench throughout two acts, using only arm gestures, head turns, looks and the occasional leg movements to reinforce her words. There’s a perfectly logical reason for this staging: Rose is observing shiva, not just for one deceased person but seemingly for an endless stream of people who keep passing away. But it’s still a brave move to keep her there and it takes someone of Lipman’s story-telling calibre to pull it off. She is so immersed in the character it’s hard at times to remember that this is not her own story; the informal, conversational style of delivery is such that we might be guests in her home where she is simply relating her life story. If she weren’t devotionally tied to the bench, you might expect her to get up and make us all a cup of tea. But then as a Jewish woman it is her story, not in the detail but in the common inheritance of a persecuted people, of families, all of whom know the meaning of suffering and the many who tried to forge a new existence in strange land.The same is true for Sherman who grounded this work of fiction in his own family’s movements that began when they left Yaltushkav, the shtetl that was then in Russia and is now in Ukraine. He could never have imagined that his throw-away line about that country would resonate with such force nearly a quarter of a century after he wrote it, or that the plight of refugees would be a topic of heated political debate, nor indeed that wars and pogroms would be destroying town and villages in the same way the Nazis razed Yaltushkav to the ground, leaving only a memory. But it’s memories that sustain cultures and communities and people like Rose, who can look back with tears and laughter at events that moved her family from mainland Europe to almost settle in Palestine (before it became Israel), only to be put back on the boat and transported to England, before finally starting yet another life in the USA.La Crass and Lipman demonstrate that you don’t need to do much to a great script and gripping story except respect its integrity, give weight to its words, and tell it with sincerity. But this is theatre and there’s a set, sound and lighting. Working collaboratively as always with the director and actor, no one in that team has lost sight of the centrality of the character and the story; nothing detracts and all elements support and enhance. Designer David Shields’ abstract diamond platform, whose point reaches out to the audience, is reminiscent of the geometric layout of Chana Gitla Kowalska Shtetl, illustrated in the programme The two white walls, meeting at an acute angle, provide a screen for a rainbow of plain, coloured projections from Lighting Designer Jane Lalljee. These evoke moods but avoid the temptation to be representational, appearing and fading like Rose’s memories as an accompaniment to the narrative. This subtle, suggestive approach is borne out in a delicately understated sound design by Juian Starr. What a joy it is to have sounds in the background, at times almost imperceptible, that pay homage to the actor’s role and the supremacy of the text as opposed to drowning both out. Starr aligns his soundscape with events in the story, but again the low level of volume reinforces the idea of past happenings that are distant memories.Towards the end, events move quickly and life in the New World, with its hotel businesses and gangsters, together with tales of her son’s life on a kibbutz and her daughter’s overtly political forays, is portrayed in stark contrast to what has gone before. It’s another chapter, which could be a play in itself, but it’s also a reminder of how people are forced to move on and take life in their stride.

Making the move from its seven-year residency at the Lyric Theatre, Showstopper! The Improvised Musical has opened at the Cambridge Theatre, its new home, where the team will be doing one or two shows per month on a Monday evening, except in August when the whole outfit transfers to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe for a month long run.The opening night, as might have been expected, was a mind-blowing demonstration of the art form they have perfected and which seems to have a cult following. The lady in the seat next to me was seeing her ninth show, which is not the same as seeing the same show nine times, because every one is different and if you can shout loud enough, or just manage to attract the compères' attention, you can have a say in creating the production. Here’s how it works.The band is on stage and The Writer (Dylan Emery) enters. The phone rings and a guy called Cameron (of course) says he’s in need of a new show. The Writer explains that by chance he has a creative team around him at this very moment and he promises to deliver in two hours. Now we move into action. He needs a setting for the show and invites suggestions. Some are humorously dismissed but a shortlist is drawn up. Tonight’s options are an Aeroplane, Basingstoke, the Central Line and the Chelsea Flower Show. Then, as each one is called out, we shout loudly in support of our choice. Aeroplane and Basingstoke (which received a lone shriek) are eliminated, leaving two. The final shout-off sees the Central Line win the vote by a narrow margin.Next it’s time to decide the styles in which the show should be performed. A similar process sees four make it onto the board: Oklahoma, Cole Porter, Avenue Q and Tim Minchin. Now the show needs a name and from amongst the suggestion, overwhelmingly Scarlet Fever is the preferred title. The framework established, it's time to bring on the ensemble who, after a short bout of dialogue, establish that they are all here to catch the 7.42 which becomes the opening chorus number, as though this were a finely-rehearsed long-running show. Thereafter, the dialogue hots up, people meet, events occur and songs such as Don’t Cross the Line, Lost and Found, and It’s Me, It’s Me take us into a love story and the plight of those who don’t find romance. With the mention of Rosie O’Donnell from somewhere in the audience, we go down the track of Hollywood celebrities with a fun-poking impersonation of her along with Michael Caine and Al Pacino et al. It’s fascinating to observe how a mere mention or interjection can divert the whole course of the story, reaching a junction that poses the question, “How did we get here?” If the whole thing seems to be going off the rails then The Writer is always there to interject, change drivers and even suggest a new departure. “This feels like a Sondheim moment.” Cue another song and another style. During the interval many in the audience have taken up the invitation to Tweet further suggestions to The Writer and before we know it we are immersed in a frantic scene involving Tinder and listening to This is My Favourite Carriage and Love on the Central Line in an arousing finale.The show poses challenges all round, and with a band and singers on stage it’s hard to work out who’s following who. The fact is, the team have been working together for so long and have developed such synchronicity that it’s not a question that arises. With their vast musical talents and performing skills they just know where things are going and create, quite literally, in harmony. Behind the scenes, hours of rehearsals and training ensure that very little can go wrong, and who would know anyway? (See my article below for an insight). The company has enough members to ring the changes on who will perform on the night. The same lady next to me pointed out two of her favourites; she’ll be there again to catch the others at her tenth visit!With 1,200 shows performed since its inception in 2008, Showstopper! The Improvised Musical has become awash with accolades, not least that of being the first ever long-form improv show to have a full West End run and to be nominated for and win an Olivier Award. Each unique performance validates the acclaim these hugely talented performers receive and explains why people go back time and again to see them. Why not join the club? You might see your own show performed in the West End and you'll certainly enjoy a cornucopia of creativity.It's called improvised because it really is!

Artistic Director James Haddrell has made a brave and perhaps rather surprising choice for the Greenwich Theatre’s first in-house production of 2023. Pairing The Dumb Waiter (1960) with the less-widely performed A Slight Ache (1958) provides a double bill of Harold Pinter that might provoke a mixed reception, but should appeal to aficionados of the man. A Slight Ache was written for radio. The issue of its suitability for the stage largely revolves around the appearance of the third character. The opening sees Flora (Kerrie Taylor) and Edward (Jude Akuwudike) seated in their garden taking afternoon tea. A wasp begins to buzz around. The sound effect adds to the humour inherent from the outset and comes courtesy of Sound Designer Paul Gavin, who pays enhancing attention to detail throughout. Akuwudike plays the part with stern, intolerant determination; a pedantic man accustomed to giving orders and getting his own way with his wife, whom he clearly expects to be obedient and dutiful. Taylor gives Flora an air of resignation to her husband’s demeanour, but by no means allows her to be downtrodden. It’s a relationship that has perhaps survived too many years, but nothing is going to change now. The petty disputes surrounding the wasp provide an insight into the nature of their coexistence.Across the road is The Matchseller (Tony Mooney) who never seems to sell anything. To Flora he has always been there, but she isn’t bothered by his presence, whereas Edward is infuriated by him and wants to know what he’s up to. They lure him into the house. In a series of scenes, in which they are each alone with him, they attempt to engage him in conversation, a futile activity as the man remains silent throughout. Undeterred, they begin to muse about life, pour out their frustrations, confess to regrets and reveal fantasy dreams, all of which expose the shortcomings of the life they have had together. Putting the play on stage requires the silent role of The Matchselller to take physical form. With nothing to say he clearly wouldn't be present in the radio version and could easily be just a figment of their imaginations, which leaves audiences with the opportunity to ponder about his existence or otherwise. Here, however, he appears as a shabbily-dressed, unkempt individual who perhaps roughs it on the streets. This heightens the comedy of Taylor’s lustful seduction scenes but also give them an element of incongruence.During the interval Alice Carroll’s versatile suburban house is stripped bare and adapted to meet the needs of The Dumb Waiter, not least with what appeared to be a cupboard at the back of the room predictably, but nonetheless satisfyingly, becoming the door to the dumb waiter, whose rattling pulleys are this play’s counterpart to the wasp. Tony Mooney now has a chance to speak and is joined in conversation by Jude Akuwudike as they form the hitmen team of Ben and Gus waiting in the basement of a restaurant to go out on a job.Akuwudike transforms himself into a slightly nervy individual, anticipating what is to come and pacing around asking questions of Ben, who remains largely buried in his newspaper taking things in his stride. It’s not as though they haven’t done all this before. Forasmuch as Akuwudike is energised, Mooney is perhaps a little too laid back in his responses, but it makes for a significant contrast in the manner of the characters. Pinter’s concern for the balance and exercise of power is clear in their relationship and in their both being subjected to the instructions of the boss. There is also a pedantic terminological debate about the kettle that matches the bee sting conversation in the previous play along with an intervening third party in the form of the dumb waiter itself and the unseen people upstairs who keep sending down food orders to two men who have almost nothing. The concept of dumbness takes many forms as the situation becomes increasingly absurd.The double bill makes for an interesting time and provides an opportunity to reflect on Pinter's impact on the theatre in developing a radical writing style, along with others, that defined the period and that is now over sixty years old, but still a matter for debate.

Philip Ridley’s multi-layered, complex and highly acclaimed story Leaves of Glass is breathtakingly revived by director Max Harrison in collaboration with Lidless Theatre in a mind-twisting production at The Park Theatre. Premiered at the Soho Theatre in 2007 the intervening years have added more awareness of issues surrounding the darkest revelation in the play and of mental health in general, which is central to its storyline.Set in Ridley’s home territory, members of this ensemble deliver in accents that make the location of this East End drama unmistakable. Congratulations to Dialect Coach Mary Howland on securing that front. Steven (Ned Costello) has the air of a wheeler-dealer merchant, although he has a seemingly respectable line of business in graffiti-cleaning, for which there seems to be a big demand. However, he doesn’t get his own hands dirty; can’t spoil the fitted white shirt, but he does have plenty of patter on the phone. While Steven is ostensibly settled in his marriage, he has demons lurking within and nightmarish visions of the boy involved in a near-tragic car accident. Like the rest of the family he also has to cope with the loss of his father; an ongoing grieving process for all of them. He’s five years older than his brother Barry (Joseph Potter) and has always kept an eye out for him, or so we are led to believe. Their dad’s death sent Barry down a path of alcoholism and drugs, if he wasn’t already going that way. He’s a mess, but is now reforming and Steven gives him the odd job to do. If only what’s etched in their heads were as easy to remove as the graffiti, all their lives might be easier.The boys have a strong bond, but it doesn’t prevent disagreements and even violent exchanges when grim truths from the past are brought into the open. Fight Consultant Sam Angell and Fight and Intimacy Coordinator Lawrence Carmichael have brilliantly packed some frighteningly intense outbursts of aggression into the confines of the intimate space in the round. Costello comes over as a smooth talker but also plays the provocateur, unless he is alone, and then in classic soliloquy style he reveals aspects of the inner man and the denial and twisted interpretation of events he persists in. We never have those moments with his brother. His feelings and emotions are out in the open. Potter has passion, intensity and conviction in delivering Ridley’s text, which he interprets as brilliantly here as he did in his recent highly acclaimed performance in Poltergeist.Mum Liz (Kacey Ainsworth) did her best to raise them as good lads, especially after her husband’s death. Ainsworth creates a classic no-nonsense matriarch who gives the impression her own mother might well have known the Kray twins. When things go wrong, as they often do, she is always there. Liz has developed an all-embracing excuse for someone’s behaviour that distances the issue and avoids her having to confront what might turn into something unpleasant; it will be that ‘fluey-bug thing’, which seems to be quite a common complaint. As Steven’s wife, Debbie, Katie Bulchholz portrays a level of normality that comes as something of a relief, though she does have an obsession about (non-existent) rats in the basement. She is increasingly preoccupied with her pregnancy, which adds to the turmoil and reveals yet another side to the increasingly deep and mysterious Steve as suspicions abound concerning her fidelity and his. Questions concerning whose version of events or stories to believe permeate the play and are posed at every turn in the narrative. As soon as one brother raises his credibility, it is torn down, often by the other one. The familial condition of ‘secrets and lies’ is rife. The title of the play comes from the leaves of glass that hang on a beautiful tree ornament that we are told Steven bought for his mother when he was in his teens. It wasn’t cheap and it’s always been a mystery to Liz as to where he got the money to buy it, along with the further expense of purchasing more leaves to add to it on a fairly regular basis for quite a while. There’s a very good reason why he’s never told her, and that story unfolds in a major confrontation between the boys in the darkness of the basement. The palpable tension in this scene is heightened by the dimmest of lighting; no more than a glow accompanied a burning candelabra, imaginatively devised, along with all the other mood-setting lighting, by Alex Lewer. Sound Designer Sam Glossop has the same success with effects at many points where the mysterious and mental conditions come to the fore. Darkness permeates the story and it pervades the Kit Hinchcliffe’s set, from the walls of the theatre, to the four black benches and the shiny black floor. The creatives have combined to provide atmospheres that accommodate the memories, with which this play abounds, and that bring hours of joy or haunt and torture for a lifetime. Harrison, with Assistant Director Katarina Fuller, has created a triumphant dramatic exploration of memory, manipulation and mental health, through a directorial strategy that respects the actors, their insights and interpretations and involves them deeply in the process. Credit must also go to producer Zoe Waldon and Casting Consultant Nadine Rennie for her part in assembling this stunning quartet of actors so perfectly suited to their demanding roles.

For 30 years now, Guy Masterson has been successfully taking on the monumental challenge of presenting Dylan Thomas' Under Milk Wood as a solo show; revelations from the fictional town of Llareggub (read if backwards) somewhere in Wales.The sleepy settlement is close to the sea and a place of estuarine activity, which is suggested at the outset by the noise of seagulls flying around making their distinctive “huoh-huoh-huoh” choking call. It’s the start of a soundscape that will delight throughout as we pass the farms and fields and journey through the streets, popping into the pub, the chapel and the homes of unsuspecting parishioners to invade their privacy. Even their dreams and thoughts are vulnerable to exposure. With seemingly little to keep the locals occupied it’s a place of gossip, where being nosey is a full-time job and where many could list their main occupation as ‘busy-body’. Hints of the style are to be found from when Thomas was only seventeen in an article he wrote for the school magazine, but greater influences came during the time he spent living in Laugharne, which, like Llareggub has a castle, and a clock tower of the sort mentioned in Myfanwy Price's dreams. His move to New Quay gave him further inspiration for images and stories of seafaring men and is where he started to write the version we know today, although it went with him on his travels and sojourns elsewhere before various readings of the almost-completed work in 1953 before being published in 1954. While the characters are not individually intended to represent people in those places, he clearly drew on the many people he knew and met to create his fictional dramatis personae. Word has it that Butcher Beynonis far too closely resembles butcher and publican Carl Eynon in the neighbouring town of St Clears for it to be an accident. The same could be said for postman Willy Nilly’s connection to Town Crier and postie, Jack Lloyd. Thomas’s skill, however, resides not just in his descriptions of the area and the people but in the life with which he infuses them and the emotionally wide-ranging stories, events and issues he creates around them.There’s Mrs.Ogmore-Pritchard, who despite both her husbands being dead, still berates them on a daily basis, while the blind Captain Cat laments the lives of shipmates lost at sea. Organ Morgan, meanwhile, resorts to musical interludes on his instrument to escape all around him. A total of sixty-nine characters appear in Under Milk Wood, that starts and ends its twenty-four-hour expose by intruding into people’s dreams as they lie asleep.The text moves rapidly from one person to another and Masterson has a voice for each of them. He was born in London to a Welsh mother and Italian father and attended the University of Wales, Cardiff. With their voices around him and the heritage of his great uncle, the celebrated actor Richard Burton, he was well-prepared for the task. Be they women, children, men or even animals he brings them all to life with intonations for every occasion, reminding us that this was originally a work for radio, which he has now transformed for the stage. Equally as vital to his performance as the mild Welsh accent is his physicality; an element that in itself speaks volumes. From the fingertips to the toes, from minute indications to dramatic gestures, from the head to the limbs and engaging the whole body in twists, turns and tumbles he relentlessly animates Thomas’ poetic lines. As Polly Garter he makes a fine scrubber on his hands and knees, vigorously cleaning the floors of her house dressed in the pyjamas he wears throughout.Ideally, this sharing of the lives of so many people should be an intimate theatrical experience, but in the cavernous setting of Wilton’s Music Hall that is lost. Tony Boncza’s direction makes full use of the ample space. The cyclorama wall functions impressively for the huge shadow effects and white-cross projection. The music and soundscape from Matt Clifford along with the lighting design by Tom Turner are effective and well managed by Indigo & Tallulah Scholz-Mastroianni and Steven Moore. However, when Masterson is brought down from the expansive stage, with its versatile lone chair, the issue of space and distance becomes clear. The lower level apron is much closer to the audience, and from this position the rapid fire of words has greater clarity and imminence with the less hollow acoustic.Wilton’s is a production setting that doesn’t do it justice, but despite that Masterson's remarkable performance skills shine through.

It’s not only the title of the play; Biscuits For Breakfast is all that some people have to start the day, and that’s if they are lucky. The huge social and political problems the country is currently facing are delicately referenced in this story of two people who battle with their pasts and the challenge of building for a future in which the present is forever in the way. It’s a remarkable interweaving that always leave their personal stories paramount, but has the economic crisis forever present in the most subtle of ways.The narrative arc flows seamlessly from their initial meeting, through the development of their relationship and over their ups and downs before crashing into a crisis and ultimately coming to rest. It’s a story full of surprises and the most remarkable crescendo of intensity and passion imaginable. It trickles along an exploratory path for quite some time; perhaps a little too long, but then as circumstances and events change the momentum picks up, the mood changes and like an unexpected slap in the face there is a bewildering sense of, “Where did that suddenly come from?” as both Ben Castle-Gibb (Paul) and Boadicea Ricketts (Joanne) notch up their already compelling performances to a previously unimaginable level. The next question that comes to mind is, “Where did they pull that one from?” Never doubt, I suppose, what actors keep in reserve and have up their sleeves! Nevertheless, it comes as a shock and changes the whole atmosphere as eyes widen, mouths drop and the welling up kicks in.The pair meet, or perhaps coincide with each other might be better, in a nightclub. Paul’s advances are clumsy and her responses blunt. A week later they both happen to be at the same gig and the pattern repeats itself, but by the end of the month Joanna steps into his flat. Cooking is the one thing about which Paul is confident; after all, he’s a chef, ambitious for his own place and to write a bestseller cookbook. Joanna never had much chance to learn the art, having moved from one foster home to another for sixteen years. Rather than destroying her, she found strength in adversity, is assertive and defensive at the same time, but most importantly she's a survivor; far tougher than Paul.We learn his issue at the outset as we listen to an old, somewhat distorted tape of him in conversation with his father who died when he was eleven. He listens seemingly every day to one tape or another; he has a collection. The voice of his Dad (Giles King) says, ”Dream big. Bigger than I did. Got to push for something better. Promise me”. Young Paul (Rufus Flowers) says he’ll try but his Dad insists, “More than try. Promise”. He does and his father says with relief, “Can’t break a dying man’s promise.” That vow he made has haunted him every day as he's struggled and pushed to live up to it but always with the thought that he's falling short, letting him down. His loss and grief are irremediable. Further challenges await as the pair confront destitution and despair and love and loss. The hotel they both work in closes, unemployment is rife and food is in short supply, but perhaps together they can get through it; or not. It’s in these tragically personal scenes that writer Gareth Farr skilfully and successfully extends the play into a commentary on the plight of so many in society by devising a situation filled with realism and simply dropping a reference here and there without overtly labouring the message. Castle-Gibb and Ricketts rise to the needs of an incrementally demanding script for which Director Tessa Walker has required energy, conviction and passion on a set guaranteed to give them their healthy number of daily steps. It’s a daunting sight on entering the intimate downstairs studio of Hampstead Theatre. Designer Cecilia Carey has constructed a wooden floorboard traverse that extends from one end of the room to the other and forms Dad’s boat and multiple other locations with the addition of just a table and two chairs. It begs the question as to how two actors might possibly address the audience spread along such a length. Movement Director Rebecca Wield collaborated with Carey and between them have ensured that every inch of space is covered, creating locations and using the ends for exits and entrances so that the foreboding layout actually enhances the story. Depicting mealtimes and other events by symbolic gestures and repeated motifs also serves to focus on the message and the couple's feelings rather than the business in hand. Designers Matt Haskins on lighting and Holly Khan on sound enrich this environment with inputs that range from the pulsating disco to the lapping of waves, and through daytime and nighttime.The play has come a long way since theatre company Just Add Milk approached Farr to write a play about food poverty and he started to volunteer in one of the three food banks in Truro to gain an understanding of how the system worked and who used it. Perhaps it's that first-hand experience and his ability to create credible and complex characters that makes Biscuits For Breakfast so wonderfully entertaining and powerful.

The Artistic Director might have changed but the Orange Tree Theatre continues to resurrect plays from eras that many houses might shun. Last year outgoing Director Paul Miller completed his series of Shaw productions with the fabulously amusing Arms and the Man. Now, Tom Littler, newly arrived from Jermyn Street Theatre, has chosen Somerset Maugham’s equally humorous The Circle as his debut work, and what a joy it is.It’s only when a director decides to delve into the past and launch a revival of a work that may have languished for years that we are reminded of the greatness of men such as these and in particular their command of language, extensive vocabularies and exquisite sentence structure. They might have engaged in the occasional ‘damn’ but characters were otherwise able to express themselves fully without recourse to endless swearing and obscenities. The Circle, first produced at the Haymarket Theatre in March 1921, is an opportunity to revel in a linguistically rich period piece, full of wit and humour.By that time, Maugham was an established author and playwright. 1908 saw four plays of his running contemporaneously in the West End. While his language caused no offence, his plots did not always go down well among the upper classes, whose lives were riddled with social indiscretions, affairs. divorces, camouflages and hypocrisies. Maugham, who spent a lifetime hiding, denying and yet flaunting his homosexuality, depending on where he was and with whom, was only too well aware of this, but it didn’t stop him from exposing the lives of the well-to-do.The action takes place over the course of a day in an elegant family home in Aston-Adey, Dorset, delightfully brought to life with tasteful period furniture by Designer Louie Whitemore, that allows for ease of movement around the pieces and space for the card table to be opened up. Arnold Champion-Cheney (Pete Ashmore) enters and is clearly agitated. He stares at a figurine, picks it up and returns it to the precise location from which George Murray (Robert Maskell), his butler, has just removed it. Pacing up and down he contemplates the arrival of his mother, Lady Catherine ‘Kitty’ Champion-Cheney (Jane Asher) and her partner, Lord ‘Hughie’ Porteus (Nicholas Le Prevost) with whom she eloped thirty years ago. Arnold is her only child, but they have not met since she abandoned him and his father Clive Champion-Cheney (Clive Francis) to go off with Lord Porteus. The impending difficult reunion is exacerbated by coinciding with a visit from his father, who is staying in the lodge on the estate. His wife, Elizabeth Champion-Cheney (Olivia Vinall), provides him no comfort, as she is enthusiastically welcoming the arrival of the woman who sacrificed all for love and defied the social mores of the day. As will soon be revealed the realities of Kittie’s life turned out to be less than idyllic and the couple have spent a lifetime of merely tolerating each other, which adds to the tension in the house. Their circumstances are of particular interest to Elizabeth as she is currently enamoured of Arnold’s friend, Edward ‘Teddie’ Luton (Chirag Benedict Lobo), a planter in the Federated Malay States. Will history repeat itself? The answer to that comes in the last moments of the play which entices to the very end with the back and forth of the, “Will she, won’t she?” question. For those concerned with the unravelling of plot there is an entertaining sufficiency, but for modern audiences it surely plays second fiddle to the writing and the impeccable delivery by this superbly cast ensemble. Maugham once observed, 'Words have weight, sound, and appearance; it is only by considering these that you can write a sentence that is good to look at and good to listen to'. One might add that it is only by understanding this that justice can be done to the text by those performing it. Leading this art is the veteran Francis, wittily sardonic and relishing lines that are almost asides, but delivered with a cutting edge, never forgetting the power of the pause to heighten the anticipation. He injects the humour at every opportunity as does Le Prevost who creates a mumbling, chuntering, henpecked man who has clearly learned the art of living and coping with his wife and is resigned to his fate. Asher, in contrast oozes class and self-confidence, dominating scenes as befits her character, holding forth with flawless articulation. The others similarly sustain the style and manners of their class, but it is the casting of Lobo that provides an aural contrast and also serves as a reminder that this was the period of Empire. Presumably the part could be cast as a young, white colonial careerist, instead we have a youthful brown man of Indian-Portuguese descent with a natural Indian accent energetically moving around professing his love for Elizabeth. It’s easy to see why he stirs the spirit of excitement and adventure in her.Dressed in his cricket whites he stands out in Whitemore’s overall design which features some stunning outfits for Asher. Costume Supervisor Evelien Van Camp has ensured that the fits are perfect and that the vivid colours create a stunning presence which, of course, Asher knows how to exude. Lighting by Chris McDonnell gives added vibrancy and also carefully enhances the passage of time and the varying moods of the room. Playing gently in the background is a rich rural soundscape from Sound Designer Max Pappenheim, that has the singing of birds and the muted woofs of a distant dog interspersed among the music of the period. The production is a triumph for all the creatives involved. Director Tom Littler has created a masterpiece of naturalism that plays to the intimacy of the theatre, performed in the round and utilising the four doorways onto the floor to give the impression of a large country house that extends into the gardens and beyond the confines of this one room. Ted Morgan, in his biography, Somerset Maugham, claims The Circle as ‘the first of Maugham's plays to be booed’, implying that others came later. The reason according to The Times newspaper of the day was the very last scene: ‘a bold ending – too bold, apparently, for some orthodox moralists in the gallery last night – but approved, we think, by the more mundane majority in the house’. If that was the case, then Littler has deservedly attracted that audience, who rather than being ‘mundane’ are perhaps discerning and show their appreciation with rapturous applause.

John Godber reinforces his campaign for the arts in education with Teechers Leavers ’22, an updated version of his original play now on its fourth UK tour courtesy of the outstanding Blackeyed Theatre,seen on this occasion at Greenwich Theatre.Godber says this version of the platy ‘tries to take into account the embattled nature of state education during and post Covid 19. It still retains its comic elements, but I think the play is stronger, if darker, as it describes a school system which pushes arts subjects to the fringes’. It certainly doesn’t fail in those respects, with some hard-hitting scenes that expose the struggles the arts are currently experiencing in education. This overtly critical polemic runs through the bouncy, comic production in what he describes as a ‘highly physical depiction of state education’. It’s been made all the more relevant by the recent suicide of head teacher Ruth Perry following an OFSTED inspection which downgraded her school from outstanding to inadequate. Godber makes his revelations through the eyes and insights of three year 11 pupils, Salty (Michael Ayiotis), Gail (Ciara Morris) and Hobby (Terenia Barlow) who energetically take on numerous roles portraying both teachers and students. They attend Whitewall Academy, a struggling school that’s failed its Ofsted and is overshadowed by the vastly superior elite private school down the road that provides the quality of education that these kids can only dream of. In particular they follow the arrival of Miss Nixon, a new drama teacher, full of passion and commitment who has a profound influence on the students. But can she survive and sustain the will to fight for them and what she believes in or will she lured to an easier life and fabulous facilities in the rival institution?The minimalist set by Victoria Spearing is an apt reflection of the lack of resources that teachers face on a daily basis. As many drama teachers know, it’s amazing what you can do with just three tables and three chairs. It serves this production well, giving Director Adrian McDougall and assistant Martha Godber an open stage. Along with choreographer Scott Jenkins, they’ve created and action-packed show filled with movement, dance routines and fast-paced dialogue, appropriately lit to suit the changing moods by Alan Valentine. The ensemble cast have great chemistry and punchy delivery, with timing that makes the most of the comedy and yet can be toned down for the hard message that brings the ending to a thought-provoking and brave low rather than a show-stopping high. Reality really hits home. Godber observes, “I had thought that social divisions might have grown closer in the thirty odd years since I first wrote the play: unfortunately, from what I hear and see, the divisions are wider and the marginalisation of drama in the curriculum in state education is still advancing strongly”. Spot on!

Noah McCreadie has scored a triumph with his debut play Getaway/Runaway and the intimacy of the King’s Head Theatre provides the perfect setting for this intense drama from Shot In The Dark Theatre CompanyFour characters sit on chairs against the rear wall of the thrust stage. They are motionless, intently gazing into the dimly lit void in front of them. Each will become embroiled in the uncomfortable family gathering that will soon ensue. For now, they can merely reflect upon their pasts, anticipate the imminent encounters and wonder what their futures might hold. Mark (Chris Moore), whose bi-polar wife left him when he went to prison, has recently been released, though he will never be free from the fear of going back to the alcoholism which previously consumed him. He’s living with his new partner, Alice (Coline Atterbury), a woman who shrouds herself in mystery and probably has a history that is better left unexplored, judging by some of her comments. Her manner is unnerving and leaves room for endless speculation. Rising from their seats Mark’s two children arrive one after the other. They are going to stay with their estranged father (and by default, Alice) for the first time since his release. Given their uneasy previous relationship with him that meeting could prove difficult in itself, but Eliot (Nye Occomore) brings with him the burden of currently being accused of rape by his ex-girlfriend. His sister, Saoirse (Kiera Murray), is rather the odd one out in this quartet; she is actually fairly normal, with nothing major going on, nor anything to hide, except dealing with her family She has just to carry the baggage of being surrounded by the others.Awkward moments abound in this drama that is full of suspense and has the unnerving edge of a Hitchcock thriller, riddled with power games, gaslighting and dysfunctionality. McCreadie wrote the initial draft in his last term at the Oxford School of Drama, since when it has emerged with revisions via an intense period of research and development combined with workshops that elicited widespread input. The benefits of this process shine through. The language is focussed and economical and the storyline tightly structured. Each character fills out in a drip-feed of revelations and the dynamic passes from one to the other as insights emerge. There are moments of humour; repartee gives relief from the sustained intensity, but they are passing, as the complexity of each character builds up and the story progresses. McCreadie speaks enthusiastically of being partnered with Hannah McLeod as co-director in this staging, who skilfully directed the company’s debut production, Cheer Up Slug at the Bread and Roses Theatre, Clapham. The doubling has added to the insights brought to the production and heightened the sensitivities that play out in the intense sixty minutes. Getaway/Runaway has the fervour of closely-knit team with members who understand and compliment each other. There are fine performances throughout. Occomore exudes a troubled demeanour that gives him an air of mystery even before we know the full extent of his problems. Murray reaches out to him with sisterly concern but she also shows the stress of the situation that's complicated by having to deal with her father and that woman. However she knows her father well, but still depairs at his situation while Moore captures the regrets of a man whose life went wrong and who continues to live with the guilt. Atterbury, meanwhile, portrays the most puzzling of characters, relishing the release of snippets from her past while remaining an enigma. Her revelations simply beg more questions while her currents motives are shrouded and probably cause for suspicion. She merits a play of her own; we’re all begging to know more.Added to this must be an appreciation of the evocative original score and sound design by Johnny Edwards. It’s simbiosis with the text is a vital part of the production and is present throughout. At times it lingers hauntingly in the background sustaining the air of creepy mystery and nervous suspense that permeates the play, but there are also moments of dramatic crescendos that rise to accompany arguments and scenes of personal torment, before fading again to a pianissimo that keeps us on edge. It’s another triumph in itself.In one understated description of the play McCreadie describes it merely as ‘a twisted and darkly comedic family drama’. The simplicity of that statement, whilst true, does no justice to what is a haunting and captivating exploration of the human psyche.

In a rather surprising debut choice, Stella Powell-Jones has commenced her incumbency as Artistic Director of Jermyn Street Theatre with Timberlake Wertenbaker’s uninspired adaptation of Henri-Pierre Roché’s autobiographical wartime novel Jules and Jim, made famous in François Truffaut’s film. The play follows the fluctuating relationships between three characters. A casual encounter brings Jules (Samuel Collings) and Jim (Alex) together and their mutual interest in the arts is outweighed only by their compulsive engagement in the conquest of women. These two elements generate a blossoming friendship and lifelong bond. Their respective Austrian and French backgrounds give them different approaches to romance and ways of handling the fairer sex, though neither performance conveys the nationality of the individual. They go to Greece, where the smile on the statue of a goddess sets their hearts beating. Upon their return the image and their rambling conversations are given a focus with the arrival of Kath (Patricia Allison) whose face, and in particular her smile, they see as the deity’s incarnation. Thus the ménage à trois is born. Marriages and break-ups abound. The divisive First World War comes and goes with scant mention and seemingly little impact on them, despite their being on opposite sides. Allison creates such a strong character that it begs the question as to she why she bothers with either of them. Kath is obsessed with having children, but she is dismissive of the two she has, now that they are more grown up. They are as much loose ends as Gilberte, a sometime fiance of Jim’s, and Albert, a neighbour with whom Kath has an affair. Though much is related about these people, knowing this to be a three hander there is no hope of their popping up in the flesh to create a storm and inject some passionate controversy into the play. Instead they are consigned to being characters of repeated passing reference and monologue material. Across the board this is a below par production. Isabella van Braeckel’s set is an abstract swirl of blue lines that cover the walls and floor stand in contrast to her rather dull costumes. The screened-off bubbling water frame makes it’s contribution when revealed for underwater scenes, but is something of an oddity. Lighting by Chris McDonnell and music and sound design by Holly Khan have their moments but overall are not captivating and fail to lift.The production fails to live up to its promise of being ‘romantic and emotionally compelling'. Overall, a disappointing start at the theatre for Powell-Jones where she has previously made impressive inputs.

The current production of Joe DiPietro’s F**king Men at Waterloo East Theatre is an updated version of his original 2009 script that successfully takes note of developments on the gay scene in the years since it was seen at London’s King’s Head TheatreDiPietro says, “Much about our queer lives has evolved and changed since the play’s debut, so to bring contemporary attitudes to this roundelay of sex, love and intimacy has opened up new layers of meaning.” Director Steve Kunis has strikingly embraced DiPietro’s wish that this version be seen ‘through a youthful and modern lens’ in order ‘to deliver a sexy, incisive and hilarious night out’. All of those elements abound in the hands of a stunningly well-chosen quartet of actors thanks to Casting Director Anne Vosser. Alex Britt, Charlie Condou, Derek Mitchell, Stanton Plummer-Cambridge could not be better matched and rise to the challenge of creating ten characters in the roundabout of ten scenes that reflect the structure of Schnitzler’s infamous La Ronde, on which the play draws for inspiration.There is, of course, an issue here. Schnitzler, a Jewish medical doctor, wrote the original, Reigen, in 1898. It was a critique of stratified Viennese society and the hypocrisy of judgements made by the upper classes about the lower classes and by those in respectable work or positions about those they deemed to be beneath them. Seemingly he shocked himself by what he wrote, declaring some scenes to be unprintable. The censors agreed and banned it in 1904. Initially he had not envisioned its being performed. When it was finally staged in 1921 the first public performance was closed down by the Vienna police and Schnitzler was prosecuted for obscenity among outpourings of anti-semitism. Controversy further surrounded the play with the 1964 film version, Circle of Love, that contained the Jane Fonda nude scene and The Blue Room, a 1998 stage adaptation by David Hare at the Donmar in which Nicole Kidman revealed herself from behind and Iain Glen performed a full-frontal cartwheel.How times have changed! No play based on the original can capture the outrage caused when Schnitzler’s characters were revealed to be engaging in social intercourse, let alone sexual. Yet everyone knew it went on and they were content with the associated lies, infidelities, deceptions and cover-ups that accompanied the perceived immorality along with the male domination of all the set-ups.. HIs format consisted of consisted of five female characters (The Prostitute, The Housemaid, The Married Woman, The Young Girl and The Actress) and five male characters (The Soldier, The Student, The Husband, The Poet and The Count) paired in five scenes, with one of them alternately providing continuity into the next scene.The UK in the 21st century, though still class-ridden, is unlikely to be shocked by such pairings. Whilst duplicitous revelations might cause some embarrassment and temporary inconvenience the newspaper headlines will soon change and perhaps only a few close connections will remember the actions and hold them against anyone. We have only to look at royalty and politicians to realise this. DiPietro turns his attention away from the syphilitic salons of 19th century Europe to the contemporary gay scene, where they have been replaced by syphilitic saunas. That disease can now be remedied and fears of HIV infection and unprotected sex have been mitigated by the emergence of PrEP and a range of drugs controlling viral load. Conversations about being undetectable are commonplace, though as this play illustrates in one pairing, honesty is not always forthcoming. Some things never change!So how has DiPietro moved on from the focus on social stratification? EM Forster’s 'only connect', receives a mention and the idea of bridges between people that span from hook-ups to relationships is now the central theme. Charlie Condou and Stanton Plummer-Cambridge present an overt example in their ‘open relationship’ which sounds great in theory but comes unstuck in the detail. Other relationships, while as physically intimate, are emotionally more detached. The same pair as Journalist and Actor battle issues of coming out in Hollywood, a place where it ought to be easy and not matter, but still puts careers at risk and where Hume's Law is the foundation of debate.Having only four actors play multiple roles means paying considerable attention to the subtle transitions from one scene to another and realising that a different person has now emerged. Alex Britt plays three young characters as befitting his true self, yet manages to imbue each with a distinctive persona. He provides varying degrees of seductive charm that are in marked contrast to the amusing portrayal of socially ineptitude by Derek Mitchell as the Writer, which is clearly differentiated from the uneasiness he attributes to his role as the Teacher.A traditional La Ronde can be difficult to stage with a succession of scene changes that are often clumsy and time-consuming. Set and Costume Designer Cara Evens has overcome this problem with a perspex screen of windows and doors that cuts a shallow acute angle across the stage. Thanks to Lighting Designer Alex Lewer these can be see-through or opaque, often creating indoor/outdoor locations. Meanwhile, Sound Designer Charlie Smith facilitates the transitions with a variety of apposite music and sounds. Central to this daisy-chain of sexual encounters are the depictions of intercourse and oral engagement. Movement & Intimacy Director Lee Crowley has his hands full in depicting these moments. The production goes with vivid semi-nude sex scenes of humping bare bums and frontal flashes, the success of which is probably a divisive issue. The effect has been achieved with far more subtlety and there is a feeling that this might be a preamble to a full-blown porn show. It could leave some offended and others frustrated.It’s perhaps helpful to set aside notions of Schnitzler and embrace DiPietro’s F**king Men as a modern insight into the merry-go-round of meetings and relationships that are part of every gay man’’s experience. Laugh out loud at the wealth of humour and empathise with men who lay bare their souls as much as their bodies.

A fast pace and some hilarious banter about their names, how to pronounce and spell them, gets Barry McStay’s Breeding off to an immediately engaging and rip-roaring start that says, “You’re going to be in for a treat,” and it does not disappoint.Not only did Barry McStay write the play, he also plays Eoin who has a chance encounter with Zeb, played by Dan Nicholson. You can have some fun with friends on the very precise enunciation of their handles. The two of them ooze that casual and endearing bonhomie that makes you want to immediately be part of their social set, not that we know anything about their mates, because this hour or so is tightly focussed on the overriding concern of the two guys and their relationship with the woman who can fulfill or thwart their burning ambition. No time is wasted on getting to the heart of the matter. There’s a chance meeting, nervous introductions, an impassioned snog and before you know it they've moved in with each other and have been married for two years. In their settled existence they have everything except a family and so they decide to embark on what turns out to be the tortuous path of adopting a child. As they point out, the ease with which straight couples can breed and churn out sprogs seems highly irresponsible compared to the hurdles or tests, examinations, interviews and determinations for worthiness and suitability that people trying to adopt have go through and that’s before you filter in the the gay ingredient. They are confident, however, that their balanced relationship will provide the perfect environment for a child to grow up in. Zeb will be the fun daddy and Eoin will be the serious daddy. All they have to do now is to persuade Beth, the social worker, and those behind her on the boards, committees and assessment panels who make the decision. Aamira Challenger is charming and empathetic, sensitively guiding them through the process, herself knowing how protracted, intrusive and frustrating it can be. As they progress through the stages the couple become increasingly close to her. But how will it all end? Well, this is not simply a play about how the adoption system works, though it provides an educational insight into that. With a couple of twists, it turns into a deeply moving drama that confronts tragedy and welcomes redemption. Director Matthew Iliffe navigates this path with sensitivity and draws out performances from a trio that is well-cast, thanks to Casting Consultant, Nadine Rennie CDG, and who manage the dynamics of the script in a way that flows from the comedy to the functional narrative and through the complex denouement without jarring. The team of creatives is also clearly in tune with his vision. Intimacy Director Jess Tucker-Boyd has clearly given the cast the security and ease of working together that allows for the generation of emotional intensity, and inevitably Sound Designer Julian Starr, reflects and enhances the moods and transitions unobtrusively yet supportively, working in harmony with Lighting Designer Ryan Joseph Stafford who achieves the same results. Add a simple, functional set and credible costumes from Ceci Calf and the smooth work of Stage Manager Lamesha Ruddock and you have a production that oozes accomplishment in every department.McStay’s success here follows on from his triumph in Vespertilio and puts him in that happy band of writers to look out for, but it's the director, actors and creative team who have fashioned his vision for Breeding into a tremendously enjoyable and moving tragi-comedy.

Given the vast repertoire of plays available to theatre companies one often wonders how they decide on what to perform next and why: in this case, the somewhat lesser-known work by the hugely demanding Dario Fo, Trumpets and Raspberries (Clacson, Trombette e Pernacchi). There were certainly easier options available to Wayward Theatre Productions who have taken on the challenge of reviving this 1981 play, historically entrenched in teh 70's, at Barons Court Theatre, Curtain Up and it’s not gone well, starting with choice of venue.The place has one of the smaller stages among the many London theatre pubs, yet it can often fit the bill perfectly, as seen, for example, in A Butcher of Distinction with a cast of three. Fitting nine actors and a hospital bed complete with body into its confines is ambitious to say the least. Other cluttered scenes present a real hazard, as illustrated when one of the cast fell over a small table and the performance was temporarily stopped. Accidents happen, but this play with all its clowning around just needs more space, as seen in the recent highly successful production of Fo's Accidental Death of a Anrchist down the road at the Lyric, Hammersmith.Fo’s plot clearly relates to the 1978 kidnap of Italian prime minister Aldo Moro by the Red Brigades, but substitutes for him Gianni Agnelli, the wealthy head of the Fiat corporation from 1966 to 2003, so that Antonio can be one of his employees who becomes embroiled in a a failed kidnap attempt and also rail againg the evils of capitalism. Antonio, attempts to rescue Agnelli, but flees the scene in a hail of bullets, leaving his jacket on Agnelli's body. Unrecognisable, the hospital begins reconstructive surgery on the largely missing face of Agnelli assuming him to be Antonio who is now branded a terrorist. Agnelli recovers but with the face of Antonio. With two Antonio’s in the frame the scene is set for the classic farcical mixups of mistaken identity.Fo’s play is rooted in the Italian, indeed mainland European, terrorist ethos of the period. He realised that this setting might not survive the test time and so unlike more protective playwrights he encouraged future directors to adapt and rewrite to to make the socialist, anti-capitalist agenda relevant to a new age. Unfortunately, this opportunity has not been seized upon. An aside about COVID and a passing reference to a UK tabloid really doesn’t bring it into the politics of today or the ongoing battle of the working class against the elitism of a stratified society and the rule of corporations. Admittedly, that is hard to do in country that awaits the coronation of its next monarch and refuses to espouse a left-wing agenda.The productions redeeming feature is the energy of the cast, but even this doesn’t always contribute to the script’s delivery. The shouting of lines becomes wearisome, especially given the confined nature of the venue. Alex Hayden J Smith loudly gives an over-the-top, eccentric performance as both Agnelli and Antoni. Thea Rubina as his wife is marginally more controlled with nuanced delivery in the creation of a character full of both outrage and humour. Ian Crosson as the Doctoris is more balanced in a powerfully comic and considered performance as the eccentric Germanic professor. The cast enter spiritedly into the farce. It’s a disappointment, therefore that the potentially hilarious nose-feeding scene that is imaginatively devised falls flat because the ingenious contraption can’t be properly affixed and simply doesn’t work.That the evening drags on for two hours, forty-five minutes simply adds to the unfortunate shortcomings of the production.

In an unlikely melding of three disparate stories, Jack Fairey finds common ground in his moving play The Sun, The Mountain, and Me for Bedivere Arts at the Jack Studio Theatre, in which he also plays the solo character.The setting is unmistakably that of an artist’s studio, but also where Arthur lives, the cluttered circumference of the room littered with all the paraphernalia and more that such a creative possesses, yet a set designed by Joe Malyan in such a way that Fairey at one stage can literally spread his wings. There are works in progress and a couple of significant portraits of two people in his life that occupy four easels. These make the troubled relationship with his brother and the issues he has with his girlfriend ever-present and haunting. It’s modern-day Egham, which sounds very much at odds when placed beside Ancient Greece and Kenya where the other two stories are set, but it serves to root them all in one man’s troubled existence. Arthur is a young man whose declining mental health constantly hinders him from finishing the work he has to do. His mind wanders from the job in hand to the practicalities of moving into a flat with his girlfriend, packing the boxes, deciding what to take and what can be thrown; beset by the insecurities of change and a hesitant move to a new lifestyle. In between the times he picks up his brush he relates the two stories that say something about his own life. From the confines of his flat we are taken to the tower in which Icarus and his father, Daedalus are imprisoned. Here, hope, of sorts, is found as Daedalus constructs the wings that will will enable them to fly to freedom. But they come with a caveat. Fly too close to the sun and the heat will melt them. Icarus overwhelmed by his freedom loses control, ignores the warning and plunges to his death on the sea.Meanwhile in Kenya, Felice Benuzzi is dying of boredom, but can see the souring peaks of Mount Kenya. He vows to climb the mountain with fellow prisoner of war Dr. Giovanni (Giuàn) Balletto. They escape the camp and after several setbacks they accept reaching a lower peak rather than the highest as the culmination of their ambition. Then they decided to return to the camp and give themselves up along with their freedom, though they were repatriated after the war ended. The Sun, The Mountain, and Me has a sound accompaniment by George Jennings that adds further depth to this cleverly constructed work. On hearing the intricately interwoven and sensitively related stories told by Fairey it becomes increasingly clear how the delicate mind of the artist can identify with them, find hope and inspiration tinged with hardship and reality and in so doing add his own search for mental release and freedom to them.

It was just another day in Szechwan with people going about their daily business until three wandering gods in disguise turned up in the city in need of a place to stay while they continued their search for a shining example of honesty among the humans. You might think that for beings traditionally imbued with omniscience it would be an easy task. But this is theatre and more specifically the epic theatre of Bertol Brecht, who set the divine challenge eighty years ago in The Good Person of Szechwan.Nick Blakeley, Callum Coates and Tim Samuels create three contrasting deities and provide some delightful humour as they embark on their search. If they can find this person then the future of humanity is safe, otherwise we are all doomed. With the stakes set so high they are fortunate to bump into Wang, endearingly played with wry humour by Leo Wan. Wang is an impoverished purveyor of water, who knows everyone. He sets about asking if anyone has a room but to his dismay and humiliation he is turned away by them all. Enter Shen Te, (Ami Tredrea) who, as the local prostitute draws on her experience of accommodating visiting men, and reluctantly offers to take them in. Overwhelmed by her generosity and despite her profession the gods announce that she is the only good person they have encountered and after some debate about interfering in economics they decide to give her $1000. With this she rents a tobacco shop. The news of her wealth spreads rapidly and she is soon beset by an array of locals asking for money to an extent that could destroy her business, but she finds the hard decisions of capitalism to go against her nature. Thus she invents and plays the figure of her fictional cousin Shui Ta behind whose persona she can hide to make all the difficult decisions. Trudeau flits effortlessly between the two roles, while further heightening the comedy. What she can’t do is hide where he is staying and that provokes disputes over references and rent with the landlady Mrs Mi Tzu, eccentrically played with enormous presence by Melody Brown. Now throw in a romance with the mischievous Yang Sun, whom Aidan Cheng turns into an embodiment of the yin/yang opposites, and the scene is set for a carnival of chaos with a multitude of issues emerging throughout. Despite appeals to the gods, when all is revealed, they are unable to resolve her dilemma of being a good woman whom the system forced to become a bad man. The gods return home and Brecht gives no resolution to her plight, which is a universal paradox. Instead, there is the famous epilogue, in which he throws the ball into the audience’s court explaining that any answer must come from the people themselves in society; it cannot be handed down.This adaptation by Nina Segal, directed by Anthony Lau at the Lyric Hammersmith Theatre in an ETT and Sheffield Theatres co-production, takes that ending in its stride, devoting energy and fun to expounding the situations in a frenzy of activity. There’s none of the heaviness that might be expected in the German communist’s writing, as scene after scene espouses comedy, cabaret and circus in a fast-paced and vibrant outpouring of satire that often seems well on its way to pantomime via commedia dell’arte. Apparently Segal ‘has never been interested in naturalism’ and this production is testament to her desire to create ‘something accessible and contemporary’.Strong performances abound on the set by Georgia Lowe, which is entertaining and full of colour in itself. Lighting Designer Jessica Hung Han Yun, Composer DJ Walde and Sound Designer Alexandra Faye Braithwaite have worked imaginatively to create coherent embellishment for the text and support for the directorial style. It’s a joy to see Brecht’s work so energetically and vividly staged.

One night, in a pub, in the North of England is the setting for Jim Cartwright’s carefully crafted dark comedy TWO. Maverick Theatre Company in association with Theatre at the Tabard, however, has launched its national pub and club tour of the play in this ever-popular Chiswick local, creating a pub within a pub with just a few tables and chairs, a wooden bar with stools, a beer pump and a row of optics that fit snugly onto the upstairs’ stage.Here two actors, Claire Louise Amias and Greg Snowden, play 14 different characters, starting out as the couple whose lives have seemingly revolved around the place. “We’ve been here bloody years. In fact we met outside this pub when we were kids, me and cow. Too young to get in,.... We had our first drink in here, we courted in here, we had our twenty first’s in here, we had our wedding reception here, and now we own the bloody place” In the cast list they are referred to simply as Landlord and Landlady. The job defines who they are, to each other and to the locals whose routines they accommodate. They have each other, but little else and on this day, every year, the silent issue that eats away at the love they have for each other comes to the surface but is never overcome or resolved. His use of ‘cow’ could be as a term of endearment but it’s followed by a string of invective and hurtful remarks that run throughout the evening. Landlady gives as good as she gets and by closing time the simmering pot boils over and the source of their antagonism is laid bare. It’s not all bitterness and resentment, however, as much is steeped in comedy, placing us in receipt of asides and direct address and allowing us to witness the camouflage of pleasantness and civility they create for the patrons, several of whom now appear in succession, requiring deft changes of costumes and character. Each has has a tale to whether appearing alone or as a couple.Old Woman comes in every day at the same time, bemoaning her lot as carer for her husband whose demise can’t come soon enough for her. Moth the flirt and Maudie the gullible provider of his financial needs show yet another couple with a far from perfect relationship, but who stay together because it’s easier than separating. In contrast, Old Man lives in a vacuum of memories, dreaming of his late wife and imagining that she appears to him. The fantasies of Mrs Iger are quite different. “I love big men. Big, quiet, strong men. That’s all I want,” she says. Pity, therefore, that she’s stuck with the puny Mr Iger, the source of all her frustrations; but at least she can control him. The control theme continues with the next couple. Roy is a man consumed with jealousy and rules his pregnant wife Lesley through fear and physical abuse; an unpleasant individual who will never accept his wife’s fidelity and so tortures her with accusations. They are followed in stark contrast by Fred and Alice. Theirs is a simple love that has seen them through a hard life. Fred has stood by his wife through her mental difficulties and she observes that they are close, but in heir own way.The procession of punters concludes with two solo characters: A Woman who arrives to confront the married man she is having a fling with, but yet again can’t summon up the nerve to do so and finally, Boy. He wanders in to look for his father and his plight begins to soften the Landlady and Landlord’s bitterness towards each other. With the customers gone the issue that dominates their lives is brought into the open and while not permanently dealt with, their conversation suggests that with their assertions of love the healing process might have begun.Cartwright’s play might be straightforward but the vignettes that require two people to perform so many contrasting characters in rapid succession is hugely demanding; particularly when the relationship between Landlord and Landlady also has to be sustained and developed. Amias and Snowden make a valiant attempt to balance the humour and pathos. The characters they protray are delineated and have unique identities, but would benefit from having greater depth in order to heighten their credibility. along with sustained regional accents.TWO is a theatrical gem whose characters are amenable to a variety portrayals. Any opportunity to see it is to be welcomed.

If you are looking for a remarkable piece of unusual drama then the Hampstead Theatre’s production of little scratch is now being presented by New Diorama in their perfectly-suited theatre. It’s bold and brave to the point of stirring incredulity that something so powerful can be created from such stark simplicity. The secret is in the complexity of the text and its delivery.The blackened stage has two white tables set apart from each other. On them are collections of items which will be incorporated into the performance as a source of sound effects and often some amusement. A scrubbing brush is scratched, a packet of crisps is opened and noisily crunched, cereals in a bowl are munched and water is gargled and gurgled as teeth are cleaned and it’s even drunk.Four microphone stand across the front of the stage as though set up for a backing group in a recording studio. Four actors emerge from the wings dressed in a mix of greys and blacks and take up their positions behind the mics where they stand for the hundred minute run. A light shines down from above each of them, courtesy of lighting designer Bethany Gupwell, for they are the ensemble of leads who will take us through the narrative. The star of the of the show is the unseen woman to whom all of their words relate, leaving us free to create our own image of her. There is also another powerful presence in the form of an evocative soundscape devised by Melanie Wilson that plays throughout.If you imagine all the things that might go through your head during the course of a day then you will have a feel for this play. Think of the conversations you have with your self; the myriad observations you make on people who pass by you; the bewilderment you experience when you look at what someone is doing; the memories you conjure up; the reminders you give yourself; the plans you make; the reflections on mundane activities; the thoughts about family, friends and loved ones and maybe a recent tragedy you’ve experienced the memory of which will not go away. Add to this the context of a self-harming woman who contemplates telling her boyfriend that she has been raped by the boss who is still present at work. Imagine this stream of consciousness vocalised in multiple short sentences, words and sounds as though put together as musical score for a quartet, with each voice precisely cued, sometimes solo but also overlapping with the other voices in a chorus, at times in unison or harmony but very often discordantly interrupting each other. Katie Mitchell has been meticulous in crafting the complex text written by Miriam Battye, which was adapted from Rebecca Watson’s book. Timing the entrance of each actor’s voice with such precision creates an effect akin to a musical work. Apart from learning this minefield of language the cast of Eleanor Henderson, Eve Ponsonby, Rebekah Murrell, Ragevan Vasan rise to the enormous challenge of imbuing it with a string of emotions that capture the changing moods and circumstances of the twenty-four hour period over which it is set. It’s a remarkable feat.The play is a work like no other, that places demands on those seeing it to remain focussed and attentive; to listen, listen, listen. To do so is breathtakingly and stunningly rewarding.

There is an inherent difficulty with plays that seek to tell a well-known story and thus lack a sense of mystery and element of surprise. Gail Louw’s The Only White at Chelsea Theatre has no, “Will he, won’t he?” suspense, because we know that by the end of the play John Harris (Edward Sage-Green) will have been executed and have become the only white man to be sentenced to death in Apartheid South Africa. There were a 133 others, but they were all either black or mixed race.Harris was a South African schoolteacher who became Chairman of SANROC (the South African Non Racial Olympic Committee). The organisation’s aim was to have the International Olympic Committee ban South Africa from the 1964 Olympics for having an exclusively white team. He was eventually arrested for his anti-apartheid campaigning and although committed to non-violent protest, he began to consider whether violent actions were acceptable if they involved no physical danger or harm to people. Blowing up telephone lines having proved to be an ineffective strategy in terms of impact. To the surprise of those who knew him, on 24 July 1964 he left a suitcase with an explosive device in it on a whites-only platform at Johannesburg Park Station. He telephoned a warning to the Johannesburg Railway Police with which the play opens. “This is the African Resistance Movement. We have planted a bomb, It is not our intention to harm anyone. Clear the concourse.”His message went all the way to the President, and at every level it was decided that nothing should be done. A terrorist bomb that caused suffering suited the government’s agenda. The explosion killed a 77-year-old woman and injured 23 others. Harris was arrested, betrayed during his trial by fellow activist and friend John Lloyd and finally sentenced to death.The action of the play thereafter is divided between two locations, cleverly staged in a single set design by Malena Arcucci. Along the sitting room wall of the Hain family home in Pretoria, is Harris’s prison cell; rear centre stage surrounded by classic period furniture, the warmth and comfort of the bright orange sofa and rug standing out in stark contrast to the bare grey walls and sleeping surface that Harris sees every day and where Sage-Green's writhing portrays the agonies of Harris’ brutal treatment.The Hains invited Ann Harris (Avena Mansergh-Wallace) and her baby of a few weeks to move in with them to be nearer her husband. The Hains were members of the anti-apartheid Liberal Party and so the social and political scene is set for an initial discussion about whether Harris would do such a thing. The point at which this questioning becomes acceptance that he did tends to float around rather ambiguously and also includes wider discussions about whether the ends justify the means and how friends and family cope with the realities of life under the oppressive regime. This occupies much of the first act but after the interval the devastating consequences for his his friends and family come to the fore. Combining the didactic, discursive and emotional elements is at times challenging and creates some difficulty in providing a clear focus.Mansergh-Wallace conveys Ann’s distress and difficulties that must have have confronted many in South Africa at the time about deciding their future. The scenes she has in the prison reveal the frustrations of both husband and wife, but their conversations, rooted in correspondence from the archive, reveal a rather stilted and archaic form of address which seems at odds with their situation. Emma Wilkinson Wright shows Ad Hain to be a proactive, creative and practical woman ready to address issues and deal with them as circumstances demand, while Robert Blackwood, as husband Wal, is more given to ponderous consideration and weighing matters. Gil Sidaway's Peter Hain is in many respects the driving force behind the play’s progression. As the boy who was to become a Labour MP, an ardent campaigner and is currently a member of the House of Lords, it’s fascinating to see Sidaway credibly portray him as a sparkling fourteen-year-old whose questioning prompts much of what we learn. He also seems to mature with the circumstances, as childhood gives way to activism and debate in a foreshadowing of his future.Director Antony Shrubs weaves his way through the text but is clearly limited by the plays lack of a clear identity; it’s neither an energetic exposition of ‘terrorist’ tactics and rival strategies nor a heart-rending and gripping tale of family tragedy.It stands as an interesting play, that embeds political activism in the lives of ordinary people and as such is an insight into what many in South Africa must beed forced to confront in those troubled times.

The Coronet Theatre is once again hosting The National Theatre of Norway, who have arrived with their take on August Strindberg’s dark matrimonial drama Dance of Death. Strictly speaking it is Dance of Death I, as Strindberg wrote a second play Dance of Death II that places the couple in a stronger financial position as opposed to the impoverished state we find them in this play.Written in Swedish, it has been translated into Norwegian by Eva Sharp with surtitles in English which appear on large tv screens downstage left and right. The version of the script we read is therefore an approximation to what we hear and presumably lacks many of the nuances and much of the imagery of the original. Claiming also to have comic elements one suspects that, while there are a few laughs, some of the humour might also have been lost. In any language, it’s a heavy piece that embraces Strindberg’s gloom and despair under the direction Marit Moum Aune. Placing the couple on opposite sides of the stage for many of the exchanges highlights the distance between them as does their often aggressive physicality even when closer together. Set on a remote, sparsely inhabited island off the coast of Sweden Edgar (Jon Øigarden), a retired artillery captain, who has never lost his commanding ways, lives there with his wife, Alice (Pia Tjelta), a former actress. They are about to celebrate (hardly the word) a significant wedding anniversary: the 25th dysfunctional year of an angry relationship in which they freely hurl their proclamations of hatred for each other across the room.This diurnal round of abuse which shows every sign of continuing ad nauseam; it would be just a matter of who gave in or gave up first. Today, however, the ritual is interrupted by the arrival of Alice’s cousin, Kurt (Thorbjørn Harr), whose conversations reveal even more of he family’s dark side. Not only has Edgar upset the entire community in which he lives, to the point that he is now a social outcast, but he also conspired with Kurt’s former wife to ensure he was not given custody of the children. Edgar and Alice had already played off each of their own children against the other parent until both offspring left home and dissociated themselves. Venom runs deep in these circles and it’s not long before Kurt and Alice, who clearly have a past together which they are willing to flirtingly revive, begin to conspire against Edgar. Further complexities ensue around Edgar’s health, the contents of his will and various other matters before events have gone full circle and life returns to it’s vengeful norm, without Kurt and with a glimpse of affection. But the inescapability of their situation is highlighted, perhaps questionably, by repeating the opening few pages of the script at the end.In their respective roles the trio give strong performances. Øigarden remains disgruntled throughout, reaching peaks of rage and moments of deathly resignation, though his falls to the floor often seem comically out of place. Tjelta conveys the bitterness of a woman who sacrificed her own career and life to be left devoid of fulfilment and ravaged with resentment. It is only in her moments with Kurt that there is a glimmer of what might have been, but even that seems no more than a game. Harr, meanwhile soulfully portrays with resignation Kurt’s regrets and the unfortunate hand that life has dealt him.The set, designed by Even Børsum, could be seen as representation of the emptiness of their lives which must be endured in the real world. A period sitting room has in its midst a bare-framed structure in the shape of a house; it is hollow, encompassing only the table, which in the absence of much food has little purpose and is used only for playing spiteful games of cards. The frame serves to represent an outside location, as do all the animals and birds that descend somewhat weirdly like a taxidermist’s s dream, filling the air with images of death.Rather than evoking any sort of empathy, and certainly not sympathy, Dance of Death has more the feeling of a study in human nature, in which we are observers of the extraordinary behaviour of isolated humans.

Matthew Jameson embarked on a major project ten years ago. His ambition was to take Ten Days That Shook the World, John Reed’s detailed and penetrating book about the October 1917 revolution in Russia, and present it as a play. It later became the focus of his MA in Dramaturgy at Birkbeck, University of London, and the coursework deadline for that finally pressured him into completing the task.He now had the script and, as Deputy Director of the Space on the Isle of Dogs, a venue in which to perform it. Enter the newly-formed BolshEpic Theatre company and all became set for the epic work to come to life. Simply named Ten Days, its doing a ten day run with a cast of ten, telling the story of ten specific, though not consecutive, days that changed the course of Russian history and subsequently the world. Jameson has also directed the play with Andy Straw and David Grindley as assistants and dramaturgy in the hands of Mike Carter and plays the part of journalist John Reed who acts as a narrator, giving an opening introduction, moving the action on from time to time and making observations. A two-hour+ intensive course in some details of Russian history, might sound rather demanding if not daunting, and it is. What Jameson has achieved however, is to inject events with humour, generate fast-paced action and create clearly defined characters that even doubling up can’t blur. He’s also puts in some lines that clearly relate to our times and perhaps invite ponderings as to why we are not ourselves in a state of revolution. He’s placed the audience on either side of a traverse performing area that extends from the stage, across the floor and up into the balcony. With scenes performed throughout that area there is something of a tennis-match effect, which keeps you alert and with multiple doors available there is an ongoing surprise element as to where the next scene will emerge from. “It’s above you”, might be the shout, as speeches rain down from the balcony (also making its production debut?) and Tsar Nicholas II, eccentrically performed by Tice Oakfield (who plays five other roles), addresses his people and confirms how detached he is from them and the real world.With the abdication of Tsar the Russian Provisional Government is established, but this is not to be a smooth transition of power and its time will be short lived. Now the floodgates are open for individuals to fulfil their ambitions and for rival factions in the nation to declare war on each other, as opposition to the new government mounts. Fortunately, all the internecine ideological battles between Mensheviks and Bolsheviks and their infighting are easier to follow onstage than they are in print. That’s not to say that getting lost in the mire is not likely. Yet it all remains highly entertaining, with just a few parts where the momentum drops and the desire for some perhaps unnecessary comic scenes takes over the timeline’s momentum.The chaotic state of the nation as it deals with war on its borders, internal strife, inflation, starvation and unemployment is echoed in the many meetings that are held and where the characters assert themselves. Bearing an alarming resemblance to Rishi Sunak, Deven Modha brings zeal and comedy to the role of Kerensky, the Minister for War, while Matthew Wright as Lenin and Oyinka Yusuff as Trotsky reveal the difficulties of selling one’s beliefs and sense of urgency to others and of carrying the burden of responsibility. Bringing some secretarial order and a steady hand to meetings Maggie Cole doubles two similar roles as Lenin’s wife Krupskay and Minister for Charities, Kishkin. Salvatore Scarpa stands out with considerable presence portraying both Antonov, of the Military Revolutionary Committee and Martov, Party Leader of the Mensheviks. Clementina Allende Iriarte, Steven Shawcroft and Andy Straw each successfully play three roles bringing a range of dimensions to the production.It’s an exhausting event for all concerned and one that merits admiration for all for pulling off a monumental and complex work that is history brought to life and made fun, while providing food for thought about the times in which we live. BAs Jameson points out, the story is ‘ridiculous, sensational, impossible. But it's also true’. It’s a remarkable experience to see a work of such immense scale undertaken at the Space where it nevertheless fits very comfortably, so in the words of the man behind it all, “Leave your politics in the foyer, wave your flag, stamp your feet and join the chants, because the next revolution may not have an intermission”.Note: In response to the Cost of Living Crisis, BolshEpic are partnering with the Space to trial a ‘Pay What You Choose’ ticketing model to offer tickets starting from £5.

Hilarious, satirical, superbly staged and brilliantly performed, Accidental Death of an Anarchist has hit the Lyric, Hammersmith in an explosion of theatricality following its sensational success at the Sheffield Playhouse.From the outset it’s as though a starter gun has been fired for a race that goes at the speed of a 100m sprint but sustains the excitement of that pace for a couple of hours. Setting the tempo is Daniel Rigby (Maniac), from whom words flow in torrents and yet whose speeches are delivered with such precise enunciation that nothing is lost. The only way a line might be missed is as it’s drowned out by outbursts of extended laughter, which if he were to wait every time for them to fully subside would have us there till the early hours. The lunacy of the play is set on the third and subsequently the fourth floor of police headquarters. (Even the transition from one floor to the other is amusingly clever; its the same set with a twist in which Designer Anna Reid has cleverly captured institutional blandness.) The events follow on from the death of a falsely-accused anarchist whilst in police interrogation. Debate rages over whether the young man, whose body was found on the pavement outside the building, accidentally fell from the window, was pushed or committed suicide. The police have two versions of the incident on their files, making them more or less complicit in his defenestration, depending on which you prefer. Enter The Maniac who has been brought in on charges of impersonation, something at which he subsequently proves to be an expert. However, he has a defence for any and every charge they can bring: he is legally certified as insane and has a framed copy of the certificate to prove it. Lest anyone be in doubt, believes that ‘all the world’s a stage’ and that he is called upon to live a life of performance in front of the populous, who are his audience. Unable to resist the thrilling opportunities presented by his current situation, he immerses himself into the police investigation of the anarchist’s death by disguising himself firstly as the judge, who insists the case be reopened, then as a forensic expert and finally as a bishop. He thus performs to an audience both on and off stage with a broken fourth wall.The play has its origins in the death of Giuseppe 'Pino' Pinelli, aged forty-one, a well-known member of anarchist organisations in Milan who ‘fell’ from a window while in police detention following a deadly bomb explosion in the city in 1969. Following investigations into police behaviour his death was declared to be an accident and he was posthumously cleared of any involvement when others were found to be responsible. The event caused huge controversy and Dario Fo along with his wife Franca Rame penned this play as an excoriating farce about the functioning of the police force.Fo was not precious about his work and encouraged translators (in this case Tom Basden) and directors (here Daniel Raggett) to adapt his plays to the circumstances of the day; an attitude he espoused from the commedia dell'arte of his native country. Basden has embraced Fo’s wish wholeheartedly. The play is now set in London and is replete with direct references to police scandals, botched investigations and the criticisms of what goes on behind the walls of police stations. These references pack a punch and are speedily interwoven with all the blatant humour to which they stand out in stark contrast. Their brazen inclusion as exemplars of ineptitude shock and amuse at the same time. The same cannot be said for the chilling statistics of deaths in custody and the paltry number of charges brought against officers, displayed after the final curtain. We might laugh at the follies of the Force but for those caught up in the reality of them it is anything but a joke.For the cast, all the nonsense is taken very seriously, of course, for maximum effect, starting with Howard Ward who, as Inspector Burton, thinks he has a simple investigation to carry out of the sort he has done a thousand times before. He’s clearly risen in rank from the days when he was PC Plod, but has retained something of the manner, hence it takes very little time for him to be out of his depth and enraged by the non-conformity of The Maniac. Meanwhile, Tony Gardner gives the impression that Superintendent Curry’s boots never walked the streets, but that rather he had contacts in all the right places to elevate him above his level of competence. Po-faced and struggling to remember which version of events he is currently adhering to, his open reminders to himself of the current cover-up are, of course, amusing but also ring very true of many in authority. Between these two officers, other levels of incompetence are occupied by an endearing, Asian-looking (his family are actually from Grenada) Shane David-Joseph as Constable Joseph and Jordan Metcalfe as Detective Daisy. In the latter’s case the name probably says it all. How could he possibly be taken seriously? Metcalfe, as something of a fall guy, supplies plenty of evidence of the officer’s ineptitude. David-Joseph, apart from accentuating the Met’s inclusivity and the nature of its multi-racial task force, also hints that some retain a semblance of sanity despite the fools who surround them, though that probably won’t last, as his moments of contributing to the fray suggest. Which leaves Ruby Thomas, who in contrast to others, enters with a demeanour of privilege from another world to brandish her limited journalistic skills as Fi Phelan and also become embroiled in the chaos. The casting chemistry is explosive. Rigby, however, is the man in charge and around whom everything revolves and by whom the frenetic pace is determine. Accolades should shower upon him for this performance, as they should for Basden for his hilarious, penetrating and contemporary adaptation and Raggett for directing a block-buster show. ’When Fo was warded the 1997 Nobel Prize in Literature, the committee commended him as one "who emulates the jesters of the Middle Ages in scourging authority and upholding the dignity of the downtrodden”. Oh that he were still with us! But at least we can be thankful that his radical theatrical tradition is being perpetuated in productions such as this.

Our lives are indebted to many people. We know the names of the (mostly male) pioneers who made the big breakthroughs and advances in so many fields. Other names (mostly female) are buried in history. Family Tree by Mojisola Adebayo at the Belgrade Theatre, with the Actors Touring Company in association with Brixton House, is a tribute to the part played by one such person in changing the lives of people around the world.Henrietta Lacks (1920-1951) was born in Virginia, an African-American woman raised by her maternal grandfather after her large family was split up following her mother’s death. She worked on his tobacco farm where she met her husband and had children. Diagnosed with adenocarcinoma she was admitted to Johns Hopkins hospital, Baltimore, where she eventually died. What she didn’t know was that tissue samples had been taken from her body to be used in research. In those days the idea of giving consent for such procedures was not established and she knew nothing about what was going on. Most cells die after a few days, but the ones from her cancerous sample were able to be repeatedly split and remain alive. Hence they became known as ‘immortal’ and were named HeLa cells. They are still in use today and have formed the basis of research into many areas, including cancer, HIV/AIDS, COVID, gene mapping, allergic reactions and the development of the polio vaccine. There is plenty in this story to make for a fascinating play, as has been done before. According to Adebayo, it “paints a family tree of black women whose cells, blood and waters have birthed, raised and changed the world”, but what she goes on to do is extend that into a wider framework of three timelines and multiple issues that diminish its focus and adds to its complexity. We learn about Lacks, but also about authenticated gynaecological experiments carried out on black women in the era of slaveryalong with an attempt to update the subject with reference to the BLM movement, the contribution of nurses of various ethnicities to the NHS and their role during the recent pandemic and environmental concerns; all worthy topics in themselves, but in this context creating a sense of overload and catch-all.These divergent themes are explored by a multi-rolling ensemble of Mofetoluwa Akande, Keziah Joseph and Aimée Powell. They become characters in the various times and themes. There often amusing conversations are, however, largely descriptive and we can nod our heads with them in a mood of, “Oh yes, there was that and that happened and you're right about that”, but there is no cutting edge debate. Meanwhile, Alistair Hall makes a number entrances and exits as the silent and haunting Smoking Man; a wheezing cowboy figure whose appearances perhaps unite the tobacco plantation with cancer and deforestation and whose burial in land where things will grow suggest that even laid to rest in teh earth we can give life, as Lacks has done.Her part is played by Aminita Francis, somewhat oddly dressed in a startling purple suit reminiscent of the Civil Rights era, though it adds to the colour that Set and Costume Designer Simon Kenny has brought to this production. However, her language is anything but that of an activist even if some of her imagery conjures up conflicting issues. She speaks in strings of words making a poetic association of ideas in a mystical, shamanistic manner as though possessed by the conflicts of the centuries. Some of the juxtapositions are clever; others amusing, but they come so thick and fast as to leave little time for reflection. Her presence is impactful, both visually and linguistically, as she weaves her way with the others around the equally powerful, if ambiguous, set that provides food for the imagination. Is this a burn-out Garden of Eden that has become a symbol that Lacks refers to as the Garden of Black Death or just somewhere that Smoking Man wanders for eternity reflecting upon his past decisions? Then there is the multibranched structure, clearly symbolic of a family tree but suggesting the Tree of Life with cells that light up adding to the impressive work of Lighting Designer Simisola Majekodunmi. Other enhancing effects come from Sound Designer Francesca Amewudah-Rivers and Movement Director Diane Alison Mitchell.These elements are all brought together under the direction of Matthew Xia who has created a production that is a delight to watch but overly ambitious in terms of its script with a message that consequently lingers in the trees rather than our hearts and minds.

What a joy to see a very simple and equally silly story adapted for the stage and turned into an hour of light-hearted frivolity, full of humour and ingenuity. The Emperor's New Clothes at the Bread and Roses Theatre remains true to the original tale, but places it in a new context that makes complete sense and to whihc it is entirely suited. Hans Christian Andersen’s original story was published in1837 as the final instalment of his Fairy Tales Told for Children. Appealing to young and old alike it’s stood the test of time, has been translated into over 100 languages and also formed the basis of films and television shows. If the main thrust of the story is the blind stupidity and humiliation of the Emperor, what really appeals at the moment is how those in power can hoodwink people into believing something that is manifestly false and how they then go on to convince others and propagate the lie. Add you own set of political scenarios to that framework.Where better to place a story about new clothes than in the world of haute couture, where there's nothing like being known as the The Emperor to assert your position in a highly competitive industry. But even emperors can stumble across hard times and with a failed season behind him, this Emperor’s fashion house is desperate for a new idea that will re-establish the brand at the forefront of design. Gathering his court of eccentric advisers around him, a series of crackpot ideas are broached that go no further than to show his advisors to be living in worlds of their own and ill-equipped to do their jobs.Then the breakthrough comes. “Have you heard of ‘NuCloth’? The team behind it are new in town so it's totally exclusive. It’s a whole new type of material. And the really special thing about it is that you can only see it if you’re hot, and you can’t if you’re not...” The Emperor, played wonderfully as an over-the-top odd-ball with an excess of ego by Jacob Baird, falls for the idea immediately. Now the art of deception goes into overdrive, led by Hannah McLeod and Sasha Brooks who impersonate French suppliers of the faux fabric named Bree and Oche. (Say their names together out loud! Oche is pronounced Osh). Dressed in matching Columbo-style raincoats and vivid red berets they are a challenge to French and Saunders. With visits to the production line by various courtiers, where the splendours of the fabric are extolled, it’s not long before the Emperor himself goes to see the new suit they are making for him and is left in awe. He proclaims that he will be the sole model on the catwalk at the next fashion show with just this one garment on display. Thus, to astonishing and revealing effect, he struts the catwalk until the hoax is laid bare.The Emperor's New Clothes is written and performed by Baby Lamb Productions, a group of six recent graduates from The Oxford School of Drama. Director/actors Hannah McLeod and Janik Rajapakse clearly know how to craft a show and ensure that the cast bounce off each other. They’ve channeled the ensemble’s abundant confidence and talents to create a highly-charged razzmatazz production with well-defined characters, capable of clearly-contrasted doubling up. Kip O’Sullivan strikes some stunning poses as a fashionista, his face brimming with expression and a walk to match. He also opens and closes the play as the wild compère of the fashion show. Hannah McLeod responds to every imperial command in her second role as an animated Alexa, while Nisha Emrich doubles as a courier, but makes her impact as the exasperated Maureen; the voice of sanity and the only person with any sense of reality. Hence, she is ignored and ridiculed by others.Even if this weren’t the first theatrical endeavour of a new drama group The Emperor's New Clothes would still rank as a solid piece of comedy drama. That the company has the imagination, wit and skill to create it at such an early stage in their development augers well for their future and is a credit to all involved.

Promoted as ‘a twisting and darkly comic thriller’, Under the Black Rock, at the Arcola Theatre, has each of those elements in different measures, but probably doesn’t achieve what the sum of the parts implies.It is certainly dark by way of both content and the staging by Director Ben Kavanagh, who ensures a stark portrayal of life in a society riddled with danger. Set in Northern Ireland at the height of the Troubles, the play covers familiar territory, but is more concerned with the tactics of fighting for the cause than the underlying politics. At the heart of it is the Ryan family, who become a microcosm of what the conflict involved for families across the province. Here one realises that just to write about it, the choice of words and terminology, can imply being on one side or the other; to live amongst it was a tightrope act. Head of the house is Cashal, whom John Nayagam instils with stern and brutal passion in all aspects of his life. His controlling behaviour sees his teenage son Alan (Jordan Walker) introduced to the IRA, long before he has the wisdom or courage to safely carry out tasks. His early death has a devastating impact on his sister Niamh. Evanna Lynch transforms her from a pleasant girl to an independent, rebellious woman consumed with anger towards her parents and passion for the cause into which she becomes fully immersed.Flora Montgomery gives an anguished and embittered performance as Sandra Ryan, wife and mother, who suffers the brutality of her husband, the tragic loss of her son, and the prospect of her daughter going the same way. Despite all her begging and pleading to both her and her husband that she not become involved her efforts are fruitless. Rather confusingly, at times, she doubles up as Bridget, the hard-headed commander of the local IRA cell. She’s tough and engineers her way through an increasingly complex series of lies, deceits, cover-ups, double crossings and betrayals that run with considerable pace through Act II often adding to the other confusions. Another doubling sees Walker reappear as Fin, the bomb-maker who delivers some of the most chilling lines in the play in an amoral defence of a mistimed bombing made worse by his excessive loading of the bomb with nails and shrapnel, causing deaths and appalling injuries. The horrors of this are exceeded only a gruesome torture scene; definitely not for the faint-hearted.As for the comedy, this is largely in the hands of Elizabeth Counsell who plays the local devout busybody, who is full lof amusing ripostes and one-liners that provide some relief but can also seem out of place in an otherwise agonising setting. Keeping more than an eye on what’s happening in his parish, Keith Dunphy plays the priest who is more deeply involved in politics than piety and treads a thin line of credibility.Set and Costume Designer Ceci Calf has created a minimalist and versatile set of stark simplicity with just a table and some chairs that suits the tenor of the script. The great feature that dominates everything is the huge black rock that hangs over the action like the sword of Damocles, ensuring misfortune and imminent perils. Joseph Ed Thomas does a highly imaginative job in lighting the darkness with subtle moods and some spectacular moments of creative inspiration. His tangerine flood early on is stunning.Under the Black Rock marks the writing debut for Tim Edge and draws on his years working and travelling around Ireland during the Troubles. He’s certainly not short of ideas and material, and while the work show considerable promise it remains interesting rather than gripping.

There are situations and circumstances in which if you didn’t laugh you’d cry or perhaps in Katie Arnstein’s case just freeze. She has a track record of doing that. On hearing that her mother had cancer, after she had frozen, thawed out and probably shed a tear or two she decided to apply her trade to the tragedy and make a comedy show out of it, because that's what people really need in the current economic crisis.The Long Run, now on at The Vault Festival, is her journey through the months of treatment her mother underwent for bowel cancer. It was the classic case of a woman being healthy, taking life in moderation and not being prone to illness, only to have the the big C bombshell land. Given that her daughter works in comedy it could have been worse. She might have had cancer somewhere less suited to generating embarrassing situations that afford opportunities for creating lavatorial laughter and anal humour. In that respect it was a horribly dark cloud with a silver lining.The show is a tribute to her mother and the millions of people with similar conditions who go through protracted and uncomfortable treatment. It’s also about the people who live through it with them. Arnstein was no doubt a tower of strength to her mother, but we also hear the story of George. He’s one of several people she meets in Derby Hospital’s radiotherapy waiting room who are all sources of amusement, but her relationship with George becomes a friendship. After she’s made considerable fun out of him, which we’ve all enjoyed, his sad story is revealed and like Arnstein we discover he is doing something in order to live with it. In his case, despite his age, he’s decided to run a marathon and is using the hospital as his training ground. There’s much more to George and his story but what goes on the Pit stays in the Pit!Director Bec Martin’s traverse layout has Arnstein covering every inch of the space, using the stage end as the hospital location and the rest as a running track and area for general banter. Arnstein makes a potentially heavy subject comfortably light. She smiles for most of the time and adopts an air of having just invited us round to hear her stories and have a good laugh as the humour flows from her speedy, unrelenting delivery, some witty asides and her numerous funny descriptions of situations and characters.Consequently, the time flies by and before we know where we are the race is won and we have gained a heartwarming insight into a very delicate and difficult subject that shows the power of love over adversity.

The setting for Lucy Beresford-Knox’s Burn, could hardly be better. The Pit at the Vault Festival has exposed brick walls and an arched ceiling; all the makings of a dark, dank prison that sets the scene for an intense encounter between Queen Mary I (Frankie Hyde-Peace) and Thomas Cranmer (Kelvin Giles).Cranmer’s hey-day is over. The servant of Henry VIII and Edward VI, who was appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, has failed to manoeuvre his way from being the leading light of the newly-formed Church of England and author of the Book of Common Prayer, to a man who could not credibly change his position to serve the Catholic Queen. The country had reverted to it’s old traditions and as a reformer he has now spent two years confined for treason and heresy, of which his Thirty-Nine Articles stand testimony. The bright ceremonial robes of ecclesiastical office along with all the pomp and ceremonies have been stripped away. Giles appears in the simpler period robes of a commoner with the suggestion Doctor of Divinity. His Cranmer is humble and dejected; a shadow of his former self, yet still possessed of his intellect and the hope that he can escape the fate that awaits him. He’s apologetic and willing to recant; to concede to the errors he has made and to seek forgiveness for having led the nation astray.Mary, however, is having none of it. Under a different monarch he might have talked his way out of the situation, but his is lost cause. The two engage in conversation while moving their pieces on a chess board. The Game of Kings could not be more appropriate in its silent symbolism.The monarch and the bishop vie for supremacy, but the latter is now just another pawn in the power struggle that grips the country. Hyde-Peace has regal presence, dressed in glistening black that has all the overtones of having come prepared for a funeral. Cranmer can never win this game and ultimately she has no need to win an argument; his plight is non negotiable. She is the Queen and by her order he will be executed.Yet we know that in just two years the same fate will await her. The tide is already turning for her. A chalk-board proclaims "Mary I of England was a strong, handsome queen. Intelligent, independent, and a powerful woman. She will forever be remembered as such”. Her fine attributes and positive qualities are one by one wiped off and crossed out to be replaced with their opposites that become her legacy which forever lables her as 'Bloody Mary'. Hyde-Peace shows Mary increasingly tormented by her weaknesses and the public’s growing negative perception of her. Cranmer may not have the upper hand but he knows how to inflict pain and turn the screw. She remains in control, however, dominating the encounter, though the other element in the play, that of her being a woman, is also ever-present. As the words are changed it’s hard not to think that it’s a device that would only work if the stereotypical failings of her sex were able to be deployed. As the first woman on the throne of England she was not excused the misogyny of the centuries and the need to placate men. She might win this battle with Cranmer, but that war would still not be won even centuries later.Beresford-Knox’s script captures the gravitas of the situation, is immersed in history, without being didactic, and captures the humanity of two people raised to positions they must defend, but who are otherwise ordinary people with the same feelings and emotions as the peasants on the street and Director Sophie Wilson gives these full reign. There is no hint of the simplicity that would come from creating a good guy and bad guy, but rather of teamwork that has created a production that is delicately nuanced, finely balanced and completely captivating.This Beresford-Knox’s debut play and it marks and outstanding entry into the world of script-writing. She has found a niche in which her understanding of characters, historical research and style of writing are moulded into powerful and captivating theatre.

Two main strands are interwoven in Harrison David Rivers’ This Bitter Earth, currently making its UK premiere at the White Bear Theatre, Kennington. It’s both a troubled interracial love story and a journey through events that gave rise to and reinforced the Black Lives Matter movement.The obvious alignment of Jesse (Martin Edwards) with the cause is here rejected. He’s a contemplative and thoughtful young black writer who can understand, almost, why people become embroiled in protests and campaigns, but political activism in simply not his thing. This is despite having been brought up in the south as a Baptist, the denomination that gave rise to Martin Luther King Jr. His parents embrace the happy-clappy form of Christian devotion, but he has no time for anything to do with their faith. He is immersed in his academic studies and enjoys the seclusion of the flat in which he can focus on his current project. Neil (Max Sterne), on the other hand, is a somewhat guilt-ridden young white man from a privileged background with very wealthy parents who paid for his exclusive education. He finds it difficult to understand Jesse’s position, but is not prepared to compromise on his commitment to attending protests in support of BLM. Their different temperaments and backgrounds inevitably make for upheavals in a relationship they both want to make work.Apparently when the play opened in San Francisco in 2017, it received rave reviews and that appreciation has been sustained throughout it revivals across the USA. Acclaim on this side of the Pond is likely to be more muted. The play embraces some traditional narrative devices in a non-linear structure with flashbacks. At times these introduce an element of confusion as to where and with whom events are happening. The opening scene becomes a motif of words and movement that (unnecessarily) appears three times during the play and it doesn’t take a great deal of perception to work out the tragic ending from its first presentation. Hence there is a level of predictability about the entire plot. We hear Jesse’s refrain, “I’m the nicest person I know” a couple of times, introducing a level of narcissism that questions how anyone could ever live up to being his boyfriend. If we are in any doubt about the basis for his having a white partner he explains that black men have never learned how to be “soft”. Really? All black men? What that generalisation means is that he’s never found a black man as soft as himself, (and Edwards plays it very softly) but then Neil is hardly a prime example of gentleness. All white men are not “soft”.The multiple scenes and locations make for much reorganising of the two large rather grubby-looking uncovered foam cuboids, on which you really wouldn’t want to have sex, but they do. The room is a standard home office where Jesse works on his laptop. It’s a suitably functional set from Isabella Van Braeckel that is enhanced by a lighting design by Chuma Emembolu who collaborated with Director Peter Cieply on the sound. Cieply makes good use of the limited stage space, but it’s surprising that in the tight confines of this cosy theatre the characters seems so distant. There’s a feeling that something is not right between Edwards and Sterne and their lack of chemistry makes emotional engagement difficult. They are not helped by trying to work in “American” accents, which sound bland and unconnected to any identifiable part of the country.This Bitter Earth is interesting, but certainty not ground-breaking. Its attempt to show how external events can impinge on the everyday life of a couple is a worthwhile story, but here, perhaps connected with the adaptations to the original script for the UK market, it feels somewhat contrived and lacking in harmony.

I was invited to see Tabby Lamb’s Happy Meal at Brixton House and made it quite clear that it wasn’t my sort of thing, that I would go in order to be supportive, that I almost certainly wouldn’t enjoy it, that I wouldn’t be reviewing it and that two people prancing around in penguin costumes welcoming and waving at the audience would probably put me off for the duration of the performance, in which I would also be subjected to immersion in the world of social media with its LOLs and IRLs.That I have now put pen to paper is a tribute to everyone involved in the this fabulously sparkling production. The penguins were no more than a warm-up routine, reminding us that whatever adults turn out to be, they were all once fun-loving children. They waddled off as the house lights went down and after a quick costume change Tommi Bryson (she/her) and Sam Crerar (they/he) reappeared to tell the tale of Bette and Alec, respectively. Seeing them casually and colourfully attired, still with an air of Playchool about them, I was almost set to embrace what is dauntingly described in one place as ‘a joyful queer rom-com where Millennial meets Gen Z and change is all around’ and elsewhere as a ‘joyful trans rom-com for the Myspace generation!’ At least both proclaimed an event that would be ‘joyful'.The play has the structure of multiple journeys that run simultaneously. The characters who start as teens become adults; social media evolves from MySpace to TikTok via many other platforms and cis becomes trans. Entrenched in the digital age our couple inevitably meet online. Hidden behind any persona each chooses, they explore various paths of getting to know each other. Each communicates from behind one of the matching pair of screens designed by Ben Stones from where they peer through the window to the outside world, or maybe just to the Cloud. Meanwhile they are also engaged in playing an online game.Video designer Daniel Denton has a seemingly endless array of projections that turn the screens in to a hotbed of activity shifting locations and media symbols that combine to form both a stimulus and a commentary. They are a show in themselves, bursting with life and colour surrounded by Kieron Johnson’s dramatic lighting and a soundscape that combines the noises of media platforms with music from across the years.As they tentatively reveal more about themselves and grow closer together so the moment for an IRL encounter approaches. Alec eventually reveals his intention to transition. This is the point at which in a play less well-crafted the light-hearted banter and the fun-filled exchanges might wither away. Instead the level of emotional intensity is raised, the dialogue assumes greater depth but the trap of self pity and lamentation is cleverly avoided. There’s a hitch in the relationship which is ultimately resolved but that is just an example of the complexities of transitioning and how easy it is for things to be misunderstood. There is no dreary wallowing here, just a refreshing and nuanced message of affirmation. Bryson and Crerar have by this stage created strong but very different characters, each of whom handles life in their own, with their strengths and weaknesses playing out differently in the cyber world and the realm of personal relationships. They might be on a seesaw at times, but it’s one that remains balanced throughout, powered by the positive chemistry between them.Thus, Happy Meal turned out to be as joyful as promised, in an action-packed, humorous and touching production superbly fashoned by Director Jamie Fletcher, with input from Dramaturg Jennifer Bakst. FootnoteBrixton House has currently raised just under £1k towards providing free tickets in support and aid of any Trans, Non-Binary or Gender Non-Conforming person who otherwise could not afford a ticket to see the show as part of their Pay-It-Forward Ticket Scheme. If you would like to contribute or take advantage of the offer, please follow this link: https://bit.ly/HappyMealFund

What could be more appropriate to mark the opening of the Southwark Playhouse Elephant than Enda Walsh’s The Walworth Farce. The state-of-the-art theatre’s minimalist industrial design is symbolic of the ongoing regeneration of this area and stands in stark contrast to the dreary council flat on the Walworth estate that provides the play’s setting. It illustrates how the area around the Elephant and Castle has changed, even though the vitality important housing blocks are still there.The play within a play sits on a continuum from comedy to tragedy via absurdism and black comedy with the required nod to farce. As such, it has moments when the names of other writers or plays in the these genres come to mind. Whatever it might be reminiscent of it, this is, of course, uniquely Walsh. His concern with routines and ‘getting through the day’ are evident from the outset although he’s also said, ‘I don't like seeing everyday life on stage: it's boring. I like my plays to exist in an abstract, expressionistic world: the audience has to learn its rules and then connect with these characters who are, on the surface dreadful monsters', This combines with his fascination for characters ‘on the edge of madness, or have entered it.’ All of this and a good measure of Irish humour is to be found in The Walworth Farce along with some vigorous performances.Dinny (Dan Skinner) left Cork and with his two sons Sean (Emmet Byrne) and Blake (Killian Coyle) and set up home in this grim apartment with multiple locks on the door, lest anyone with a score to settle should come knocking. It’s become his refuge and their prison. Here on a daily basis they perform a play that recounts the people and the past they have left behind. Only Sean ever leaves, in order to purchase the same items each day from the local Tesco’s. One day he messes up the routine when he leaves the supermarket with wrong bag, incurring Dinny’s wrath. Worse comes when Hayley (Rachelle Diedericks) on the checkout, whom Sean has engaged in conversation, turns up with his bag.Skinner is every bit the entertainer as he acts out the play and directs his boys. They all assume multiple roles, both male and female, with wigs flying in all directions as they switch from one character to another. He also hints at the darker side of Dinny, the father who controls not just of the play but the lives of his sons and who will tolerate no criticism. Coyle, with his over-the-top characterisations and womanly costumes, shows the extent to which Blake is trapped in this setting, subservient and submissive to the whims of his father and with a life that consists only of giving a whole-hearted performance to please him and rise to his expectations. Byrne, in contrast, portrays the young man who has a daily glimpse of the outside world and whose mind is elsewhere. He goes through the motions of the play in a dead-pan manner, conforms and provides humour as a dullard, but ultimately his mind is elsewhere and he is merely biding his time. The surprise appearance of Hayley at the start of act two breathes a whole new dimension into the plot. She has no idea what she has walked into and that she is about to disrupt the day’s performance. Diedericks enters as though this were a normal family home. Her bubbly naivety as she chats about the mix-up over the shopping is hilarious, as Dinny looks on aghast at this unthinkable intrusion into his home and his play. Undeterred, its not long before he has a made her too a prisoner and member of the cast.Director Nicky Allpress has created a fast-paced and enormously entertaining production that flows with energy around the three-roomed shabby set designed convincingly by Anisha Fields. Amongst all the nonsense, however, it is perhaps easy to miss the simmering dark undertones that will that bring The Walworth Farce to its devastatingly tragic ending and seems to come out of the blue.This is an exciting opportunity to see Walsh's work on stage and celebrate the arrival of a new London theatre.

A Macbeth that features only the eponymous hero and his wife is an opportunity to define the characters and chart the shifting balance of power between them as the tragedy unfolds. This production by The Faction, at Wilton’s Music Hall, however struggles to lift the the text from the hacked pages and seems to lack clear intent.The production makes use of the full stage and lower level apron. It’s a big space for two actors, that serves to keep them separated when performing at the same time in different locations, but also frustrates their intimacy and denies a sense of claustrophobic entanglement in a plan that grows increasingly awry. The physicality of perfromance associated the company is also missing, except for the opening of Act II, where it comes as something of a surprising change of style that then seems out of place. Two well-matched actors with considerable chemistry between them might make this situation work, but Sophie Spreadbury and Christopher York lack that and director Mark Leipacher seems to have given them free reign in developing separate roles rather than forging a tightly bonded reciprocal relationship. Despite the text and the settings York just doesn’t seem to establish his credibility in the role as a soldier and a man desperate for power who is capable of committing atrocities; a situation that leaves him with little by way of contrast for when Macbeth's agonising self-doubt and demise set in. Spreadbury fares slightly better and seems more focussed on the mission and the fulfilment of Bellona’s ambition. (Yes, Lady Macbeth has this alternative name; - as if her character needs to be reinforced as a Roman goddess of war!) Having established her earlier strength she is able to contrast the Lady’s descent into madness and suicide. There’s more that just doesn’t hit the mark in this production. Costuming lacks coherence. The opening war scenes have Macbeth in modern desert combat gear, complete with what is possibly a replica AK47. Lady Macbeth is casually attired at home as she receives letters from the front. Later they dress up in tartan suits to greet their guests and yet other scenes see them in Elizabethan outfits. Not establishing an overall style also applies to the projections that make good use of the plain cyclorama. Titles appear with act, scene and line references to commence each section of the performance and then fade. Suggestions from the text are visualised, as with the falcon flying repeatedly across the moon. A BBC News-style clip makes a one-off appearance. The overall effect, however, is of a collection of ideas thrown together because the means of doing so happened to be available.Zeynep Kepekli has some striking features in lighting that leave us in no doubt as to how much blood is swishing around. Sophia Simensky design fares less well. The oversized bath tub that is wheeled on and off seems excessive, despite the references to washing in the script, and Macbeth's bath was unconvincingly depicted.The appearance of bears, ranging from the walk-on of a monstrous Disney-style character, to a string of tiny teddies being pulled from the symbolic cot brought laughter from the auditorium and not in a kind way. The jury is still out on the red feathers for blood that gave the appearance of shredded boas.This approach to Macbeth is not without successful precedent but here the vision and skill to pull it off is seriously lacking.

A heteronormative upbringing fights homosexual desire on a battleground that moves from a playful and sometimes argumentative bedroom to the secluded cell of a conversion therapy unit. That's the setting for Passion, an outstanding debut play written and performed by Nadav Burstein (Jude) and Tom Dalrymple (Josh); another feather in the cap of the The Lion & Unicorn Theatre, Kentish Town that continues its work of pioneering new writing and supporting young theatre-makers.The lads graduated from the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire in 2022 and formed Floating Shed theatre company. Passion was shown as a work-in-progress and is now presented as a completed work, though the experience of a week’s run will almost certainly invite some tweaking, as it would for all playwrights.There are many fine features in Passion, which is sensitively directed with clarity of purpose by Frances Gillard. The story is simple and the text sparse, inviting measured delivery and allowing time for reflection upon the situations and for the tensions to permeate the air. Josh is clear about a his feelings for Jude; he just wishes Jude were in the same position of being comfortable with his sexuality so that he could reciprocate. It’s not that Jude isn’t crazy about Josh, but he struggles under the influence of his Orthodox Christian father and years of conservative Christian teaching from the Church, both of which are deeply embedded within him. His mind is wrapped in a blanket of sin and guilt. When his father discovers his son’s orientation Jude is sent on a course of conversion therapy.Events run in parallel. Dazzling white light fills the stage for scenes where Jude is under what sounds like interrogation and psychological pressure from a torturing Voice of God. That is life in the conversion centre. These alternate with interactions between the two boys, who are still at school, with many lit in moody dim lights, verging on darkness as they delve into exploratory dialogue and discuss their feelings for each other. Here they create a tentative and often slightly strained atmosphere, not knowing where there words will lead. When it all might be getting a bit much for them they cleverly break the tension for themselpves and us with a burst of Donna Summer disco fever. ‘Ooh it's so good, it's so good.’Movement sequences and physicality enhance other scenes throughout the production and lead to the denouement. Carefully chosen Biblical passages have peppered the play along with softly soothing Orthodox chants, but the ending comes in a dramatic twist which turns everything on its head, while invoking more of those scriptural verses. Be prepared to look back over what has transpired and reconsider it all.When Burstein and Dalrymple left the Conservatoire they wanted to create a company ‘dedicated to producing original multidisciplinary work involving physical theatre with text-devising at its core’. Passion fits that brief perfectly and stands as a testament to their remarkable talent and creativity.

The Queen’s Theatre, Hornchurch has opened its Spring 2023 season with the world premiere of Ian Rankin and Simon Reade’s Rebus: A Game Called Malice. John Michie plays retired detective John Rebus, who just happens to be a guest at a dinner party in a very posh house where a rather unfortunate incident occurs upstairs.The others present are played by Rebecca Charles, Billy Hartman, Emily Joyce, Forbes Masson and Emma Noakes. The meal is over, but the wine is still flowing. The hostess has devised a murder mystery game set in a comparable stately home. The guests have their information sheets and in snippets of conversation, amongst other postprandial small-talk, they consider what have been established as the key elements of any investigation: means; motive and opportunity. Rather irritatingly they consistently refer to it as playing charades, even though they have already said it bears no resemblance to that game. Back stories and antecedent trifles that expose elements of their lives fill the remainder of Act 1 and indeed much of what follows after the interval. If the game is in some way meant to inform the main story, it doesn’t and with nothing happening in respect of a real detective story let alone a murder mystery we are left waiting until the last line of Act 1 to be told that something has happened in the house. (No spoiler here, although it is tempting to say what it is if only to add some momentary excitement to a heretofore dull scenario.) We head to the bar for a much-needed livener in the hope that the case will get underway, the mystery will unfold and investigations can reveal all.However, the back stories now become increasingly complex and rather mind-boggling. In a novel, with time to take everything in and pour over the pages, they might prove comprehensible, but crammed into a short second act the flow is far too thick and fast to fully digest all the connections between people and events. Rebus takes control in classic detective fashion. He calls the police, but we never see them. On arrival he escorts them directly upstairs and he reports to the room what they are doing, which is less than gripping. As more secrets and past machinations are revealed the somewhat disappointing story of what happened is finally revealed, but it's certainly not a journey that has sent us ‘hurtling towards a gasp-inducing conclusion’ as promised.With performances that range from lack-lustre to annoying there is some comfort to be had in admiring the furnishings of the the drawing room, designed by Terry Parsons and lit by Matthew England. Even here, however, the tasteless excess of paintings over books, is questionable, even though they have a subplot of their own. The adaptation fails as a captivating story and with such flawed raw material, director Robin Lefevre leaves us sitting back wondering what on earth Rebus: A Game Called Malice is all about rather than on the edge of our seats filled with suspense.

Too many cooks, so the saying goes, can spoil the broth. If they also mess around with a reliable recipe that has been tried and tested, the end result might not be as good as the original. It is a fate suffered by Kim Davies’ Smoke at The Southwark Playhouse (Borough).Davies specifically describes a naturalistic setting for this intense work: ‘a dark kitchen, clean and neat, in a large apartment in New York City’. She goes on to say: ‘Loud music, chatter, and a little ‘mood’ lighting stream in through a half-open door that leads to the rest of the apartment, where a noisy, cheerful house party is underway. The kitchen has a large window leading out to a fire escape’. In other words it’s a classic tenement of the type that features in so many films set in the Big Apple.Compare that to Sami Fendall’s set. No doubt, it fits the design brief she was given, but it might be more at home in the Tate Modern. A black square frame delineates the ‘kitchen’. Within it the floor is covered in fine black sand, reminiscent of a volcanic beach in Lanzarote. Placed diagonally in on its side in the centre is a refrigerator, which, when opened later on spews dry ice. It doesn’t contain the fruit juice but does hide the knife, originally intended to be in a rucksack, and a goldfish swimming in a plastic bag of water.The party is attended by BDSM aficionados with varying levels of experience and a variety of specialist interests, but their activities are taking place in other rooms. The kitchen is a quiet space and chill area and has only two people in it. First to enter is John (Oli Higginson). From hereon the black sand takes on symbolic roles. He should take a cigarette, from missing backpack, open the window, which is not part of the set, and blow the smoke out before texting messages on the phone, which he also doesn't carry. Instead, the pouring of sand through the fingers and air becomes a symbol for these missing elements as it does for represent sexual organs and activities represented in arrangements on the side of the fridge.He is joined in the kitchen by Julie (Meaghan Martin), a privileged college dropout who has become fascinated by the prospect of exploring sadomasochism. In their tentative initial conversations it emerges that John is an intern in her wealthy father’s business. Bullied by him he lacks the courage to stand up to his unreasonable demands. That relationship highlights issues of power and control which adds to the tension in the fragile relationship John and Julie are developing. He is experienced on this scene; she naive. As they hesitantly try to ascertain each others interests, enquiry gives way to experimentation that challenges their levels of trust and consent. Things do not go well.Higginson and Martin gradually raise the stakes in the game of cat and mouse piling on the tension as the situation develops, having clearly established their characters. The abstract elements built into the production, however, detract from the reality and if the situation, which makes it more subdued and far less hard-hitting than might be expected.There is also the issue of how many people it takes to put on a seventy minute two-hander. To start, the play is co-directed by Júlia Levai and Polina Kalinina, with all the issues that raises. They are both experienced, but it’s hard not to imagine that greater clarity of vision would not have come from a single director. In addition they took on Intimacy Director: Asha Jennings-Grant and Dr. Kimberly Barker, a Creative Process Pyschology Consultant. Perhaps all these inputs and the multitudes of concerns these people explore explains how a degree of immediacy was lost in order to tread carefully.A cigarette appears at the end and a cloud of smoke rises, but it is perhaps too little too late to bring the play back into the real world.

A man is going through almost a lifetime’s accumulation of important junk in his attic. The clearout has been prompted by his recent divorce. As he moves a box he sees the instrument case that contains the French horn that defeated him thirty-nine years ago and which he never put to his lips again. Now he is consumed by distant memories, thoughts of missed opportunities and the question, “To play, or not to play?”I Found My Horn at the cosy White Bear Theatre (and excellent pub) is a delightful solo performance by Jonathan Guy Lewis (Jasper) who wrote the piece in conjunction with Jasper Rees on whose book of the same name it is based. The play has done the rounds, having premiered at the 2008 Aldeburgh Festival before going to the West End, New York and Los Angeles, such has been it’s success and appealOn the smallest of stages Designer Alex Marker has created a work of art that is immediately captivating and inviting. We’ve all known a space like this, with dust-sheets scattered over treasures that are not valued enough to be put on display, but to which we are too attached to throw away. A palette of pastel colours brighten the loft, the tones enhanced by Lighting Designer Chuma Emembolu who has also created some memorable moments. The teamwork and sensitive direction by Harry Burton is self-evident.The French horn, once removed from its case, takes on a life of its own. It was a acquired in the old Czechoslovakia and so, in a suitable accent Jasper converses with it. It’s one of many voices Lewis adopts to take us on a journey involving a summer camp in the USA, conductors, teachers and old friends with regional and idiosyncratic accents, including his teenage son who is full of adolescent attitude and a source of some amusement, as indeed are many of the others.Picking up his old hobby escalates to a new level when he attends the annual concert of the British Horn Society and takes advice on how to prepare himself for the following year’s concert at which he has boldly, and at this stage foolishly, promised to play Mozart's Horn Concerto No3; a piece he remembers from his childhood. To the accompaniment of some two dozen snippets of horn music we follow the ups and mostly downs of his literally embracing the horn again. Lewis’s delightful conversational manner is absorbing and engaging throughout. His tales are full of humour and there is the final joy of appreciating that he is also an accomplished horn player.I Found My Horn is a delightfully comforting and uplifting theatrical experience that leaves one’s head full of memorable tunes and the soul deeply rewarded by a fine performance.

A breath of theatrical fresh is often much needed at big fringe-style events and it can currently be found at the Vault Festival in A Manchester Anthem. This joyously uplifting solo show from Lyle Productions and ramblemill, performed in the Cage, is an unfettered outpouring of humour, storytelling and characterisation from beginning to end accompanied by flashing lights, pulsating sounds and a first-class high-energy performance.Although labelled as a ‘coming of age play’ that description does it little justice. This is no protracted journey of introverted, navel-gazing discovery, but rather an explosive and revelatory wild weekend in the life of a young man contemplating a life-changing opportunity. But will he take it? Writer Nick Dawkins has taken a simple storyline with a limited time span and packed it with events. This creates a pervading sense of immediacy and urgency within a tight transformative arc. Tommy (Tom Claxton) is a young working-class Mancunian. He lives with his mother. They rarely meet because his shifts as a barista rarely match hers as a nurse, but she leaves him notes and there is clearly a close bond between them. His father left him when he was six. They are rarely in touch, although he features in a scene towards the end. These are simply givens of the situation and never distract from the main thrust of Tommy’s decision-making process. A scholarship granted him a private school education; the start of a process of growth away from his roots, but that’s over now and Tommy is working his last shift before getting ready to take up a place at Oxford University. He will be the first person in his family to attend university, in fact the first in his whole street, but as he says, in a line typical of the play, “Oxford isn’t an interstellar journey away... it’s just south”. Nevertheless, it’s a giant step for him and this is his last weekend up north.Talking of which, at 6’2” (188cm) Claxton is used to taking big strides, which he needs to do, given the dimensions of the stage. On first sight it looks a potential disaster for a monologue. With audience on three sides and measuring 5.63m wide by 2.98m deep it’s a long way from one end to the other and a lone character seated in the middle would have difficulty in making contact with half the people. Amazingly, is seems perfectly suited to this play and Claxton’s proportions. He is able to relentlessly move about, dashing from one end to the other, stopping to create locations for various happenings, having meetings with his mates and dealing with others who feature in his roller coaster of encounters and events. It’s something of a work-out and director Charlie Norburn has used this demanding configuration to maximum effect, leaving never a dull moment and requiring us to follow Claxton wherever he goes. The night at the disco is a perfect example of this. Tommy’s ‘friends’ are there. Claxton has a voice for each and amusing descriptions of them, especially for some of the snobbier brigade who are also going up to Oxford. He locates them on different parts of the dance floor and proceeds to illustrate their different dance techniques and styles with his flexible figure consummately matching character to choreography. It’s not just a physical journey he’s on from place to place. More importantly, it’s an emotional expedition and a quest to find answers to the lingering doubts and suspicions that lurk in his mind. Events mount up as providing evidence Tommy must weigh up before he gets on that train to a new life. In so doing issues of social class loom large; matters of mobility that have nothing to do with physical fitness. Claxton draws us into that mental melting pot so that we go with go with him every step of the way.The nightclub with all its highs ends in a trivial but embarrassing event. He leaves and is thrust back into a world miles away from that set, where we meet more of the people who lives are unrelated to that crowd's privileged existence. Reality sinks in for Tommy and the road he’s travelled on this night’s wild journey finally takes him home. This time his mother is there.A Manchester Anthem, has punchy yet moving, well-structured writing from Dawkins and an outstanding performance from Claxton, who clearly enjoys every minute of this production, giving out assuring vibes that we are in safe hands. Importantly it also has a strong team behind it, from Producer Rebecca Lyle to the creatives: Set and Costume Designer Anna Niamh Gorman, Stage Manager Emily Darley, Lighting Designer Caelan Oran and Sound Designer Sam Baxter; the latter two really having their work cut out in this show with a host of unrelenting changes.Finally the show wouldn’t be complete without some pulsating House Music that goes with the title. No prizes for guessing N-Joi, Anthem. Tommy loves it! Join him in the grungy labrynth at Vault and ‘Feel the melody that's in the air’. Enjoy.

The ladies with their mugs of tea sitting outside a cottage with a fenced-off lawn would have grown up with the song In An English Country Garden, whose tune introduces George Savona’s production of Escaped Alone at the Questors Theatre. Stephen Souchon’s set creates a genteel and idyllic surround, but this is Caryl Churchill and it’s not long before the surface impressions are eroded. She specified that the ladies be septuagenarians. This gives them a wealth of memories to draw on and stories to tell and seemingly nothing else to do in life but to reflect upon and rake over the past while reminding each other of distant events and trying to establish if that’s really how things happened. It’s a fine opportunity for senior members at Questors to assume centre stage. Alexandra McDevitt, Christine Fox and Helen Walker respectively play Vi, Lena and Sally. They give the impression that these little gatherings are quite common. The topics have probably been gone over many times. As their minds wander the subject often changes abruptly, as a thought or event comes to mind. Each lady has her own main personal issue which is revealed in an interjected monologue heightened and cued by spotlights as part of the carefully constructed lighting design by Terry Mummary and Andrew Whadcoat and disturbing sounds effects by Russell Fleet. Despite issues ranging from feline phobia to a dreary existence in an office and an unfortunate incident in the kitchen with a carving knife which they carry with them, they are still able to return to everyday conversation as though nothing ever happened. For the most part it's rather bland chit-chat deliberately illustrating how banal most of life can be and how oblivious people are to what is really happening in the world and especially the prospect of an apocalyptic and dystopian futureThese latter themes are vividly explored by their friend Mrs Jarrett who entered through the garden gate and joined them at the outset. Karla Patrick participates in the ordinary talk but has the task of delivering Churchill’s chilling visions of a world in chaos. Her dead-pan face and cold delivery symbolise the impending doom that awaits the world unwilling to to make dramatic social and ecological changes, elements of which are already upon is. The vividly bizarre imagery of these passages that is to a large extent nonsensical, stands out in contrast to the words of everyday life in the women’s conversations. They are two worlds that don't meet yet are inextricably bound to each other. Then the gathering comes to end and Mrs Jarrett goes on her way. There is an interval while the stage is reset for What If If Only and we return to find Someone played by Tim Pemberton seated at table with a glass of wine, a magazine and an empty chair opposite. He addresses an absent partner who died at an early age. In a serenely composed performance his words form a pensive and quizzical lament and philosophical discourse on what was and what might have been, constantly posing the questions of “What if?” and “If only”, with which we are all so familiar. Karen Singer enters zephyr-like to hauntingly swirl around him as the symbol of Future, Futures and Present before being joined in the last minutes by Child Future, a role charred by Sophie Chen and Miren Curley. Escaped Alone and What If If Only are both well-executed productions that provide an excellent opportunity to see two of Churchill’s acclaimed works charmingly presented.

The debate surrounding refugees, migrants and asylum seekers has dominated the political scene both internationally and domestically for decades. It’s an issue that won’t go away, as one region after another becomes embroiled in the circumstances that cause people to leave their homes to seek a safer and brighter future in another land. At the end of the twentieth century the focus was on Kosovo. The war there officially ended in June of 1999 but the repercussions were still raging in the region long after. In 2002 an 11-year-old boy is sent packing by his father on the highly dangerous and harrowing journey to London as an unaccompanied asylum-seeker. That boy was Dritan Kastrati, co-writer, along with Nicola McCartney, of How Not to Drown and lead actor in the ThickSkin and Traverse Theatre Company ensemble production now at the Theatre Royal, Stratford East.Knowing that the man on stage is the boy who lived through and survived the events he relates makes the production all the more compelling. Kastrati went on to graduate from Frantic Assembly’s Ignition Company for whom director Neil Bettles has also worked and How Not to Drown bears the stamp of that company’s style from the outset. The wow factor that goes with the inevitable wealth of movement and physicality staged by Jonnie Riordanis accommodated on Becky Minto’s elevated diamond-shaped wooden stage whose slope points into the audience and subsequently stirs further action on its revolve. Add to this a remarkably impactful composition and sound design by Alexandra Faye Braithwaite and lighting by Zoe Spurr and we have overall stunning set of effects. Kastrati’s story permeates this sensory minefield, and the use of simple barricade props and other items creates various locations from Kosovo to London, via Albania, the Adriatic, Bari, Italy, Switzerland and Brussels and from storms at sea to queues at railways stations and the terrifyingly blacked-out and cramped interior of a freight container. There is daylight in England but a dark cloud hangs over the boy’s future in various foster homes and through multiple bullying experiences in different schools. He’d encountered smugglers, crooks and criminals, whores and hospitality, met up with his brother and been separated from him and now over several years goes on to bang his head against the brick wall of the social care system and the Home Office. He meets many kind or at least well-meaning people and faces separation from his family with fortitude and fights, anger and acceptance and the memories of the values he was taught by his father.Others in the ensemble, Ajjaz Awad, Esme Bayley, Daniel Cahill and Sam Reuben also play the boy as Kastrati himself changes roles. Together they take on an array of characters, seamlessly moving from one to the other in all the various locations and through the events. It's a slick production but perhaps one in which the medium triumphs over the message. There is something of an emotional ending as Kastrati, reunited with his family, finds that after so many formative years away he belongs nowhere, but it's not the dramatic tear-jerker that might have been anticipated.How Not to Drown offers a spectacular piece of theatre and personal insight into the plight of the most vulnerable, putting a face on those who seek a life that so many take for granted and who fall victim to the inadequacies of policies engineered by governments.

Described by its author as a ‘tragi-farce’, Edward Bond’s Have I None at the Golden Goose Theatre is a blunt dystopian nightmare packed into an energetically angry fifty-five minutes.Bond wrote the play in 2000 when, amongst other concerns, the turn of the millennium and its associated technological bug had recently threatened the end of life as we knew it. Was it a false fear or did all the precautions taken prevent it from happening? We'll probably never know. At the time, Bond, however, was looking further ahead to a future for which he believed the writing already to be on the wall. He leapt to 2077, without knowing that much of what he referenced might be taking hold even now.The country is faced with ecological disaster and economic chaos. The democratic ideal has ceased to have meaning as governments have become increasingly authoritarian and repressive. The past has been expunged from records and reference to it is prohibited. Old cities lie in ruins and the people have been resettled. Soldiers patrol the streets of deserted suburbs. The frenzied mass consumerism of a previous age has been replaced by standard-issue houses, furniture and food. Domestic family life struggles to survive in a world swept by waves of fleeing refugees and mass suicides.Director, Lewis Frost makes the room in which the action takes place a microcosm of the world outside. Living a spartan existence, we see just one room in the apartment where married couple Sara (Abigail Stone) and Jams (Brad Leigh) live. Furnishing consists of an old box and two upright chairs, of which they are obsessively possessive, each claiming one as thier property, and a small table. There is a door at which knocking is to be heard though no one is there, or the person has run away before it’s opened. The pair engage in extended rants and arguments; she in a state of despair, he in a mood of intransigence, befitting his job as a security guard. Then Grit (Paul Brayward) arrives and fuels the fire by claiming that Sara is his sister. He has travelled from the north and has a photograph of two children that should prove who he is and which brings memories to the fore for Sara. He presents a danger as photographs are illegal. Meanwhile two chairs for three people poses a problem of ownership and rights that fuels further arguments ensue.The cast give impassioned performances, although the interminable haranguing can be overwhelming at times, especially given that there is little substance to it. The running time is something of a relief; fears of an act two, after the abrupt ending to the play did not materialise.Bond’s plays make only intermittent appearances and this an excellent opportunity to see one staged. It’s very much a ‘make of it what you will’ event and the post-production showing of an interview with Bond makes little any clearer, but that is the nature of the man. Have I None is far from being amongst his greatest plays; this is no Saved, Lear or Narrow Road to the Deep North, but rather an exemplar of his mindset.

The National Theatre’s production of the The Lehman Trilogy has now opened at the spacious Gillian Lynne Theatre where it looks set for another sell-out season. If you are going, it’s worth clearing your head of the ultimate demise of Lehman Brothers in 2008, when the company made the largest ever Chapter 11 bankruptcy filing in U.S history with assets of over US$600 billion. That story is told, rather briefly, but you’ll have to wait over three hours to reach it.It’s one of many events in the play that are related largely as third person narrative. It’s a form that proves unrelenting and at times verges on the tedious, but it’s a device that’s at the heart of the writing by Stefano Massini and adapted by Ben Power. The story also progresses in chronological order, with the dates often being given of when things happen. Again, knowing when the big collapse occurred it’s hard not to look at the clock and think, “Have we only just reached the Civil War, the Emancipation Act, World War I, the Great Depression and so on?” The play is steeped in the passage of time and events spread over more than 170 years and they are fascinanting in themselves but, it’s primarily about a pioneering family who came to symbolise the American Dream and the individuals who fulfilled it. It all begins in 1844, when 23-year-old Hayum Lehmann leaves Rimpar in Bavaria to settle in the USA. Immigration officials couldn't get their tongues or throats around the pronunciation of the Jewish name, so he entered the country as Henry. He went to Montgomery, Alabama and opened "H. Lehman". In 1847 his brother Emanuel joined him and it became "H. Lehman and Bro." In 1850 the youngest of the three arrived and the name finally became "Lehman Brothers". They sold dry goods, but over the years they integrated themselves into the commerce of the region and ultimately the nation. In those early days the south equalled cotton and slavery. The Lehmans invented the idea of the ‘middle man’. At the time multiple plantations sold to numerous manufacturers. They saw a way to streamline the process; they would buy from all the producers and then from one company the textile industry could buy from them. En route the they made money from a simple buying and selling procedure. That they owned three male and four female slaves ranging in age from 5 to 50 in a state where 45% of the population consisted of slaves is not an issue the play concerns itself with. Indeed the morality of any of their actions is not the concern of the play; its simply reports on the millions it made from arms sales, their profits from war and reconstruction and the billions involved in the dubious subprime mortgage market that led to their downfall. Meanwhile the generations come and go and the mindset of the family becomes entrepreneurially that of the USA. The company moves into banking and the broader field of finance Interwoven between all the narrative from Michael Balogun, Hadley Fraser and Nigel Lindsay, are some often amusing and delightfully performed cameos. In addition to ‘being’ the brothers and the offspring that followed, they appear as immigration officials, wives, girlfriends, rabbis, other bankers, merchants and many others whose stories impact upon their lives. These performances are from men at the top of their game, entirely comfortable in a lengthy play which gives them no respite and is tightly held together by bold direction from Sam Mendes. The perspex office set by Es Devlin is a work of minimalist art, perched on the revolve that takes us from one location to another as the actors weave their way through doors. Behind it the vast, curved cyclorama defines locations and moods with stunning imagery from video designer Luke Halls that harmonises with lighting by Jon Clark and composition and sound design from Nick Powell. A delightful touch is the piano accompaniment, rather in the style of the silent movies, played by Yshani Perinpanayagam, that adds to the momentum of the piece.The Lehman Trilogy is a monumental piece of spectacular theatre in which everything is on the grand scale. Rather like the family, one suspects it will go down in the annals of history, though without an ultimate demise.

Although written in 2004 this production of The Elephant Song at The Park Theatre is the UK premiere of Canadian playwright Nicolas Billon’s captivating psychological thriller, of which a film adaptation was made in 2014.Michael (Gwithian Evans) is a patient in a psychiatric hospital of which Dr Greenberg (Jon Osbaldeston) is the director. His regular psychiatrist has mysteriously disappeared, but there are suspicions that Michael might have some knowledge of what has happened to him. Against the advice of Miss Peterson (Louise Faulker), the head nurse, who knows how cunning Michael can be, Dr Greenberg decides to question Michael. Wishing to get straight to the heart of the matter he chooses not to read Michael’s notes as this is not going to be a psychiatric consultation. This proves to be an error of judgment. Little does he know what he is letting himself in for.The classic period office, with a desk and chair, an important tall cupboard, a couple of soft armless lounge chairs and a coffee table, designed by Ian Nicholas, allows Director Jason Moore plenty of scope for movement. He makes the most of the space and furnishings which enable Michael to occupy various positions, places and levels, including sitting on the floor, that match his controlling strategies.Michael has the upper hand throughout the mind-games he plays with the insecure Greenberg. He knows the layout of the room and the locations of key items that will play a role in his various stories. In a gripping performance, Evans oozes intelligence and navigates a course full of twists and turns, suddenly embarking on a surprise new tack with calm yet resolute aplomb that leaves Dr Greenberg all at sea. Osbaldeston shows the effects of this in often floundering and nervous responses that suggest Greenberg is not really up to the job. He falls for the quid pro quo of favours Michael wants in return for information. He fears threats of a sexual scandal being revealed, not for the first time. He only manages to control the head nurse by virtue of his position but Faulker, in a slender role also knows how to stand up for herself and carries the air of one who knows rather more than the doctor would wish. Collectively they capture the all-round discomfort of the situation.As for the elephant, there is one in the room and another that features in a life-changing story that Michael tells, if it’s true, that is. In either case it’s part of the emotional journey Evans recounts with mesmerising conviction and magnetic charm, at the end of which, like the elephant, you might even shed a tear.

The need to willingly suspend disbelief in order to fully enter into the spirit of a play is sometimes an essential requirement if the potential for enjoyment is not to be lost altogether. In those circumstances, almost inevitably the ability to mentally abandon the desire for credibility over two acts ebbs and flow. Such is the case with Steven Moffat’s The Unfriend at the Criterion Theatre. What saves the day for this sitting-room comedy are the striking performances given by all members of the cast under the pacey direction of Mark Gattiss, once we are past the relaxed opening of conversations from sun-loungers on the deck of the cruise ship. This scene serves only as an introductory plot-setter in which the very Home-Counties Peter (Reece Shearsmith) and Debbie (Amanda Abbington), encounter Elsa Jean Krakowski (Frances Barber), the loudly eccentric, gushing elderly extravert from Denver, Colorado. In these last hours before the final disembarkation they politely promise to stay in touch, as people often do in such relaxed moments; usually in the hope and belief that nothing will come of it. This foolish gesture comes back to haunt them, however. Elsa is not one to miss an opportunity. Designer Robert Jones’ detailed suburban house is the setting for the rest of the play. Within these walls middle-class virtues abound. For our couple, being polite, doing the right thing, behaving with decency, demonstrating good manners and not causing offence are the tenets of their existence. All of which are put to the test when Elsa turns up on their doorstep. They had arranged for her to visit, but this was not the appointed time and an implausible set of circumstances in a far-fetched story are glossed over as her presence is accepted. She soon meets the two teenage children. Those are the offspring who were left behind in the house by themselves when their parents took to the high seas for a month. Likely? No; despite their clearly being strained relations between them. Elsa adores them and they fall for her. Miraculously and with no evidence for how a change of heart occurred, by Act II the kids are suddenly enamoured of their parents and devoted to them all thanks to Elsa’s unwitnessed influence.These issues are minor, however compared to the alleged truth about Elsa that a Google search reveals. It seems that although never having faced trial and therefore unconvicted, there is a wealth of evidence to suggest that she is a serial murderer; her poisoning antics and the mysterious deaths of family members being common knowledge back home. Of course, had the law taken its course and the local police done their job we wouldn’t have a play, so it’s easily glossed over. If her hosts lived in the real world they would also kick her out immediately in order to protect themselves, their children and the neighbours. That however, would require them to actually confront her with the evidence; an act they deem too rude, impolite and inhospitable. Hence they continue to tolerate her presence and weave a tangled web of stories trying to explain their impossible position. If the plot is lacking the performances are not. Barber boldly and loudly dominates every scene in which she appears, Witty, throw-away lines pepper her tale as she increasingly takes over control of the house. Shearsmith and Abbington maintain a level of fraught panic packed with humour as they lurch from one episode to another in dealing with the situation they have created. Adding to their woes, Michael Simkins as The Neighbour as his own moments of delivering mirth as he obsesses about the video he has taken revealing problems with the garden wall. Gabriel Howell is an absolute joy as the son, Alex, stealing numerous moments with withering looks and spot-on timing, while Maddie Holliday as daughter, Rosie, exudes an air of comic exasperation when confronted with the behaviour of her parents. In contrast there is the quite unnecessary inclusion of PC Junkin in the proceedings, admirably played by Marcus Onilude, who draws the short straw of being the focus of a highly distasteful lavatorial scene which could be done without.A groan-worthy ending seems to fit the bill for what amounts to a fun, if flawed, comedy.

There are time when you wonder, “Why?” Lazarus Theatre Company’s Hamlet at the Southwark Playhouse, Borough, is one of those. Why does one of the Bard’s greatest, most thrilling plays, full of grand speeches and lyrical poetry have some of it’s main characters removed and be hacked to pieces so that only a partial story remains, then to be rushed through to fit a hundred minute slot? The company has a rational behind this carnage, so in fairness let’s give them the first word.Their aim is to ‘embark on a new and radical transformation (that)... will champion exciting young talent, many making their debuts, in this raucous rendition… Thrown into an urban community of lost teenagers’. Furthermore, ‘This classic tale, with its violent twists of physical and mental intensity, archaic script and intricate personalities, is reworked into a strikingly unpredictable, visceral and contemporary show’. It also comes with the assurance that, ‘For audiences who think they know Hamlet, this cast of young talent will inject an enticing, raw, and gutsy interpretation into one of the most iconic Shakespeare plays, revitalising the suspense and shock of the Elizabethan tragedy and offering an all-new experience of Hamlet. All of this sounds thrilling and inviting. Elements of it are also indisputable. Lazarus Theatre Company is committed to ensemble work and a collaborative approach to creating radical reinterpretations of classical works. Those elements are evident from the outset. The obviously young cast (they are probably all in their early twenties) gather in a circle on blue plastic chairs. Reluctantly the first actor takes the mic from the stand, introduces himself nad the part he plays and adds a line of verse. He passes the mic to the next person, who repeats the format until everyone is introduced. This, along with the rest of the play, is also live-streamed onto a large TV screen stage left for us to view. Three other screens will be used for effects later on. This prologue features in a truncated form at the of the play. In both cases It’s an interesting exercise but hardly essential to the production or furtherance of the plot.As this is a version of Hamlet for ‘young talent’, all older characters have been expunged from the performance, which creates some storytelling difficulties and eliminates some key scenes, which are covered only by implication from what remains of the text. In these circumstances Sam Morris as Laertes nevertheless does a commendable job lamenting the death and defending the reputation of his unseen father, Polonius, who has been removed from the dramatis personae. Michael Hawkey, in his professional debut, similarly copes well with an absent mother and father-in-law uncle. Despite being orphaned, his Hamlet dominates this production, with perhaps more lines than the rest of the cast put together. He seems always to be on stage, often charging around like a man possessed, making quick-fire exits and entrances and rattling off lines at the pace of a Gatling gun. Some of the lines land but many are lost in the heat of delivery along with any sense of poetry and verse form. As per the above promise, however, his perfromance is certainly ‘raw, and gutsy’. Much is made of the scenes on the ramparts of Elsinore (if that’s where we are), with Bernardo, now Barnarda, (Kiera Murray), Marcellus (Juan Hernandez) and the ghost who appears in a black cloak and helmet akin to Darth Veda. This add to the darkness of the night, necessitating the predictable, hand-held torches that beam light into the scene and illuminate the characters. Similar prominence is given to the band of players and The Mousetrap, perhaps because these can all be youngsters. Kalifa Taylor recites eloquently in leading this troupe and is an example of how when given the chance to show their talents individuals do well. In between these major scenes are snippets from other parts of the play and various speeches. Alex Zur has a commanding presence and clarity of voice. It would have been a joy to hear more from him as Horatio, but he fell victim to cuts. Director Ricky Dukes created a delightful scene of potted plants, flowers and herbs for Lexine Lee, also making her professional debut, to distribute to characters around the stage in her well-delivered Ophelia speech. Thereafter we have a hand-held camera pursuing her through the corridors backstage, or wherever, to her demise, relayed on the big screen. This was then played back in reverse before the cast reassembled to conclude the play. Make of that what you will.It as certainly an ‘all-new experience’, but it’s hard to see how this treatment in any way makes it more ‘contemporary’. There is arguably far less ‘suspense and shock’ in this version than is found in the original, which is a pity given the talent Lazarus Theatre Company possesses.

Scheduled over twelve rounds, On the Ropes at the Park Theatre goes from 7.30 to around 10pm in a protracted telling of Vernon Vanriel’s life story. It’s hard not to keep looking at he illuminated sign to see just how many rounds (scenes) are left before the event can be wrapped up.On paper, Vanriel’s life story is gripping, but this stage adaptation is wide of the mark in its failure to focus on the most important and universal aspects of what happened to him. Perhaps because Vanriel co-wrote it with sporting playwright Dougie Blaxland the piece has ended up as a chronological narrative that seems anxious to leave nothing out. Interspersed between the numerous boxing matches, domestic events and dealings with promoters is a top twenty (I lost count) of blues and reggae songs spanning his life. Fans of those genres, and many who grew up at the same time as Vanrie, clearly relished this aspect of the play; some joined in, clapped or gyrated in their seats.Vanriel came to Britain aged six with his family as part of the Windrush Generation. Despite early protestations from his mother he found fulfilment at the local boxing gym and went on to become one of the UK’s most charismatic and influential black British boxers of the 70s and 80s. He had everything going for him until in 2005, having lived in North London for 43 years, he made a return trip to Jamaica. He stayed there for just over two years. without realising that the time span was in violation of the terms of his ‘indefinite leave to remain’ in the UK. He was now trapped. Drugs took over his life. He became destitute, with nowhere to live, no money and no access to the medical care he need for his heart condition.We don’t arrive at this tragic and appalling part of the story until we are into Act II, when Vanriel faces the biggest fight of his life. He spends thirteen years battling against the UK government and its impossible bureaucracy. It’s not until a powerfully emotional speech by local MP David Lammy that his case comes to public attention and the Home Office begins to recognise the impossibility of his position and that of many others. Then, in December 2021 he wins a historic High Court victory over the British Government when Mr Justice Bourne rules that the Home Office had acted illegally in denying his right to British Citizenship.The sense of despair in telling this part of the story is palpable. Mensah Bediako, though looking outside the weight category for Vanriel, has a boxer's build and vividly illustrates the the dramatic changes that overcame the boxer at the height of his career and the man ultimately being reduced to a physical and emotional wreck. All other characters are played by Amber James and Ashley D Gayle who convincingly become, family members, boxing promoters, judges and officials, ducking and diving there way in and out of the boxing ring set. Zahra Mansouri’s design is predictable for a play such as this and a performance in the round. That it symbolically splits into four sections as Vanriel’s life is torn apart is a clever idea but one that in practice makes for some unwieldy manouevrings. Nevertheless Anastasia Osei-Kuffour’s direction is imaginative and does all it can to instil pace, energy and excitement into the text.On the Ropes has the potential to be reworked as a far punchier, abbreviated drama, that remains rooted in Vanriel’s life but more fully explores the issues that dominated the years following his demise as a boxer.

Westcliff High School for Boys’ drama club under the direction of Ben Jeffreys, who otherwise teaches history, first came to our atttention at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in 2017 when students performed a devised piece, Waiting for Offsted. It cleverly captured the essence of Beckett and successfully translated his style and imagery into a new context. Five years later, three of the highly talented boys, who at that time were in years 7 and 8, are now in years 12 and 13 and with the same director feature in the school edition of Sondheim’s Sweeney Todd - The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.Jacob Guyler gives a commanding performance as Todd. He captures the man who is overcome with revenge and filled with sinister and villainous intentions to all around him when he becomes frustrated in his cause, but also reaveals Todd's humanity in the love and loss he experiences for his wife and daughter. He carries those contrasts through to the songs with a voice that matches the demands of the role. Archie Hepburn now has an imressive baritone voice that highlights the gravitas he brings to the role of Judge Turpin in a highly dignified peformance. Finally from that group, Benjamin Dixon appropriately plays second fiddle to the Judge whose dirty work he he does with grovelling allegiance, whilst swaggering around full self importance.These lads have risen through the ranks but many others have joined with them since 2017 and there are fine performances elsewhere. Dexter Legon, who looks as though he is on his way to play a pantomime dame, has an element of that in his captivating portrayal of the pie-shop owner Mrs.Lovett. Indifferent to the fate of Todd’s customers Legon nonchalantly displays Lovett’s business mind and sets about contemplating the variations of pies to be made from different classes of gentlemen without even a wobble on his court shoes.Years before these events Todd had been wrongfully convicted by Turpin and sent to a penal colony. His return to London was achieved with the help of a youthful sailor, Anthony Hope played by Rafael Gamma. Mrs Lovett tells Todd that his wife committed suicide but that his daughter was made a ward of court and lives with Judge Turpin. Hope is used in the plot to regain her and so Gamma, full of innocence and dreamy ambitions fills the lovesick role admirably once he sets eyes on Johanna Barker, Todd’s daughter. Peggy Jefferson joins the boys to beautifully cover this soprano role.This nasty tale is not without humour. Lewis Seal makes the most of playing rival barber and charlatan, the flamboyant Italian Adolpho Pirelli, with delightful eccentricity. He is very quickly disposed of and his poor young apprentice, Tobias Ragg, finds a home with Mrs Lovett. Gabriel Williams brings remarkable depth and intensity to this role that becomes pivotal to the story. Meanwhile Crystal Rosher-Smith has been popping up all over the place as the Beggar Woman, making something really amusing out of this slight part.A chorus of thirteen appears in various crowd scenes in a variety of costumes adding a sense of street life and location. As with the main characters they have a range of abilities as would be expected in a production covering boys of all ages. Not all the voices in the show are necessarily outstanding, but it is the spirit and conviction they create that stands out. Their conbined effect is to put on a gripping show that reaches to the heart of Sondheim.The musical is performed in the round; a black box created by the curtained walls of the library. It was always Sondheim's intention that his work be performed in a small, dark theatre that might induce fear and terror into the hearts of the audience and that is precisely what Jeffreys has done.

Being dead, the great maestro of late baroque composition has the hope of being raised incorruptible. However, Handel’s Messiah: The Live Experience illustrates how his extant work is only too susceptible to mortal corruption.If it were possible to isolate the performance of the great oratorio from all the nonsense that surrounds it in this senseless production we would hear a fairly standard interpretation of the work. Those looking forward to this might well close their eyes to avoid being distracted, but even then there would be issues. The Theatre Royal is a spectacular building but it is not designed for works such as this. Lacking the acoustics of a fine church or purpose-built concert venue, or indeed the Coliseum, the London Symphony Chorus were deadened by their location on the rear half of the stage. They were certainly audible but the quality of the sound went upwards to be lost in the flies and outwards to hit the proscenium. The English Chamber Orchestra, being further forward, however, were in fine form with enough body to support the big chorus numbers and sufficient restraint to accompany the subtlety mic’d soloists. Tenor Nicky Spence, with a welcoming smile, sang the opening Comfort ye my people with tenderness and passion. He sustained that warmth throughout, announcing that the iniquities of God’s people would be pardoned, which is more than can be said for the abominations perpetrated by those responsible for this production. Cody Quattlebaum cut a dash as he entered with his naturals curls flowing to a length beyond the wildest dreams of a Restoration wig-maker. Complete with boots, breeches and a black frock coat, images of the voice of one crying in the wilderness came to mind, although he exhibited a presence akin to musketeer. His rich bass provided bold renditions of the often fiery solos Handle gave to this voice, leaving us to believe that darkness might well cover the earth and that the trumpet shall sound. Mezzo Iddunu Münch similarity rose to the occasion, her smooth tones imparting the sincerity of a prophetess as she announced with a air of mystery, Behold, a virgin shall conceive and with the stated sorrow and grief proclaimed He was despised and rejected of men.Danielle de Niese, however seemed to be carried away with creating something on a grander, more operatic scale which culminated in her florid, overly-embellished, rendition of I know that my Redeemer liveth. While her credentials as a soprano are beyond doubt this rendition sounded as staggeringly out of place as her outfits appeared. Quite why she needed so many changes of costume remains a mystery on a par with the choice of a see-through dress with silver tinsel-like designs and black under garments and a gold outfit with what looked like a flat Christmas-tree star decoration reaching beyond the sides of her head, which had it spun might have lifted her into the rafters.Handel’s Messiah: The Live Experience is the first event to be created by Classical Everywhere, a new venture from Immersive Everywhere, the multi-award-winning creators of events such as Peaky Blinders: The Rise, The Great Gatsby and Doctor Who: Time Fracture. Their ‘vision is to bring together the world’s greatest classical musicians and music with outstanding venues and creative and imaginative staging. The aim is to enhance the narrative and emotional power of the music to create an evocative, exhilarating, and entertaining classical experience that will appeal to ever wider audiences’. Judging by this hotch-potch of artistic endeavours the effect of their efforts might be just the opposite.Throughout the production a floor to ceiling rectangular portrait LED appears like a giant screen-saver, splitting the choir in two. The opening image of the sun with its erupting surface persists in various forms for some time. Other scenes suggest Dalian landscapes until it all becomes just a series of flashing and melding abstracts. As an installation in the Tate Modern it would be fascinating and worthy of praise for its creators flora&faunavisions GmbH. In this context it proved to be an irritating distraction. A trio of dancers fell into the same category. Dan Baines, Jemima Brown and Sera Maehara performed in front of the orchestra, their bodies merging against a backdrop of instruments and music stands. Again, as a dance production, at say Sadlers Wells, it might have proved fascinating, although the choreography of Tom Jackson Greaves could have been applied to any number of contexts. Meanwhile, the flamboyantly arm-waving Gregory Batsleer, Artistic Director of Classical Everywhere and conductor at times seemed as though he were part of their performance.The final element woven into this very disappointing, over-hyped, multi-media theatrical miscellany came in the form of specially commissioned poems on the theme of Mother and Child. These may or may not merit close attention but on a first hearing, recited by Arthur Darvill and Martina Laird with the words on paper in their hands, they came over as pretentious, irrelevant and an excuse for some parading around in bizarre costumes better suited to Game of Thrones.A few entrances through the auditorium hardly counts as an immersive production and quite why Messiah needs this treatment remains a mystery; it certainly doesn’t make it any more accessible, even if the premise of its being inaccessible were to be accepted. As Beethoven observed, Händel is the unattained master of all masters. Go and learn from him how to achieve vast effects with simple means. Perhaps Director, Neil Connolly could take a leaf from his book.

The creative team behind Wickies: The Vanishing Men of Eilean Mor at the Park Theatre have done an outstanding job on this production. Director Shilpa T-Hyland has directed the cast with precision and imagination and they have responded well. Unfortunately, even the combined skills and talents of this well-matched team are not enough to overcome the weaknesses in Paul Morrissey’s protracted script.The tale sounds full of promise. It’s based on the true story of James Ducat (Ewan Stewart), Thomas Marshall (Jamie Quinn) and Donald MacArthur (Graeme Dalling), so these events actually happened, or at least the starting point did. There are no spoilers in what follows, partly because there are no thrilling, revelatory moments that might be inadvertently given away, and mostly because this synopsis is already in the public domain. So here we go.On 26th December 1900, a small ship made its way to the Flannan Islands in the far reaches of the Outer Hebrides. Its destination was the lighthouse on Eilean Mor, a remote island that was completely uninhabited apart from the aforementioned wickies: men who maintained the mariners’ beacon. When the ship arrived on the island, the lighthouse was unlocked and two of three oil-skinned coats belonging to the men were missing. The fire was out and had been for some days. The kitchen area had half-eaten food. The chairs were overturned, and the clock had stopped. Crucially, the lighthouse lamp was extinguished and the three men responsible for its upkeep had vanished.What had happened? That is the historical mystery that has never been solved. Hence, everything that takes place on stage is speculation, except for the interspersed narrations of the inspectors’ report, which came to no convincing conclusion. Hence, after two hours we are no further forward than we were at the beginning. En route to that destination, we’ve heard some anecdotes about the history of the lighthouse, another mystery concerning the first wickies and some background to the men who vanished. Much of this raises more questions than it answers. Each member of the cast does a good job of delivering this narrative as the three wickies and of doubling up as the team of investigators. They delineate three contrasting individuals, but question marks remain about their characters which go beyond matters of performance. Stewart is entirely credible as Ducat, the man who has devoted his life to the lighthouse and has been its principal keeper, except for the first year or so of its existence. Events from that period still occupy his mind and he gives the feeling of a man trying to atone for something in which he may have played no damaging part. The tragedy of that time is known by MacArthur who against the advice of Ducat relates it to the rookie, Marshall, formerly a fisherman. It’s part of the ongoing process he engages in of frightening the naive novice. His story takes us into the realms of ghosts and hauntings which prove unnerving for the young lad who has left behind his wife and two small children. Quite why he abandoned them is unclear and indeed Quinn’s portrayal of the man suggests nothing of the hardened type to whom the job might appeal. Was this perhaps how Ducat started out, who also left his beloved children and wife. In contrast, Dalling is every bit the bitter, angry man who wallows in isolation and who has probably done society a favour by placing himself out of harm’s way. Breaking up this heavy scene are some very witty exchanges and some moments of general laughter, often thanks to the intonation and timing of the lines. Throughout the play we have the joy of seeing the wonderfull ‘brick’ walls of the lighthouse, the windows, the exterior upper walkway and the spiral steps that hang ominously over the table, courtesy of designer design Zoe Hurwitz. It’s a triumph. The same can also be said for the lighting design by Bethany Gupwell, the sound design by Nik Paget-Tomlinson, the music by Niall Bailey and the illusion design by John Bulleid. Their creativity goes beyond the supportive to create chilling and sometimes frightening moments that accentuaute the storyline and the bleak atmosphere and spooky air that haunts the building and dominates throughout. The talent and imagination of the creatives shines throughout.It’s a pity that the scope for filling out this tale is so limited, that the other tales are hardly gripping and that so much is just repetitivevly about the plight of the wickies.

Two main strands run through Keeper of the Flame, written and performed by Rob Adams, a play that fits neatly into the confines of the delightful Bridge House Theatre. It is primarily a football story; the tale of George Gilbert, a fictional goalkeeper whose politics are left-wing; his rise from obscurity in south London to the dizzy heights of being headhunted by Huddersfield Town.He moves on to greater glory on the international circuit, where he might have remained had he not also been a social activist living through the interwar years. However, his ideological beliefs and willingness to take part in protests conflict with the neutrality desired by club managers. His personal life is forced to weave its troubled way through the demands of the game and his passionate commitment to social justice.In England, it is the period of Oswald Mosley and his Black Shirts. Anti-Semitism is rife and the rise of Facism seemingly unstoppable as even those in the media owned by hard-line anti-communist Viscount Rothermere champion right-wing causes. All of this is anathema to Gilbert. Meanwhile, Europe is dominated by the Viscounts friends, Hitler and Mussolini, and the presence of the latter at one of his games and the salutes he sees send shivers down his spine.Footballers at the time were supposed to keep their heads down both on and off the pitch, but Gilbert is not prepared to sacrifice his idealism. He becomes embroiled in the Battle of Cable Street where he stands behind the barricades opposing the march of the British Union of Fascists, after which his untenable position makes him leave for a new life in Spain.The ancient maxim he had been taught as a youngster never leaves him: “When we dream no longer, then we die”. Death is what he now faces, as is revealed in the opening scene, as he stands defiantly in front of a firing squad.Adams vividly captures the youthful enthusiasm of Gilbert, whose ability to catch a ball was recognised by his parents in his infancy and by football clubs later on. He physically portrays many goal-saving moments and anxious times on the pitch, which is one side of the story. He also embodies the passion of a man who cannot separate himself from the causes of the day and reveals how his private and personal life become inextricably bound up in both. In so doing he introduces us to a range of characters each of whom is brought to life by a distinctive voice and various mannerisms.The empty stage gives Director Michael Mulqueen all the space necessary for his carefully devised movements and the settings are created by a mixture of evocative sound and lighting courtesy of Grant Leslie and Ezra Mortimer.Keeper of the Flame, although set in a historical context is, nevertheless, a story that resonates with our own time.

Kae Tempest’s credentials as a poet and lyricist shine through in Wasted at the Jack Studio. This is a very impressive first outing for MICA Theatre, a new company whose initials stand for Matters I Care About. Combined with sensitive direction from Toby Clarke they show considerable maturity in handling the text that needs to be delivered with skill as it moves between chorus-like verse and naturalism. Tony (Ruaridh Mollica) sits at the rear of the stage, his guitar leaning against the wall. He’s clearly very attached to it. He touches it fondly as the light shining across his body casts a shadow to his left, over which he runs his hands. His fingers turn to the lead that he places on the speaker, then to a string. It’s all done with considerable feeling and an air of mystery against a background of haunting sounds. Will he pick up the guitar and break into song? That’s what he used to do. That is what his life revolved around; that and the drug-fuelled party scene; but now he’s dead, and all that is behind him. His mates have gathered to commemorate his passing and over the course of two days they reflect upon their past, the times they spent with Tony and consider what the future might hold for them. Meanwhile Mollica hauntingly moces around the action, sometimes with interjections before beautifully delivering his closing toughts that send us on out journey.They’re in their mid 20’s now and while they still manage to party on a fairly grand scale, the questioning about how they live their lives, what they want from life and what they might become has started. Reality is beginning to hit home and brings with it a certain amount of turmoil. We are allowed in to observe their world after an opening direct address that questions what we are doing there, suggesting that it might just be a waste of our time. It turns out not to be, for by entering into their lives we are able to reflect upon our own and ask ourselves the questions they are contemplating.Danny (Ted Reilly) is the one furthest down the path to hell and he is riddled with the good intentions that got him there. Reilly captivatingly portrays the angst of a young man who is always going to change, reform, become a better person and give up all the bad habits he has developed over the years, including a lack of honesty in dealing with people. Those things always seem to be happening tomorrow; for now he’ll just pop another pill or snort another line. This leaves girlfriend Charlotte (Isabella Verrico) endlessly frustrated. Verrico captures her turmoil and frustration. Is Danny worth working for, sacrificing for or will she ultimately have wasted her time? And what of her work, her career? Where should that go? Can she face ending up like all the ageing, moaning and depressed colleagues who fill the staffroom? Is she capable of going through with a big decision that could change her life and give her a new future? Meanwhile, Temi (Seraphina Beh) is somewhere between the two. Beh gives a powerfully imposing performance as the confidante who is not afraid to dish out the truth and come up with advice. She’s almost respectably settled. She reluctantly goes to IKEA with her girlfriend, because it will make her partner happy and she has dreams of a business, but is still prepared to join Danny on a bender.Wasted is a bold, forthright and challenging production has excellent chemistry between the cast members and credibility in all they say. Lighting Designer Pablo Fernandez Baz produces some buzzing disco moments contrasted with moody darker tones for the more reflective scenes and Composer Rupert Cross matches the sound admirably. The team and Stage Manager TJ Roderick put the staging and costumes together and manage the drum set which has a fascinating journey of its own around the stage as it is taken apart, reconstructed, used as a table and even played.Wasted premiered eleven years ago when later millennials were hitting the scene and it’s very much of that time. By now they have grown up and a sequel to this play would prove fascinating. That generation has largely settled into careers and family life far removed from the wild excesses in which they formerly indulged. The questions our characters asked and the issues they faced, however, are relatively timeless, making Wasted a play that will always hold a degree of fascination and relevance.

There’s a delightful anecdote about George Bernard Shaw at one of the early performances of Arms and the Man. Amidst tumultuous applause, he was brought onto the stage. A lone voice booed him. Shaw turned to the man and said, "My dear fellow, I quite agree with you, but what are we two against so many?" This riposte gives an insight into the man’s wit, sense of humour and desire to embrace all people. There was no such dissent at the Orange Tree Theatre, Richmond, where the play is running until mid January, just a similarly rapturous reception for Paul Miller’s final production as the theatre’s Artistic Director. Miller, as a leading exponent of Shaw, boldly takes on the play, stretching its comedy to the limits whilst retaining its emotional integrity. This is his sixth Shaw play at the theatre, so he knows the man very well and has developed the ability to reach into the heart of the man and the depths of his works. The play was first performed in April 1894. Shaw was aged 38, making it one of his earliest plays. It was an immediate success and has remained so ever since. George Orwell regarded it as ‘probably the wittiest play he ever wrote, the most flawless technically, and in spite of being a very light comedy, the most telling’. It’s set during the Serbo-Bulgarian War (November 1885 to March 1886). and although a period piece there is nothing dated about it. Rather, it is an early example of the later British tradition of situation comedy with melodrama used to accentuate its critique of the folly of war and the foolishness of those who engage in it. It also highlights the absurdities of social stratification and illustrates the nature of human frailty, pretence and hypocrisy, particularly where romance is concerned.It is around these themes that the story is woven. The beautiful Raina (Rebecca Collingwood) enjoys a privileged life as the daughter of Major Petkoff (Jonathan Tafler) and his wife Catherine (Miranda Foster). She is in love with Sergius (Alex Bhat), the swashbuckling hero of the Bulgarian army whose victory in the Battle of Slivnitsa decided the war’s outcome, though not without some controversy regarding his tactics. Here Shaw puts in one of his digs at the whole military business: “I won the battle the wrong way when our worthy Russian generals were losing it the right way”. Bhat’s performance and stature make comparisons with John Cleese inevitable and he's just as funny. His triumph somewhat diminished, upon his return, Sergius has other battles to win. As Lysander said, “The course of true love never did run smooth”. While he was away Raina encountered Bluntschli (Alex Waldmann) a charming major and mercenary who sought refuge in her house. Waldmann brilliantly captures the idealism and cynicism of the man and with the seductive presence he gives to Bluntschli it is no wonder he ignites a flame in her. Meanwhile, downstairs, the dutiful manservant Nicola (Jonah Russell) has designs on the feisty yet very attractive maid Louka, (Kemi Awoderu) to whom Sergius is also attracted, despite his upstairs situation. Russell captures the traditional subservient and dutiful essence of his position which he stoutly defends against the rebellious and challenging socialism that Awoderu delivers with passion. Leave it to Shaw to give his women powerful roles and the intellect and ability to assert themselves.Comical situations arise, worthy of a classic Whitehall farce, and the spot-on delivery of lines with impeccable timing by all the cast makes for some hilarious moments that provoke outbursts of laughter in response to the most brilliantly devised humour. Foster frantically manages the surprise return of Bluntschli in a classic front door entrance and backdoor exit, while Tafler delivers the most amusing elderly bafflement concerning his disappearing overcoat and the mystery of the photograph to which we know the answers. Staged in the round, Miller, from years of experience, knows how to manage this space. He assigns skilled manoeuvres to the cast, dare one say with military precision, that ensures the flow of movement and that no side of the audience is left out of the action.Much of this is facilitated by Simon Daw’s set design, which changes for each of the three acts as the play moves around the house. Between the bed and the dresser there is ample space for Collingwood to excitedly run around during Raina’s conversations with her mother and Bluntschli. Other sets similarly accommodate action and, of course, Petkoff has his favourite chair in which to sit. Working with Deputy Stage Manager Julia Crammer and Assistant Stage Manager Jamie Craker the team has created some authentic touches. The large icon on the bedroom wall provides the religious context and the library, to which the family make repeated reference as a symbol of their wealth, learning and status, is revealed as a bookcase, but with the attention to detail of all the spines having been overwritten with titles in Cyrillic. All of this is sensitively lit by Lighting Designer Mark Doubleday with Sound Designer & Composer Elizabeth Purnell adding classical music and effects to enhance the mood and remind us of the battles raging in the streets.The obscure Serbo-Bulgarian War might be distant but the social situations it created must surely live on today in Ukraine, bringing this work into our own age. The values that Shaw promotes and the observations he made are also as valid now as when he scripted the play. Sergius explains, “Soldiering, my dear madam, is the coward's art of attacking mercilessly when you are strong, and keeping out of harm's way when you are weak. That is the whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal terms”. And as Raina points out, when the war is over, “What glory is there in killing wretched fugitives?”The play has nothing to do with Christmas, but in the season of pantomimes it's a production that is by no means out of place. Congratulations to all concerned for dusting down this play and bringing it to life as a brilliant and joyous gift for all lovers of theatre.

The fabulous Mill at Sonning has revived last year’s Christmas success for another run over the festive season, It’s hard to believe that a full-scale musical like Top Hat, with so many big dance routines, could fit onto the theatre’s admittedly broad stage. But fit it does and also provides the added bonus of close-up views of the footwork which would be denied in any big West End venue.A lavish Art-Deco design in pastel green, pink, cream and gold spreads across the stage and to both sides of it. This work of art by Set Designer Jason Denvir identifies the period and creates the mood for this step back in time. It’s simple but clever. The drop-down bed makes for scene changes that are rapid and smooth and the attention to detail on such things as the elevator door with the luminous floor indicator is a delight. Lighting Designer Nic Farman really goes to town with the colours that flood the stage for some of the big numbers and his polka-dot effect is particularly impressive. Having a character in the show who is a dress designer gives added opportunities to create stunningly beautiful costumes that further establish that we are back in the 1930s. Costume Designer Natalie Titchener has blended a palette and styles to sumptuous effect.The love story of Top Hat revolves around a simple case of mistaken identity which in the real world would have been resolved quickly and easily. Here it is somewhat tediously drawn out, but it does provide material for a spectacular musical. Jonny Labey dominates the show. His silky-smooth voice sounds very much of the Hollywood period and he gives a sensational display of dance routines of which the tap numbers inevitably stand out. His Jerry Travers is charming, endearing and full of confidence combined with a hint of cheekiness that will offend no one once he gives that seductive smile. He falls madly in love with Dale Tremont who thinks Jerry is actually another character, Horace Hardwick (Paul Kemble), a much older married man. Billie-Kay has the challenge of making Tremont’s confusion seem plausible, which she does with competence. Less appealing is her aura of detachment and seeming lack of chemistry with Labey and a few tuning issues. She looks spectacular, however, as she dances her way through a series of beautifully designed costumes.Kemble forms the husband and wife duo with Julia J Nagl. He is long-suffering and Madge is domineeringly cynical about the relationship. Between them they generate some of the show’s comic highlights, challenged only by Brendan Cull as Bates, the dutiful manservant forever changing costumes and voices to provide disguises to cover his investigatory activities. Also on the eccentric end of the scale is Andy Rees, doing one of those stereotypical takes on the proud dress designer Beddini, with wavering Italian accents and over-the-top actions; but it gets laughs.The ensemble features Hannah Amin, Joe Boyle, George Deller, Nathan Elwick, Gabriela Gregorian, Leah Harris, Reece Kerridge and Greta McKinnon. Their contribution to the success of this show is enormous. They accomplish slick scene changes, of which there are many, back and forth, but above all provide a richly balanced chorus of voices and become a finely honed troupe of dancers under the brilliantly devised choreography of Ashley Nottingham. Credit also to Musical Director and Arranger Francis Goodhand for sustaining the pace of the show and creating a big-band sound from two floors above the stage.Director Jonathan O’Boyle work is an excellent job done in recreating the glamour of Hollywood’s golden age, the magic of Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers and the memorable songs of Irving Berlin.

Clive Judd’s fascinating debut play HERE won the 2022 Papatango New Writing Prize from a record 1,553 submissions. It’s now receiving its premiere at Southwark Playhouse.There is a mysterious simplicity and haunting presence that pervades this play. “There’s somethin’ about this house. Somethin’ here. Somethin’ in the walls. Its bones. Like DNA.”The mood is set by the inspired direction of George Turvey, who shields all the action and characters within a white gauze cube, courtesy of Designer Jasmine Swan, through which we must look to see the interactions of four members of a family. The atmosphere is enhanced by effects from Composer and Sound Designer Asaf Zohar and Lighting Designer Bethany Gupwell. We are clearly present as observers, detached from their caged world, but able to gain insights about them through their conversations and interactions. Their lives have been like this for years and will continue in a similar vein for years to come. Very little that transpires is likely to change them; they have been trapped for too long and now they are just picking up more baggage. Don’t expect anything transformative or a grand twist that will change the course of events; it’s mostly more of the same, because that is how their lives are; though there is a last-minute revelation at the end of the 150 mins (including an interval).Judd states that the play is set ‘in a small kitchen, in a small house, in a small town, on the edge of a small city, in the West Midlands’. Are you feeling the claustrophobia? The location is confirmed with Sam Baker-Jones's opening lines. Raised in Stourbridge, he initiates the rare joy of hearing a play performed in London spoken in the often maligned accents of the Birmingham region, with the rest of the cast following in suit. He makes Matt a likeable, witty and amusing. He’s twenty-five; a young man with stories to tell, situations to relate and a whole other side of mystery. Forever mourning the loss of his grandfather, he believes the man’s spirit lives on in the house and that he can capture his sounds through recording the air around him. This enable him to create some captivatingly eerie and weird moments. Although he has film and television credits, this his professional stage debut, which is hard to believe given the remarkable quality of his performance.This study of individuals and their interactions continues with the entrance of his cousin Jess aged twenty-three. Hannah Millward embodies the pain and anger of a tormented lost soul searching for meaning and someone in life. Has she found it in the casual relationship wth a women ten years older than herself? Seemingly not. Is she capable of any sort of relationship that is not argumentative and unfulfiling? Unlikely, given the way she fails to get on with her parents. Not that they are easy. Lucy Benjamin as Monica puts on some fabulous rants, tirades and outbursts, mostly aimed at Jess and in particular the women she hangs around with. But beneath the outward show, Benjamin reveals a damaged woman harbouring secrets from the past that pain her, the realities of which keeps to herself as she takes consolation in bottles of wine. She displays a powerhouse of emotional turmoil. Meanwhile, Mark Frost, as her husband Jeff, displays a man who remains subdued for the most part, listening to the exchanges but trying to keep his distance, immersing himself in his hobby and giving an air of introspection and inner torment which his affiliation to the church seems not to have absolved. His demon is revealed but shows no signs of going away.Four accomplished actors portray clearly defined characters in HERE and the interactions they present resonate with aspects of family life we have all surely experienced at some time. The play also has a very special sense of the Midlands about it. I grew up there and I could feel it. There’s something about the Midlands.

We’ll never know what, if anything, Shakespeare was on when he wrote A Midsummer Night’s Dream, but the team at Intermission Youth Theatre have based their ‘Shakespeare Remix’ firmly in the world of hallucinatory drugs with a brilliantly devised piece they’ve called MSND. Full marks for the title alone.It’s available only at Chelsea Theatre, where a versatile fairytale woodland fills the stage, courtesy of designer Delyth Evans, magically lit by Julian McCready who has mixed colours to give some of the hottest shades ever seen on stage, though perhaps on many a trip. There is nothing sacred about the text here and where famous lines from other plays fit the bill they are comically introduced. The script is treated as an old garment from which pieces have been cut out and onto which patches on themes of identity, relationships, and substance abuse have been sewn to create a new style that retains the structure and some of the finer points of the original. The language used by the actors in the passages they have devised is street talk, though often poetic; a sharp reminder that Shakespeare spoke and wrote in the language of his day; his works were accessible to the people and Intermission Youth take us back to that time.The original play is complex, if not confusing, so here is what the company has to say about this version, pretty much verbatim. After abusing Titania’s trust, Oberon is refused access to his daughter, Asia. His best friend, Puck, tries to cheer him up and when a new drug hits the street he sees this as the perfect opportunity. But this isn’t any old drug, this is MSND. Once taken, it is believed you inherit special powers, including the ability to speak Shakespeare. Oberon is convinced that with the help of this drug, he can get to Asia, but, unbeknown to him, Titania also stumbles upon MSND, so has powers of her own! The temptation of the drug lures them to the playground, where they take on the role of King and Queen of the fairies. Or maybe they are just high? Meanwhile, school is out for the summer and Lysander, Demetrius, Theseus and Egeus place some names in a hat. Whoever they pick, they must bed, before the showcase tomorrow evening. Things turn ugly, however, when Egeus discovers that his sister, Hermia is in the hat. To win the bet, the boys persuade the girls to follow them into the playground. Also rehearsing in the playground are a group of performers, determined to put on a good evening of entertainment for their school showcase. They too stumble upon MSND. After much coming and going, many explanations and in the light of new understandings all is ultimately resolved.The team that last year gave us the thrilling Juliet and Romeo remains very much the same. For those not familiar with the company, and anyone who is passionate about theatre should be, Sir Mark Rylance, who is on the Board of Trustees and deeply involved in its work, explains, “Intermission Youth is a sanctuary for youth. It is a safe place to do unsafe things like express your feelings truly, depend upon others, trust in yourself, and play Shakespeare plays as if they were made for you this morning. Under the genius direction of Darren Raymond, IY has for fifteen years created the most lively, original productions of Shakespeare plays that I have witnessed in London. This is Shakespeare liberated from its time and brought to life in the culture, wit, and wild soul life of London’s young and too often excluded generation”.The result is a high-energy production, that is a joy to watch; full of wit, repartee and humour but not afraid to engage in more solemn moments and to drive home its message. There’s never a dull moment as a cast that exudes confidence covers every inch of the stage, standing on boxes, leaping from one to the other, embracing the poles, peering through windows and occupying the throne-like built-in chair while using the aisles for exits and entrances. The everyday clothes keep it rooted in the present, but Costume Designer Caitlin Clarke has had some fun with the special outfits as required and her colours are well-matched. An extended creative team consists of Assistant Director Nana Antwi-Nyanin, Stage Manager Elisabeth Tooms, who has plenty to keep her busy, Raymond’s executive Assistant Olivia Fraser and Producer Patrick Glackin. There are twenty actors in the group and they all feature in both Cast 1 and Cast 2 which alternate, giving maximum performing opportunities to the whole ensemble.Intermission Youth was set up in 2008. Their aim remains unchanged: ‘to help transform the lives of disadvantaged youth aged between16-25yo, young people living in deprivation and experiencing high levels of anti-social behaviour, family breakdown, dependency, and criminality. They believe that constant support, nurture, and care in a young person's life can give them the confidence and belief to make positive choices and change the course of their lives’. And it works. This year I spoke to several actors I’d met last year and others who have been through the experience of Intermission Youth. Their stories of transformed lives and opportunities opened up confirm everything the company says. Imagine what could be achieved if every borough, town and city had an Intermission Youth!

Jamie Patterson (Will) and Charis Murray (Bean) give delightful performances in Cheer Up Slug by Tamsin Rees, the debut production for their company, Shot in the Dark Theatre, at the Bread and Roses Theatre, Clapham. Bean already has the tent up and is relaxing in the warmth of the autumn sun. The birds are singing and she is clearly enjoying the tranquillity of the countryside. Like Will, who has not yet arrived, Bean is looking forward to the start of their Duke of Edinburgh’s Award Scheme bronze expedition, though perhaps Will is somewhat more immersed in the spirit and the requirements of the event. With nerdy passion for the adventure and excessive deference to all he has been told by the teacher in charge in terms rules and requirements of the exercise, Will begins to impress upon Bean the importance of the event and what it means to him in terms of his CV. Bean, however, is less concerned about doing everything by the book and has a far more laissez-faire approach.A third member of the group still hasn’t arrived. Dean is Will’s long-term friend who is now going out with Bean. Here the mystery sets in that will turn to complications and pose a major challenge to their understanding of each other and their relationships. The inevitable big moment, the twist in the otherwise simple story that just has to happen, eventually turns this piece of light theatre into a deeper and more profound story about trust, integrity and decency.Bean is only sixteen so we assume Will to be the same. Murray gives Bean a self-assured simplicity and care-free persona but also carries off a radical transition when events in her relationship with Dean unfold, revealing her vulnerability, the expectations she has of friends and her inner strength to make changes to her friendships. Patterson is tall, slim and has long arms; proportions that seem oversized for the confines of the stage but which are ideal to portray a gangly adolescent whose body has developed far more fully than his social skills. He captures teenage awkwardness very well. Imagining that everyone should see the world as he does and failing to understand the sensitivities of others he falls victim to gauche outbursts and ultimately inappropriate behaviour. Cheer Up Slug was Rees’ first full play and this early work provides a gentle start for this new company. It’s not a profound piece but under the skilful direction of Hannah McLeod, Patterson and Murray emerge as a well-matched pair giving two solid performances with the suggestion that they are ready and able to take on much bigger stuff as their company movies forward.

There was a more than usual buzz in the air at the Coliseum in anticipation of ENO’s latest foray into the world of Gilbert & Sullivan with The Yeoman of the Guard. It had nothing to do with the operetta but rather the raging debate about Arts Council England’s decision to withdraw the venue's entire funding of £12.6 million combined with the prospect of a move to Manchester if it would like to see any of it restored. Regular patrons along with casual attendees were incensed. A lady in black took to the stage to give a brief outline of the situation and was met with rapturous applause in defence of the company and the fight for its future, combined with hissing and booing worthy of the approaching pantomime season every time the Arts Council’s name or their actions were mentioned. Given the show we were all about to see, sending its members to the Tower would likely have met with massive approval.Conductor Chris Hopkins followed the gloomy news with a controlled, hearty and melancholic rendition of Sulivan’s overture. The piece is generally regarded as his most ambitious, in which he abandons running the gamut of tunes from the operetta in favour of an opening in sonata form with an augmented orchestra and just the slightest hint of what is to come. Neither is there a big opening chorus number. Instead, Phoebe (Heather Lowe) sets the tone for this tale of the ups and downs of romance and the frustrations encountered in the pursuit of love as she ‘sits and sighs’ at her spinning wheel, sweetly singing When maiden loves.Anthony Ward's design supports the solemn mood, combined with emotive lighting from Oliver Fenwick. There is that a pervading darkness and inspired use of the Tower of London and its backdrop Bridge. In Act 2 the White Tower stands majestically on the revolve, turning to create new scenes and movement opportunities. Its presence is in stark contrast to the more minimalist aspects of the set using chain curtains to denote the prison and an air of people restricted by circumstances. The recent displays of pageantry at Her Majesty's funeral make the splendid costumes of the Yeoman seem very familiar and they are all immaculately presented and kept in order by the Lieutenant of the Tower. Steven Page’s rich baritone guarantees his assertive and controlling presence. Updated to the 1950s, which doesn’t sit well with some of the story, a newsreel projection sets the scene and the period; somewhat gimmicky yet also amusing. The ladies of the chorus also don uniforms of post-war WRVS style and, at this performance, they were led by the powerful, no-nonsense Gaynor Keeble as Dame Carruthers.Anthony Gregory does a splendid job as Colonel Fairfax, convincing throughout and a joy to hear. The same goes for Neal Davies as Sergeant Meryll, Alexandra Oomens as Elsie and Isabelle Peters as Kate. John Molloy clearly relishes the evil and mischievousness inherent in Shadbolt, which brings us to Richard Cabe as Jack Point, the street entertainer. As with Les Dennis in HMS Pinafore, we have a well-known figure from outside the operatic world brought in as an attraction. Cabe gets off to a shaky start with a weak, half-spoke rendition of what should be the delightful I have a song to sing O. His voice warms up as the show progresses but the exuberance of his performance distorts the balance of the production, making it overly about him.This is still a production to be admired and one that under the direction of Jo Davies confirms the strength and value of ENO, the quality of its soloists and the strength of its chorus and production team. It’s an asset that should not be lost to London.

Paddy (Brendan Dunlea) leads a traditional life in rural Ireland. He has a wife, two children (a boy and a girl) and some cattle. It’s the sort of existence that could have lasted a lifetime had he and Ailís not developed a love of travel. It started out with the fairly obvious cheap trips to France and Spain courtesy of Ryanair, but the wanderlust soon grew and the destinations became more exotic, reaching a climax with the life-changing journey to Jordan. The story was inspired by playwright/director Áine Ryan’s own trip to the region, the friends she made among local Bedouins and the many trails she followed through the rocky terrain in which the city is located. We learn a lot about the region from Paddy, but it is his inner journey that really captivates. As it unfolds, layer upon layer of heartache and pain are balanced by the joys he experienced and the memories he holds. Now embracing another life in the company of Diego, his local guide and companion, he finds satisfaction in the solitude of his own cave. He starts the journey to Jordan with his wife, but such is Paddy’s passion for Petra he finds a way to send her on the rest of the trip without him. Her story would make an interesting play, as she makes her own discoveries and unearths a side of herself that had lain dormant for some time. Paddy is thus able to console himself with the thought that she’ll be alright without him, at least for now. One event in her tale provides a twist in his story but it is the family tragedy a few years before that dominates his thoughts in the desert. He has much to come to terms with that in Ireland he was forever surrounded by. Here, with a new landscape, he can find relief and perhaps some understanding. Why would he want to leave?Dunlea tells Paddy’s story with a good measure of Irish wit, unflinchingly deploying his Cork accent to make melody from the highs and lows of his tale. He exudes warmth and fellowship which he demonstrates as he takes on the voices of others in his saga and regales us with incidents that bring both the people and the situations to life. He also knows how to delicately wear his heart upon his sleeve and share with us all that has brought him not just to a physical location but a stage in his life where he has learned to love himself. There’s much to be gained from how he approaches life, deals with the past and seizes opportunities.Dunlea’s heartfelt performance is supported by some beautiful contributions from the team of creatives. The stage at the Jack Studio is transformed by Constance Comporat to capture the Jordanian look. ‘Persian’ rugs adorn the floors with four sets of pastel drapes hanging either side of a raised platform, allowing for exits and entrances to various locations. The old suitcases and a globe are reminders of his travels and the Arabic tea tray speaks for the hospitality he receives. Alex Forey sensitively lights all of this, further enhancing the changing moods. Music by Cáit Ní Riain & Eyal Arad blends Irish and Arabian instruments and sounds that accompany most scenes, reminding us of the combination of the two cultures, suggesting where he has come from and where he is now living his new-found existence.The rapport Dunlea maintains with his audience makes for a thoroughly enjoyable evening of storytelling that has some surprising and moving moments.

When the setting for your play is the basement of a London pub, where better to perform than at Barons Court Theatre which is located in the basement of the west London pub aptly named The Curtain’s Up?A Butcher of Distinction is a quite extraordinary play by Rob Hayes, which, as far as anyone can tell, has lain dormant since its premier at the King’s Head, Islingon, in 2011, having been hastily switched from the Cock Tavern which had been forced to close down. Quite why it has not surfaced more often is a mystery. Perhaps it doesn’t fit too neatly into a specific box or address the many social issues and personal causes that have to come to be the material of so much current theatre. What it possesses in that domian, by way of exploring abuse, is also no more than a storyline ingredient dealt with non-judgementally if vividly. Playwrights often mentioned in the same breath as Hayes include Pinter, Orton, Beckett, Ionesco and Adamov. Black comedy, surrealism, theatre of the absurd and gothic horrror are invoked in various measures to create this gripping tale that starts with comedic playfulness and follows an ever-chilling path to a grim denouement.Not every detail of the story is filled in, which leaves ample opportunity for those who like to speculate about the background details and experiences of the characters. The broad sweep is that non-identical twins Hartley (Connor McCrory) and Hugo (Joseph Ryan-Hughes), having spent years in the countryside where they were kept in isolation by an abusive father and presumably a compicit mother, now find themselves in the London basement where their father hung out for weeks at time engaged in activities that come to light only with the arrival of Teddy (Ethan Reid). They are searching among the detritus of their father’s existence in the hope of finding the wealth that he must surely have left them following his death and that of their mother. With their family home already sold, success in this area is imperative for the orphaned boys. Rather than finding wealth, they are informed by Teddy that their father owed him money and that if they cannot pay the substantial debt he will find other ways in which their personal assets can be used. As Teddy threateningly explains, “I provided your father with things money can’t buy. And now he’s left me the most priceless gift of all. His most precious possessions”. But further twists abound and ultimately the two boys, one of whom professes to be a goatheard and the other a butcher (or was that just a childhood game of fantasy they played?), eventually manage to turn the tide of events.The chemistry that exists between McCrory and Ryan-Hughes is so profound as to suggest that they could well be twins in real life and it’s matched by the investment each makes in his role. As the first-born, by ten minutes, Hartley has the upper hand, which McCrory establishes from the outset in his control of the situation and giving of instructions. Ryan Hughes gives Hugo a submissive and slightly dumb air that makes him the obvious target or the first advances of Teddy, but under pressure he can also rage. Reid makes a frightening entrance and with his height dominates the claustrophobic cellar, at first amicable, then menacing and finally villainous. As his behaviour becomes more sinister, so the boys’ fear and sense of impending terror becomes tangible. By the end, however, it is Teddy who is on the receiving end and Reid mirrors the dread that previously befell the young lads. Within the space of some eighty minutes, through stunningly accomplished performances, they have turned comedy into tragedy and a dream into a nightmare.Director Macadie Amoroso brings out the best in three actors who know how to immerse theselves in a role. Within the tight confines of the basement platform she uses every inch of space to create a production full of movement and that makes use of all the opportunities afforded by Laura Mugford’s busy set of junk. She has done a brilliant job in drawing out nuanced performances from a highly talented cast.This team has created a dramatic triumph for Just a Regular House productions. It’s as emotionally draining as it is rewarding, with a huge wow factor that can leave you gasping for a breath of crisp autumn air and probably a shot of something stronger. Both are available upstairs from the sinister cellar.

Douglas Henshall has wasted no time in returning to the stage after his years in Shetland. Among other observations on his departure from the series he said, “Flawed humans are always the most interesting to play because I feel they are the most truthful”. Truth and people’s perception of it, is at the heart of his current role as James Melville in Rona Munrow’s Mary at Hampstead Theatre. He is also the central character; the play could just as easily be called Melville, for it is as much about him as it is the eponymous Queen of Scotland. She is merely the subject of his soul-searching and the conflicts he encounters in interpreting the past and in reconciling himself to the Queen’s bleak future. He has also to consider the future security of the nation to which he is equally devoted.Munro is in doubt about events in the life of Mary and where the truth lies. She has researched extensively for this play just as she did for the other Scottish histories in her James cycle. She rejects the notion, quite commonly held, that Mary was so full of passion for Bothwell, following the murder of her former husband, almost certainly by Bothwell, that she willingly gave herself to him and in so doing showed herself to be a woman of poor judgment and unfit to rule. Munro’s scouring of ‘original sources and eye-witness accounts’ leads to what for her is the inescapable conclusion that Mary ‘was raped by James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell to force her into a marriage that briefly gave him power, but ultimately destroyed them both’.The details of that night in the bedchamber and the subsequent abuse of Mary form the basis of much of the debate. Yet whatever happened the urgent business of state is to secure the signature of Melville on the document that will rid the country of her and set up a regency for the next king. The conversion of Melville from a devoted guardian of the Queen to a man who will join with the rest of the Scottish nobles is in the hands of Thompson (Brian Vernel). His meteoric rise from a servant gatekeeper to a diplomat leaves us in no doubt that his loyalties lie with himself. Securing his own future means serving the rising groundswell of opinion against Mary and furthering the wishes of the lords. Vernel brings all the skills of an investigative detective or barrister interrogating the accused to the role, while Henshall captures the pain of a man whose world view is being turned on its head. The task is hard work and the process of persuasion makes for some laboured, and drawn-out dialogue. It lacks the highs and lows of a court-room drama and settles down as more of an academic debate. Nevertheless, it provides and insights into the world of politics where, as we know only too well, self-interest reigns supreme across the ages.There are some lighter moments in all of this courtesy of Agnes, a servant of the royal household, whose contribution is perhaps way above the status she would have been accorded at the time, but who is constantly being put in her place by the men she interrupts; a cameo for how women have been consistently treated. Rona Morison, brings some much-needed wit and humour to the proceedings, while passionately stating her protestant credentials and her vision for a catholic-free future; which begs the question as to how she has survived so long in the Queen’s service.Talking of whom, by now, you might be wondering where Mary is in all of this. Meg Watson, in her professional stage debut, floats across the stage at one point and is later given a handful of lines, but if you blink you might miss her. This play about a woman turns out to be all about the men who surround her, which gives it an odd slant, but also reflects the extent to which women can be marginalised even when they are central to all that is happening.Ashley Martin-Davis has created a vast, dark grey panelled room, which is matched by equally dark costumes and whose dourness is brightened only by the predominantly lighting effects of Matt Haskins. Nothing can be accused of detracting from the script whose wordiness requires our undivided attention, but the combined effects of all these elements makes Roxan Silbert’s production overwhelmingly cheerless; except perhaps for a last-minute, bizarre and jaring momentary scene when women invade the streets and demand to know what is going on. They are not alone in that.Beneath the surface of Mary there lies a host of issues and some contemporary resonances. They are well camouflaged, but worth picking out and reflecting upon.

A note on the back cover of Peter Gill’s latest play, Something in the Air, at Jermyn Street Theatre, claims that the stories of the two old protagonists “flow like mist down the Thames”. The reality is that their tales create a fog that is often hard to see through. “As the old men’s youth comes to life, so do the young men they once loved.” Thanks for that. It’s unfortunate that this gem of information is not made more widely known from the outset, for therein lies the key to navigating through the clag. Before reading the sleeve a conversation on the street after the play with a man who had fathomed it out allowed me to unravel the mire of this play on the way home.Alex (Christopher Godwin) and Colin (Ian Gelder) sit side by side in matching red leather armchairs staring somewhat hauntingly into the audience, when not nodding off. Neither has a direct gaze, as might be the case if their alternating reminiscences were addressed to us in the form of a monologue. Neither are they part of a conversation each has with the other. Only occasionally do they interact. The appearance of two young men, Nicholas (James Schofield) and Gareth (Sam Thorpe-Spinks), one on each side, might suggest that these two are the younger incarnations of the old men. Believing that can lead to considerable confusion, for these two apparitions are in fact the respective first loves of the two men, who exist in their minds and to whom their words are addressed.They are joined by two real-time visitors. Clare (Claire Price), the niece of Colin and Andrew (Andrew Woodall), Alex’s son, whom he frequently confuses with his other son Robert, a reminder that his mind is not what it used to be. His obsession with a family dog not being not allowed on the premises further illustrates his mental deterioration. There’s more to the Robert and the dog story, but telling would spoil a tiny twist.The rather shallow Andrew makes a great deal of fuss about the men placing their hands on top of each other and what the carers might think while not understanding why Clare is not bothered about it. She points out that he is making a fuss over nothing and it’s hard not to disagree and wonder why this element was ever included. Indeed, the existence of the four minor characters often seems questionable, given that their parts are considerably underwritten and that they remain idle for much of the time. The two men never leave their chairs and the direction under Peter Gill and Alice Hamilton makes for an essentially static and lifeless production, with the most minimal of sound matched by lighting that remains constant throughout. An encouraging aspect of the play is that here we have a new work that provides an opportunity for elderly actors to assume centre-stage. Godwin is 79 and Gelder 73. The downside is that they become stereotypical portrayals of men in the declining years of life in a nursing home, but then that is what the play is about.Throw in some rambling memories of happier days and that is Something in the Air.

The frantic moto perpetuo of Philip Glass’s Rubric fills the auditorium as an overture to Philip Ridley’s breathtaking work, The Poltergeist, at the Arcola Theatre. The music permeates the body and lingers in the mind throughout the play. Although switched off as soon as the performance begins, it haunts the action throughout and exists as a memory that accompanies the action. It’s no add-on, but perhaps one of the most carefully chosen pieces of music to ever introduce a drama. The Poltergeist is one of many works that Ridley wrote during and around the period of the Pandemic. It was live-streamed internationally from Southwark Playhouse in November 2020. He, along with director Wiebke Green and actor Joseph Potter created that version and have now delivered the stage debut courtesy of Flying Colours Productions. The trio know each other well, and it shows. The level of intimate synchronicity is evident throughout this piece. Here are three enormously talented creatives working as one with a clear focus and unity of purpose that alone can create such a stunning production. The Arcola, in a description that cuts to the bones of this play, says this ‘one-man show is about art, family, memory, and being haunted by the life we never lived’. Indeed it is, but that stark description belies the rich depths of writing that allow Sasha, the lone character, to expose the tormented mind that is manifestly on the verge of a breakdown and to so vividly portray the characters that surround him.Potter plays them all. Through physical and verbal contortions he moves rapidly from one person to the next in exchanges that begin to explain his tormented condition. He takes on the voices, the accents, the mannerisms and postures of family, friends and neighbours, each sharply defined and given a location by Green, who uses every inch of space and tightly choreographs the whole work which is unobtrusively, but supportivley lit by Chuma Emembolu.Perhaps Sasha's life started out too well, when his artistic endeavours had him hailed as an art-world prodigy at the age of fifteen. In those days celebrities wanted to buy his paintings and he dreamed of being a superstar. Now he lives in a run-down flat, with his out-of-work boyfriend, and is an unknown. There was a turning point, an event which changed him, but it is one that others might have overcome and handle differently. His reactions to it reveal a mind that was probably already starting to go its own way. As a potentially unstable narrator of his life the accuracy of his accounts are perhaps questionable, but they are, nevertheless, real to him.There’s an image he creates in the opening lines when he wakes up with a headache; something that is not unusual for him. He wipes the steam from the bathroom mirror and says, “I look exactly like I feel. Hunted by hyenas. A nightmare. I have them a lot”. Potter captures this in the animated, relentless movement and the impassioned speed with which he delivers much of the text. He is a man possessed. Is he running away from the hyenas, trying to escape or is he running with them as one of the pack in pursuit of something that will sustain him? Is he laughing with them or at them? Whatever is going on in Sasha’s mind he behaves as one both hunted and haunted by what is in his mind; a man engaged in frenzied inner thoughts and impassioned outward expressions, always seemingly racing from one to another.Potter has all the skills necessary to create and sustain a one-hander and here they have been drawn out in Green’s fearless direction, enabling him to display them in abundance. Together they have given life to Ridley’s exuberant writing, lifting it from the page to the stage in a textbook collaboration that demonstrates what can be achieved when the great work together. Quite simply a tour de force.

In marked contrast to the UK’s recent smooth transition from one monarch to another, the story of Dmitry (Tom Byrne), at the new Marylebone Theatre, tells a woeful tale of power-grabbing, plotting, deceits and lies, bloody battles, assassinations, divisions and families torn apart. It takes place during a period known as The Troubles, a time of unrest in Russia that grew out of political and religious rivalry in the years between the death of Czar Fyodor I, the last of the Rurik dynasty, in 1598, and the election of Michael I, in 1613, whose Romanov dynasty would rule until 1917.Priests, prelates, patriarchs and pretenders all play their part along with the machinations of the grieving Maria, the alleged mother of Dmitry (Poppy Miller) and the manipulations of people with power and influence. Dimitry comes through all of this with the help of his Polish allies but enjoys (if that is the word) only eleven months as Czar from July 1605 to May 1606 when he was killed by armed crowds who had accessed the Kremlin and ousted him onto the streets.Schiller’s last play is an unfinished composition that writer Peter Oswald has crafted into a full-length work of some two hours and forty-five minutes. It has a complex plot that is rooted in the events of the day, some details of which are more reliable than others. Oswald has chosen his version of the past to form a coherent tale of events combined with some artistic licence to mould a grand work that at times has the air of Shakespearean histories and tragedies.It is to Poland, where he grew up after escaping Russia, that the young Dimitry turns for help in asserting the legitimacy of his claim to be the rightful Czar as the son of Ivan the Terrible. Contrary to popular belief at the time, he asserts that he was not murdered as a child, but that another was substituted for him and that he grew up sheltered in a monastery. His words convince the Polish authorities who take up arms on his behalf against Moscow and the incumbent czar, Boris Gudonov. On the international stage that is not just an opportunity for aggrandisement on the part of Poland and a chance to quash Russia’s territorial threats, but also a religious war that has the backing of the Pope, who is keen to return Orthodox Russia to the Catholic fold, which initially Dmitry consents to, having been raised within the western faith.As the leaders conspire a more personal and agonising note is introduced as Dimitry’s mother, still mourning the loss of her son years after she believed him to have been killed, is confronted with the sight of the young pretender and must decide whether he really is her offspring or not. Her vacillations and ultimate cover-up in this matter raise questions of personal integrity and honesty as well as the old chestnut of whether the ends justify the means and how far people are prepared to go for personal gain. Legitimate or not, the Poles have a figurehead and those opposed to Gudonov are prepared to use him to further their cause.Director Tim Supple has valiantly grappled with this lengthy work and its cast of fifteen. The result is a production that is heavy with debate and denies emotional attachment. There is a lot of listening to arguments and claims with the opportunity to ponder on how convincing they are or whether you would have gone along with the lines of action adopted. Moral judgments can be made but there is nothing that inspires allegiance to one side or the other. It’s an interesting story, but not one enlivened by the triumph of good over evil or right over wrong.

Patrick Withey gives a delightfully engaging and endearing performance as the troubled 15-year-old in Black Hound Productions’ Alright!, which has absolutely nothing to do with Catherine Tate’s Lauren.Noah sits behind a table in his home staring at a single chocolate cupcake with a lone candle on it and proclaims, “Happy Birthday to me, 15”. Then screams, “The end of the world”. It comes as a surprise, but it sows the seeds of his story that goes on to explore his isolation, frustration and despair; his sense of simply not being alright and his inability to cope with life.The full extent of his condition emerges incrementally. At first, he sets the scene and anecdotally builds the fuller picture of his situation. It’s a solo performance but he is not alone. He has conversations through recorded dialogue that brings to life his school counsellor, dad, gran and girlfriend. These exchanges take place in different parts of the stage in a cleverly-designed set.The piece is descriptive rather than analytical. It also doesn’t come to any conclusions. Instead it presents a statement of how some people are and what they have to live with. Don’t expect any profound answers to penetrating questions. This is about living with yourself and others, the stress of exams, the bullying that goes on school and how even mates on the cricket team can mock you. Price gives a captivating performance throughout and his self-deprecating manner and precise delivery combined with careful timing of punch-lines provide an uplifting element of humour. As Noah’s dad says, “You’ve gotta laugh!” and that is a good maxim to have in life and works for those of us listening to his story. The tragedy, and the point at which the mental health issues emerge, is when Noah points out that in his situation things just aren’t amusing and that he can’t laugh.A new chapter opens for him at college but life soon becomes as much of challenge there as was at school and will be for perhaps the rest of his life. In contrast to his quiet, reserved and fairly nerdy self he goes out and gets drunk at a student party and embarrasses himself, particularly in failed conversations with girls; an event as disastrous as his school prom. But it’s back home that things come to a head in a tense encounter with his dad, and two men, distant from each other, who cannot understand themselves let alone the other, try to express what they feel and explain their behaviour.At the end we are given a few tips and left with the hope that one day Noah, like so many, will find someone who can really help him to understand himself and that at the very least his life will go, no doubt as struggle, but that at least he will still be alive.

Stunning, imaginative, inspired, colourful, amusing, brilliantly performed and beautifully sung, this Trial By Jury is Gilbert and Sullivan at its very best.Always keen to take a dig at the establishment, the duo latched onto the offence of breach of promise of marriage as the subject for what became their shortest operetta and just happens to have the perfect running time for the Fringe. It was first performed in 1875 and became an immediate hit. The common law tort was repealed in 1971, so Velocirapture Productions (alumni and students members of Cambridge University G & S Society and few friends) have set their show in the year 1968. This has worked out extremely well in terms of costume which are in an array of colours and designs from the period, greatly cheering up the traditional dullness of Victorian attire. Everyone looks stunning with the ladies in pretty frocks and dresses and the all-male jury, retained from original, in jackets worthy of a regatta.The arrogant Edwin (Seb Blount) has been summoned to court by his ex-fiancée, Angelina (Tiffany Charnley). The stern Usher (James Ward) calls for silence in court and the battle ensues to see for whom justice will be done. It soon becomes evident that the proceedings will be far from impartial. The jury is manifestly biased, encouraged by the usher who says they can ignore what the ‘ruffianly defendant’ has to say. Hence, they greet him with hostility in some splendidly directed group movements. Meanwhile the Defendant admits that Angelina bored him and so he took up with another woman. The Learned Judge (Christian Longstaff) enters in vivid red robes, but in a wonderfully entertaining comic twist he seems to be the most youthful person on stage rather than the elderly gentleman who would normally play the part. He sings of his rise to power and admits to his own shortcomings in the same manner as the Defendant. Abandoning the usual wedding dress, Angelina arrives in a stunning black cocktail dress and the proceedings continue with some clever humour that must make this the most amusing Trial By Jury ever performed. Dramas abound in the ensuing quite ludicrous court case before everything is resolved to everyone’s satisfaction and ‘joy unbounded’ reigns.The large cast is tightly and imaginatively directed by Tiffany Charnley who says, “Our setting has allowed us to remove the character of Angelina from a position of victim in this trial, to a more powerful role who manipulates this outdated law to her own advantage”. One of the musical challenges for the show proved to be reducing a score written for full orchestra to one with only eight players and half the number of parts. Musical Director, Robert Nicholas, says: “[we] had to carefully select the instruments to best cover the textures and harmonies in the original score, whilst [still] producing a voluminous but easily blended sound. As the conductor, I am not exempt from multitasking, aiming to also cover the bass drum, cymbals, triangle and, occasionally, second violin!” Together they keep everything moving at a cracking pace and the quality of the acting and singing is outstanding throughout. The full-cast rendition of the highly complex A Nice Dilemma We Have Here sound like something out of grand opera. It’s hard to imagine that Gilbert and Sullivan themselves would not be thrilled with this production and delighted to see that comedic musical satire is still thriving and being performed to this level of excellence.

There’s a lot packed in to Long Nights in Paradise, probably too much, but it still makes for an interesting story that explores the ups and downs of life, the building and disintegration of relationships and how quickly people’s lives can dramatically and sometimes tragically change by an event or a stroke of misfortune.Scott Cooper enjoys a very comfortable middle-class life. He has the job, the flat and the family that all make for security. But that setting is only the background to this story. In a series of misfortunes all of those are swept away and he goes from the high-life of his apartment to the low-life of the street. It’s the first of several chilling ‘if only’ episodes and exposes the fragility of our existence, vulnerability to external forces and the dreadful sacrifices that people are sometimes called upon to make.In his uncomfortable new world he meets others who have their own stories to tell and that become entwined with his. Not least the young woman who loves to dance who is a resident in the Grenfell Tower. Soon the play becomes not just one man’s story but a social commentary on housing, homelessness, crime, social responsibility and politics. The multimedia elements of the production with projections onto the white backdrop focus on some of these and serve to reflect his inner turmoil and also provide settings for the story and visuals for events such as the Grenfell fire.The man manages to hold on to his memories, if nothing else, and there are some moving moments when he relives the joys he has known in flashbacks. But is he also a flawed person with an unsavoury streak running through him that persists in all circumstances or is he a redeemable character who will one day sufficiently examine and reassess his life in a way that will place him on the road to salvation?Long Nights in Paradise is an ambitious work, with a lot going on. It is often heart-rending but with elements of hope. The breadth of the material and issues raised at all levels not surprisingly serve to give it broad appeal.

We’ve all been there! That sense of recognition permeates the room during Tim Marriott’s latest play Appraisal. The giggles, other intermittent sounds, and nodding heads are not uniformly expressed but occur when a specific moment in the dialogue clearly resonates with someone.The story weaves an intriguing line of progression through the questions, criticisms and observations that make up Nicky’s annual review. Conducting the event is Jo, a senior manager in the company where she is a head of department. It soon emerges that their agendas are not the same. Nicky’s simple desire to carry on in the job she currently has does not sit well with what turn out to be Jo’s restructuring ambitions. It all starts out fairly amicably but soon deteriorates as Jo tries to worm his way to the heart of his case. It becomes increasingly uncomfortable and unpleasant as he applies more and more pressure and chooses to raise matters that are put-downs of Angela. He’s done his homework, but so has she and while he has the ammunition for attack his defences are weaker and he has only shaky plans for the counterattack. Thus it becomes a battlefield of power tactics and the art of manipulation, brimming with subtext and subterfuge.Decorated actor, director and producer, Nicholas Collett plays the rather sexist and behind-the-times boss. He delivers lines with subtle undertones and impeccable timing including menacing pauses. The highly esteemed Angela Bull, recent star of ITV's Honour, opposite Keeley Hawes, starts in a calmly decorous and tolerant manner, seemingly listening sympathetically as she gradually reveals her inner strengths until she starts to give as good as she gets. Both brim with subtext and subterfuge.Appraisal reflects a hierarchical dynamic from decades ago yet one which we know still persists beneath many a glass ceiling. It’s a joy to see it exposed in this highly focussed and amusingly serious work with the added bonus of being able to speculate as to how it wil all end and whether there will be a twist.

The Greeks knew a lot about war and told great tales of heroism, victory and defeat. From the wealth of material in that genre, co-creators and performers Genevieve Dunne and Jonathan D’Young, a husband and wife team with a nine-month-old son Orien and their dog, Suki, have reimagined a classic tale to construct Tempus Fugit: Troy and Us, using classic Greek theatrical techniques.In their masks, they take us back to the Trojan War and the tragic fate of mighty Hector and his wife Andromache. Unmasked, they appear on stage as Bea and Alec. They meet and form a relationship that starts out well until Alec is posted to Afghanistan. As a soldier’s wife, Bea always knew that this might happen, but that doesn’t make the reality any easier, especially when a second and third posting comes along. With those encounters comes PTSD and Bea is faced with the trauma of her husband’s declining mental health and the possibility of his death on duty each time he goes away.It’s not an uncommon story but in this version, Bea gets drawn into a radio adaptation of The Iliad which is interspersed with the 21st-century story using imaginative mask work in the fantasy relationship Bea develops with Hector, the ultimate hero, who stands in stark contrast with the demon-haunted Alec. Wooden blocks are frequently reconfigured to create settings and locations, their siting being incorporated into scenes of physical theatre and dance, making for smooth and entertaining transformations.Tempus Fugit: Troy and Us was developed in collaboration with Dr Alice König, senior lecturer in the St Andrews University School of Classics, who runs the interdisciplinary Visualising War Project and has carried out extensive research into 'how war stories work and what they do to us'.This one works very well and creates an original imaginative production with moving performances that casts light on the realities of army life and the suffering it can bring to the men and women who serve as officers and just as importantly their oft-forgotten wives.

Not all shows have clarity of meaning or purpose yet they still retain a certain charm. Does it matter what it’s about as long as it’s enjoyable? Horsepower explores a range of subjects, but it also tends in that direction.Let’s start with the title. Apparently, there was a time when the play had a section that made references to horses; they were a fixation of one of the characters, but they have been edited out leaving the appellation redundant and and rather bothersome. But the show must go on.The opening scene introduces Desmond, who lives to perform cabaret, but he has a multitude of other interests and occupations, which are mentioned in passing though not developed into later material. In the meantime, as part of his act, we are on the receiving end of some questions from the stage and one lucky punter is involved in a fun little activity that is not to be feared and is entertaining, as one might hope.With his opening gambit done, Desmond disappears and wild-flower-lover, posey-making Wilbert takes over. As this is a solo show these characters are both played by creator and actor Harriet Gandy. It turns out that Desmond is the shadow, maybe even the alter-ego of Wilbert. Thus we have a divided self, one half of which exposes the dark recesses of the other’s mind, layer by layer.The content of the play goes on to examine issues of growing up, surviving the rants of parents that make for a miserable existence, dealing with shame and gender conformity and coping with society’s expectations. And we have the expectation that the long-awaited guests might actually turn up. Gandy deals with these in a series of scenes on a delightfully busy set that allows for various locations to be established, while a hanging rail carries the costumes required for a series of characters. These intriguing individuals often enter into the realms of the absurd, but what really impresses is the almost poetic story-telling, the absorbing nature of the tales and Gandy’s sensitivity, graceful movements and genteel voice that illustrates how intensity and suspense can be created in the calmest of manners.It’s all beautifully performed. There’s no mention of a horse, but there is plenty of power.

Slap ‘N’ Tickle Theatre Company, founded in 2020 by East 15 Acting School alumni, has created a fabulously entertaining piece of devised theatre that explores sensitive issues surrounding consent (or the lack of it) and violence, combining spoken scenes with catchy country-style songs that are light hearted, often comical and always pertinent to the unfolding story.It sounds like an extraordinary and almost unworkable mix and just reading the description of Spit Me Out, begs the question as to how the serious content can be appropriately handled by the two comic cowboys with their guitars in bright red, sequin-clad waistcoats. The secret lies in having another ingredient in the form of Sophie (Madeleine Gordon), who delves into the darkest corners of her past to reveal secret sexual experiences that have remained hidden for years. Can bringing them out into the open bring about life-changing closure or will they continue to haunt her?The cowboys are not ostensibly what they seem. Lawrence Harp and Drew Rafton are, in fact, incarnations of Sophie’s subconscious. Hence she is able to have conversations about events that took place between these two boys in her life, The Boyfriend and The Exes, and confronting them with what they did and allowing them to explain their behaviour and the reasoning behind it. It gives hope that they too will be going through this process, wherever they might be in life, and that it will be a cathartic experience for them all.The musical interludes bring relief from a tale that at times is, quite rightly, deeply troublesome and sad. It is a moving and highly effective expression of the company’s vision to empower and explore the female narrative that also has a didactic dimension to it.Rather like ‘sweet and sour’ the unlikely combination works to considerable effect. Rooted in reality by opening soundbites from recent news stories involving toxic masculinity, Spit Me Out succeeds in delivering a moving message that goes to the heart of failures in sex education, the attitudes of many men learned from their fathers and the plight of women who are at their mercy.

The rhythm of the tango underpins Los Guardiola - The Comedy of Tango in this superb production from Musique et Toile, but the show is much broader than the one dance form. There is much going on in this remarkable combination of dance and movement interspersed with mime sequences that hark back to the era of black and white movies and Charlie Chaplin and that draws on their expertise in commedia dell’arte.The multidisciplinary show has been performed in Paris for over six years. The work is divided into seven scenes, each introduced with its name presented on a chalkboard by Marcelo Guardiola, who is from Argentina. In the dance routines he is joined by the Italian Giorgia Marchiori. They are both performers and choreographers who create a fantasy world of encounters, hopes and disappointmenst in playful vignettes that are frequently amusing.The opening sequence, The Barrel Organ, goes back to the origins of the Tango in a comedic performance set in the streets of Buenos Aires and establishes the light-hearted approach to the subject.The Emigrant is a clear visualisation of the boat journey taken by a young Italian woman to meet a local Argentinian and is followed by The Bachelor Flat. It’s performed on a box which is a metaphor for a bulin, an apartment used for sexual encounters inspired by the famous apartment in Buenos Aires on the second floor of 348 Avenue Corrientes. Arising from the tango Noches de Colón, The Fall tells of the rise and fall of a Porteño dandy in the 1920s who went from nobleman to beggar. It also includes a section from Ravel’s Bolero.If you have ever been to a milonga, you will appreciate the competitiveness of being the best and most spectacular in the salon. In To Each Their Own Tango the woman is invited to dance by a cabeceo, a head gesture that lures her to him. Who knows where it may lead? Perhaps to the next piece, Betrayal, underpinned by Iván Díez’s 1930 poem Amablemente (Kindly). The great singer Edmundo Rivero put the words to music in 1963: He found her in the room and in the arms of another / But, calm and collected, he said to the seducer: / You can leave, the man is not guilty in situations like this. Enough said about machismo.The fantasy Paper Heart concludes the set, bringing to life the poem Corazón de Papel by Alberto Franco: Little rag doll / Dressed as Pierrot, / Though you have no soul / I want only you / Since I know you'll always / Be faithful to me, / Little rag doll, / with a paper heart.An array of black and white costumes and masks enhances these performances along with a host of musical extracts. But it is the carefully crafted dance routines, cleverly and imaginatively constructed, combined with precise execution that rightly stand out. Here, tango is transformed into brilliant theatre.

There is nothing like a timely reminder from the past. For the Millennial Generation, Gen Z and some of the politically and socially unaware of Generation X, The Collie’s Shed might be no more than an angry tale of small-town life. But for those who lived through the miners’ strike, 1984-85, and the Thatcher years it is a slice of harsh reality that divided families and tore communities apart.The setting is the eponymous local Men’s Shed in East Lothian. For those not familiar with the term, Men’s Sheds are ‘community spaces for men to connect, converse and create’. In this particular Shed, four retired miners meet as a review into the policing of the miners’ strikes is under way and the Scottish Parliament is considering a Miners Pardon Bill. This legislation was thought to be necessary to clear those who had received criminal records as participants in some of the most violent industrial action the county had ever seen, with police using cavalry and batton charges against those protesting to protect their jobs.East Lothian and Edinburgh based theatre maker and performer, Shelley Middler has constructed the play based on the real stories and experiences of people who lived through the events. It’s neatly structured in three scenes. The opening introduces the four characters: Billy, Tom, Charlie and Glen, the last of whom arrives unexpectedly and is a source of bitternes and resentment, as he left the area and joined the police force in England. Scene two is a flashback to the events themselves as a younger cast takes over to portray the men at the time of the action, their involvement and the debates in which they participate. The third scene returns to the older men as they attempt to reconcile their differences and move forward.It’s an apposite arrangement of material that conveys not just the events but the long-lasting effects of what took place. The youthful middle section, in particular, reveals the passions that were aroused, the sacrifices that were made and the extent to which relationships became inflamed. These are referenced again by the older men as they look back on events and they give a sense as to how deeply rooted those feeling were and how they still impact on their lives today.Levels of performance vary but there is no doubting the conviction demonstrated in this play and its importance as a reminder of the sacrifices that were made, particularly as we face another potential ‘winter of discontent’.

It’s a day like any other. On the street are four anonymous individuals walking through the city. They are at home in their surroundings and they readily follow the etiquette prescribed for pedestrians, especially when crossing the road. They know what good conduct is and that they should be well-behaved at all times. That is until one of them decides to rebel and WALK-MAN by Don Gnu comes into its own.Soon the tediousness of everyday routines is shattered as a series of edgy stunts performed with muscular physicality repeatedly change the landscape, especially that of the zebra crossing. The dance choreography is integrated into a succession of movements that place the black and white boards into multiple configurations from their traditional format to springboards for leaps, tumbles and acrobatic feats. The options for assembling the planks seem endless with the floor design in a constant state of transformation. The ways in which they are moved often provide moments of amusement reminiscent of early slapstick comedy or those times when you meet someone on the street who is coming directly towards you and you both move in the same direction in a failed attempt to avoid each other. Worse still you might just shoulder bang the approaching innocent and each rebound from the collision. The momentum is sustained throughout and the art of precisely placing the boards and positioning them is never lost. This is everday life transformed into design and artistry. This original work comes courtesy of the company’s founders, the choreographers Jannik Elkær and Kristoffer Louis Andrup Pedersen. It all makes for a fabulously entertaining show that is rooted in the skills of contemporary dance and physical theatre. You will never cross the street in the same way again!

The Year 12 girls from Wycombe Abbey school in High Wycombe under the direction of Phoebe Francis have created a fine production of DNA by Dennis Kelly.It’s a fascinating and disturbing play which, perhaps because it deals with young people, often appears far less sinister than it really is. They are the sort of kids that could be found in any school from normal families; they just happen to have landed themselves in a mess and now have to cover up a major crime and in so doing dig an even deeper hole to get out of. Honesty in the first place might have been the easier option, but once the first cover-up is devised the web has started to be woven and the innocent victim captured in it seems too good to let go.Francis has boldly taken the script and placed it in the hands of an all-female cast, brilliantly demonstrating that it works irrespective of gender. This is not about ‘who’ people are but rather ‘what’ they are or can become. The girls, in their various roles, convincingly explore the vulnerabilities of the weak and the controlling influence of the powerful along with the effects of peer pressure, intimidation, fear and bullying. It’s a poisonous mix that seems less venomous in the hands of the young than it really is.These are not hardened criminals plotting malicious crimes, but children thrown into a world they never dreamed existed; rather like those in Lord of the Flies. There is the odd one amongst them to whom it seems to come quite naturally; the one with imaginative psychopath tendencies whose moment has arrived. Each student has clearly given careful consideration to her character providing definition that gives an insight into the person and what is going on with her beneath the suface.It's agreat choice of play and one that allows all involved to demonstate their theatrical capabilites with convincing performances all round.

Saltire Sky Theatre have lived up to all the expectations they raised following 1902, their smash hit of last year’s Fringe that won them the Broadway Baby Bobby Award and Off West End Award in the OffFest category.It was a hard act to follow, but having left the Hibs ground behind him, as far as writing is concerned, Nathan Scott-Dunn has found new turf in the Edinburgh drugs scene with his latest play Bits ‘N’ Pieces, an even more high-octane production, full of action, comedy and tragedy, which each member of the cast draws out, embraces and contributes to in abundance. Scott-Dunn also directs and appears in the show. That’s the sort of combination of roles that can often lead to disaster, but such is his talent that he carries all three off with masterly inspiration.The party is already in full swing as we enter, buy a drink at the bar and choose a seat. The performance is in the round so wherever you sit you’ll be immersed in the proceedings. The disco lights swirl and the techno music pumps out thanks to DJ Emma Hussain. Be prepared to take part and enter into conversation with the odd dealer. Once the floor is clear three friends emerge who have grown up together and are as close as brothers.Matty (Calum Manchip), Dougie (Sandy Bain) and Tommy (Nathan Scott-Dunn) recount their times together, engage in mockery, reveal dream-worlds of ambition mixed with all their failures and shortcomings. The dialogue is fast and loud. If you’re not a local, or at least from Scotland, you’ll need to tune your ear. This is full-on Leith you’re listening to. There are no compromises and it’s exhilarating. It’s the mundane banter of everyday life with all its highs and lows, of which there are many more to come in both categories, yet it is revealing and informative, fleshing out the characters and it's filled with punchy wit and rapid ripostes that provoke laugh-out-loud appreciation.Tommy is perhaps the senior member of the trio; after all he has a real job which he’s sustained for some years, unlike Dougie whose expertise lies in being a delivery boy in between periods of unemployment and idleness. Matty is the would-be ambitious one who actually makes the move to escape the confines of his life and join the RAF. No sooner is his application successful than he collides with the harsh reality of his decision and is called to Afghanistan. There’s just time for the boys to give him a send-off party. The timing coincides with the first-ever rave to be held in Usher Hall. If you don’t know it, look it up and you’ll see how outrageously ground-breaking this would be. It’s the source of much amusement.They make it to the gig, and the rest of us join in the party. But it’s not long before the whole thing goes dreadfully wrong. When the lights go down and the noise subsides, in what amounts to act two, calamitous events that reach to the heart of group loyalties and family relationships occur. We’ve already met Dougie’s mother, Mandy (Emily Drewett) and Matty’s mother (Christie Russell-Brown) but now they come into their own as full blown-characters assimilated into the core of the plot.The dark denouement reflects the outcome of the company’s research time spent with support workers within the NHS across different platforms and specialities, and their partner charity Crew 2000 ‘to ensure the script is rooted in authenticity and prevent the spread of false information’. Without preaching, the play comes with a strong message that reaches out not just to audiences but that will be heard in schools and prisons in specially developed performances and workshops.Note the awe-inspiring change to poetic metre and rhyming couplets that heightens the message towards the end. It's just one of many elements that makes Bits ‘N’ Pieces rock-solid entertainment and a stunning manifestation of the art of writing, acting and making contact with your audience. Its vibrant, visceral and vehement piece of theatre. Note also that 1902 can be seen again this year, so if you missed it in previous years you can now combine it with Bits ‘N’ Pieces to make a full night out in Leith. It’s worth every minute.

Polly Peculiar, at Greenside Nicholson Square, is a joy from beginning to end: the sort of play that under normal circumstances you might not be tempted to see. But this is the Fringe, where it’s easy to stretch the boundaries and take a risk, which is precisely what you should do with this delightful show.It’s billed as ‘an absurdist, comedic story’, which is the formal, theatrical way of saying it’s bonkers. Clues to this are inherent in the styles and works that have influenced its creation: clowning from Gecko’s Time of Your Life and Caryl Churchill’s fragmented writing in The Striker. But Polly Peculiar is an original work from the pen of Rose Wilson that takes us into a sort of Alice in Wonderland world in which we can look upon the antics and hear the musings of Polly G.Tips as she holds her tea party.The table is set with the essential teapots, cups and saucers from a bygone age, featuring, in particular, the Staffordshire-style pot in the shape of a house. There is a chair for Polly and two empty ones for the invisible guests in her imagination; an opportunity for the mind to wander in speculation as to who or what they might be. Polly engages with them, pours tea into their mouths and plays the perfect hostess. In an increasingly physical piece of theatre fantasy, she reassembles items on the floor, moves them around and has conversations with two tiny dolls from one of her pots. It’s all done very delicately and she looks delightful in her floral frock.There are deeper themes which underpin the amusing facade. Here is a woman dealing with issues of mental stability and hyper fixation with a childish staccato voice that suggests repressed development. Despite her belief in the power of her favourite drink, these are not going to be solved by just another cup of tea.Meanwhile, we can pour ourselves into this highly imaginative, poetic work and enjoy being a guest at one of the quirkiest tea parties ever held.

Two contrasting elements combine to make Rebel into a spectacular show ideally suited to the vast tent that is Underbelly’s Circus Hub on the Meadows. The obvious one is the music of David Bowie; the other is the varied programme of circus, acrobatic and aerial performances, by an international team from Australia, New Zealand and the USA.It’s an understated opening of a solo guitarist that heralds the entrance of multi-award-winner Stewart Reeve, the latter-day Aussie incarnation of the great singer himself. He opens with Suffragette City, the first in a selection of the artist’s most famous songs. Before the music can sink in, however, the stunning A-line frock coat with its tight bodice and dazzling golden lines set against black reminds us of the importance of glam and image in the man’s appearance. The costume fits perfectly and the fullness of the split skirt is shown in myriad swirls and turns. The visual is simultaneously enhanced by the vocal. Reeve emulates the distinctive and essential timbre that makes for a convincing Bowie tribute. However, as Artistic Director Elena Kirschbaum of Highwire Entertainment points out, “... with its glamour, fantasy and spectacle, Rebel aims to be more than a tribute, but to capture the aesthetic and the spirit of a performer who captivated the world across five decades”.The show is inspired by Bowie’s own words, “I want to tart rock up. I don't want to climb out of my fantasies in order to go up on stage - I want to take them on stage with me”. This show does precisely that. A display of the talents and abilities of the cast is demonstrated as the band of lead guitarist, saxophonist, drummer and keyboard player becomes the troupe that performs a range of acrobatic and aerial feats. Each display has its own song, including Space Oddity and Lazarus. A pole act is followed by hoop-spinning and a woman who ties herself in knots ascending the length of lilac material that’s just dropped from the ceiling. Together they juggle and one of them contorts herself through the legs and back of a chair. And that’s just a few of the spectacles.Meanwhile, Reeve works his way through the repertoire. There is joy and relief as the most famous songs are rolled out and we revel in Bowie’s dissection of words: fa fa fa fa fashion followed shortly by Ch-ch-changes. Let’s Dance features in the second half of the show enhanced by a costume change to a powder blue suit with a red lapel trim and - you guessed - bright red platform shoes that glisten in the lights.Reeve revels in it all and is endearing throughout, becoming everyone's hero, perhaps for more than a day.

There are very few taboo subjects left these days, but the one that will eventually come to us all still leaves many people uncomfortable. Renowned US comedy Aactor and writer Kim Kalish, however, is sufficiently undeterred to proudly present The Funny Thing About Death, tackling the subject head on, because death is a funny thing in many ways.It’s not fifty minutes of jokes about mortality, however. Instead, it is a heartfelt comedic story of personal grief and the means of living with it. When people ask, “Are you OK?” she suggests that they are only giving the sentence which in their head continues along the lines of, “I hope so, because I really don’t want to hear that you are still grieving the loss of your twenty-three-year-old boyfriend, because I don’t know how to handle it or what to say”. She goes on to assert that it really is OK not to be OK, especIally if the love of your life has just died in an accident at work.It’s a heavy matter and there are moments of tear-jerking sadness as she weaves stories about herself, her family and friends, joyful trips she took with her boyfriend, their experiences together and the songs and places that will always remind her of him. Interrupting this potentially heartbreaking saga are descriptions of people, incidents and observations that add a good measure of humour to the proceedings. Death is not just a funny business to deal with, it can also be surrounded by comic and sometimes hilarious events, from visits to sex shops, to impulsive buying and a bizarrely-timed karaoke, along with people whose amusing idiosyncrasies persist even in the darkest of times. Welcome to the family whose multinational mix is full of stereotypes that just happen to be true. There’s nothing like a room full of Jews and Italians to lift your spirits, even if it's only temporarily and often rather annoyingly.While we’re on the subject, Kalish is based in California, but as they say, "You can take the girl out of New York, but you can't take New York out of the girl”. Hence, she’s brassy and bold, yet enormously endearing and full of anecdotes. She’s honest and open, shares her deepest feeling, gives in to emotions and wears her heart upon her sleeve. She moves around a lot and we follower her wherever she goes, engaging with her words, waiting for the pause and relishing the punch line.“If you didn’t laugh you’d cry” is a popular maxim, but in Kalish’s world these are not an ‘either/or’. There’s room for both and each is an essential to life (and death). It feels something of a privilege to hear her story, but it helps her well-being to tell it and it can helps us. At the end she speaks words of wisdom that we know to be true but often fail to observe. Ultimately it is a message of hope, and where would it be without humour?

Fitry is an intriguing one-man show from Faso Danse Théâtre, Brussels, featuring Serge Aimé Coulibaly as the performer. He is also the company’s Artistic Director and Choreographer of this work.The piece could be entirely abstract; a combination of visual imagery, movement, sounds and music encourage the mind to wander across a variety of possible interpretations. A classical orchestral piece marks the opening, sounding like the start of a pageant or something pompous and ceremonial. In contrast, Coulibaly sits on a chair in casual off-white clothes in darkness, except for the projected white shapes that move across his face and around the stage. He stands to adopt a cruciform shape and has outbursts of laughter gradually moving to the floor where erratic hand and arm gestures extend and contract while beating around his head. It’s a style that dominates the performance as the music changes, finally ending with African song. As the images move from waves to a seashore he begins to use more of the space, deepening the sense of travel. The journeying motif is strong in sequences that in fact are choreographed to show a lonely man standing at the crossroads. Perhaps the outstreched arms were not a cross, but a signpost pointing north and south for this man is torn between his commitment to Africa and Europe, struggling to stay afloat in a changing world and amidst the trials of life. It’s a message that is easily read into the work even if it is not always clear, enhanced by the strong physicality of his movements and repeated motifs.The different elements are of interest in themselves. Obviously the dance and gesturing, but also the contrasting choices of music. The visuals, in shades from grey to white, stand out and have a fascination of their own. What is less clear is the extent to which they harmonise, support each other and contribute holistically.

What if the characters you created in your plays were to come to life and challenge the lives and circumstances you created for them?Unseen Shepard finds Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Sam Shepard reclined on his chaise. This is to be the last night of his life. Wanting only peace and quiet he instead has to suffer the torments of a host of characters demanding that he rewrite their roles and take them out of the misery they have endured for years. Among them are writers, cowboys, abusive husbands, punk rockers and long-suffering women. He protests that he can do nothing; what is written is written and cannot be changed. But they put up a fight and even argue among themselves recreating scenes from the plays in which they are trapped.Los Angeles-based Eagle Rock Theatre Company was started in 2019 by veteran stage and screen actor Nic D’Avirro and actor-writer Matt Braaten who features in this play along with Matt Foyer and Cameron Meyer. Their intention was to provide a launch pad for new writing. D’Avirro died unexpectedly while planning for the 2021 Fringe and this year's production is dedicated to his memory. Unseen Shepard is a fine example of an imaginative and tightly focussed script that allows actors to fully develop their characters. Martin Jago directs with precision and the cast give compelling and impassioned performances with emotionally nuanced moments.The concept behind Unseen Shepard is a fascinatingly surreal providing for a penetrating exploration of a writer’s legacy and responsibilities.

There are many rags-to-riches stories around but probably not another that follows a young heroin addict’s journey from death’s door to the gates of Buckingham Palace. Heroin to Hero is a solo performance by Tony McGeever who has taken Paul Boggie’s acclaimed autobiography of the same name and turned it into a confessional play. The story is told in chronological order, making it easy to follow and in so doing sequences the highs and lows of his life. Growing up on the Craigentinny estate in Edinburgh he was introduced to heroin a the age of 18. He held down his job for a while but the drug increasingly took over his life, drained his bank account, caused massive weight loss and destroyed his self-esteem. The only thing that went up with the heroin was his level of debt. One day it all changed when he discovered the Cyrenians charity who, after thirteen attempts to quit, finally put him on the path to recovery. With their help he physically and mentally confronted himself. With his nose to the bedroom mirror he said, “Don't ever ask for heroin again because you're not getting it”. Aged 30 he managed to join the Scots guards and secure his future.McGeever relates all of this and many more events and incidents in Boggie’s life. Much of it is straightforward narrative, but the Dundee Rep and National Theatre actor turns it into a tale packed with emotional vigour, capturing the distress and discomfort of not just taking heroin but of tearing your family apart, of losing out on life and betraying those you love. But it is matched with the exuberance and sense of well-being that comes with reconciliation and the triumph of having overcome tragedy. Both extremes are captivating in his portrayal of what Boggie experienced.The only things that perhaps detract are the cluttered stage and an overly zealous sound and lighting plot, that goes to excess in an attempt to highlight and support the script and performance.That aside it’s a moving piece of theatre that serves not only to entertain but also contributes to saving lives through Boggie’s commitment to work in prisons and schools in the belief that if he can do it, so can others.

People can be sensitive about how they are described. Arthur Bostrom, famous for his role as Officer Crabtree in ‘Allo ‘Allo, raises this point in Are You Being Murdered? It’s his new solo show based around the classic British sitcom, Are You Being Served? and is written by David Semple of Father Brown fame.His character, James Button, sees himself as a supporting artist and despises the term ‘extra’, after all, could the show go on without him? He’s clearly not the leading man; that might come one day, but for now, he’s glad of the work and happy ‘to be invisible, inscrutable, and not to pull focus from the stars’. Thus he swans around the hat counter at the famous store, interacting with the celebrities, going up and down in the lift and making observations about the proceedings. We meet Powder-puff Pam, Huge-hands Henry, Warm-up Willie, Glory-hole Graham until eventually events take a surprising turn when another guy on the set is mysteriously murdered and Button finds himself playing the amateur sleuth in a bid to get to the bottom of what’s happened.On a delightfully cosy set that is warmly lit, Bostrom cuts an imposing figure at 1.93m., but it is the precise enunciation, perfect projection and well-timed delivery that stands out. There’s also a delicate campness, that is essential to anything that hails from John Inman territory, which adds to the fun, and there are a good few laugh-out-loud moments in a show that sustains its humour throughout.It would be possible to enjoy this performance without knowing about Are You Being Served?, but much of it would be lost and the appeal is in relishing a genre from a bygone age and reliving the style of the show, but it’s by no means ground-breaking.

As the crescendo of complaints and controversy was rising over the comedy circuit I was persuaded to abandon the safe confines of the theatre category and go in at the deep end, so to speak, by seeing Elaine Miller’s Viva Your Vulva. She’s the one who’s been spat at in the street, received abusive comments and had some fellow comics turn their back on her.What is all the fuss about I wondered? Miller’s is no run-of-the-mill show. In her professional capacity, she sees hundreds of women who have issues ‘down below’. Many come reluctantly, in fear and deeply embarrassed, so the first part of her job is to put them at ease and a few laughs don’t go wrong in that situation. This show, and Gusset Grippers that preceded it, was written because she was shocked to find how many women knew so little about their bodies, from naming the parts to being confused about the difference between their vagina and their vulva and all the layers in between. I’m told that when I say ‘women’ I mean cis women. In an interview with the Scottish Daily Express, Miller pointed out that her show ‘is about anyone with female anatomy, including trans men and non-binary individuals’ This has somehow managed to upset those she doesn’t include. "I think my crime is that it's only about female people and I don't mention trans women at all because they are not relevant to the topic,” she said. It’s rather like going to a wine-tasting and complaining that nothing was said about beer, though that analogy will probably get me into trouble as well. As a gay cis man I didn’t feel in any way offended, marginalised or excluded by the content of her show. And why should I be, just because it's not about me? Instead I laughed at lines that made reference to (cis?) men and the humour with which she manages to teach. She took me to places I’ve never been and will never venture. I am the richer for what I’ve learned and I had a jolly good laugh too. I’ve used loads of visual aids in my time and taught thousands of classes and this is a first-rate lesson that conveys more in an hour than weeks of sex-ed in school. It’s direct, clearly explained, ingeniously illustrated and very funny. She also makes herself available in the bar afterwards for anyone to follow up on what she said.Does she know what she’s talking about? You bet. You don’t need to be highly qualified in anything to be a comedian unless your aim is to educate, enlighten and inform about a specialised topic, which is what Miller does. She’s a member of Pelvic, Obstetric and Gynaecological Physiotherapy, the Health and Care Professions Council, the Association for Continence Advice, The Pelvic Floor Society, the International Continence Society and a Fellow of the Chartered Society of Physiotherapists. It’s a rare talent that can unite accumulated expertise, a life-time’s devotion to women’s health and the ability to perform comedy into a show that both entertains and instructs.

What happens when you train for something your whole life, only to fail at the crucial moment? This question is the stimulus behind False Start, from acclaimed French-German theatre-maker Ingrid von Wantoch, now based in Brussels, who weaves music and bodies into tableaux vivants with her cast of Jeanne Dailler, Pierre Gervais, Ninon Perez, and Laurent Staudt.What started as a five-minute display for runners at a marathon in 2018 has since evolved into a 55-minute show. Using elite sport as the means of opening up the realm of performance pressure, four actor/dancers limber up and take their places on the start line of an athletics track. Their dreams are in place, the adrenaline is pumping and their eyes are focussed as they wait for a single gunshot that could set them on the sprint to glory. As the bullet is released the sound ignites their movement, but it’s immediately followed by a second shot signifying a false start. By a fraction of a second, one athlete’s hopes are dashed and the others must reconfigure for another attempt.False Start is a very specific and highly focused work. The eerie opening soundscape devised by Marc Appart creates a sense of foreboding, enhanced by Jan Maertens’ lighting design. Satu Peltoniemi’s costumes with the floor markings give a clear indication of the event, its location and who the characters are. For a modern dance piece it is unusually non-abstract. Instead, the choreography, in collaboration with Nadine Ganase, is explicit and filled with clarity as it explores the minutiae of the athlete’s movements, impressing them upon us in repeated motifs and floor patterns as variations up a theme. The effect is to create a fascinating kaleidoscope of actions, As the images change so does the music and the tension ebbs and flows, at times interspersed with comic poignancy.Although rooted in the heartache and disappointment of a track event False Start is also a metaphor for life and as such takes on a depth beyond its surface portrayal.

The highly anticipated world premiere of Irvine Welsh's Porno catches up with the lives of Renton, Sickboy, Begbie & Spud, fifteen years after their appearance in TRAINSPOTTING.So what have they been up to? The short answer is not a lot, which is perhaps why the play is high on dialogue and low on storyline. Of course, it’s the verbal exchanges which are the hallmark of Welsh’s works. The broad and uncompromising accents become the outstanding feature of the play, making it harshly realistic and for some, difficult to comprehend. Understanding every word is not essential, however. With such focused delivery as found among this ensemble, the meaning is always clear. It might not be soothing but it’s a real treat to hear.Begbie (Chris Gavin) is out of prison and his opening monologues give some background to the situation which existed at the end of the first play. He’d been inside for the manslaughter of someone he’d knifed in a confusion of friendship and betrayal. It should have been murder, but in true gangster fashion, he rigged the crime scene. The gang were supposed to have amassed several grand from a deal, but Renton (Scott Kylett) stole his mate’s share and disappeared to Amsterdam. Meanwhile, Sick Boy (Simon Weir) has inherited the Port Sunlight pub with a large upstairs room that he deems would make the perfect porn studio. Fortunately for him Lizzie (Lynette Beaton), the daughter of the police officer with whom he's come to an understanding, already rehearses upstairs with the local amdram musical society and is happy to take on some extra acting work.The remaining characters, like their fellow actors, give strong performances with clear-cut characterisations. Renton (Scott Kyle), Spud (Kevin Murphy) and Knox (Jim Brown)have their own subplots, but nothing complex or profound emerges from them, despite the treachery and double-crossing that ushers in the denouement. Most significantly, however, the in-yer-face intensity that should accompany this play is lost in the overall size of the theatre and on the vast stage. Even the bar looks lonely and isolated on it.Felix O’Brien’s direction cannot overcome these obstacles and Irvine Welsh's Porno, which doesn’t live up to its predecessor, is the poorer for it.

Award-winning writer and actor Rob Ward returns to the Fringe with his latest creation The MP, Aunty Mandy & Me. His previous play Gypsy Queen did the rounds to considerable acclaim and now his talent has been recognised in a Peter Shaffer commission through the National Theatre to write a play for Leicester’s Curve Theatre.A man with a fixation for railway engines is likely to have other issues in life. The Mallard did make 126 mph in 1928, creating the steam speed record that has never been surpassed, but running around your sitting room with a Hornby model of it at Dom’s age seems a little excessive. He’s also a would-be presence on social media, if only people would respond to him. On the gay scene, of which there isn’t any in his quiet northern village, he’s not helped by his name which is contrary to his being a sub. He’d love to be part of the big-city gay set, but he doesn’t live there and his levels of anxiety and ineptitude would probably prevent him from going out anyway. Then there’s his mum, who hilariously must be the only woman to have a gay son and for her to be the one who takes the MDMA, the Aunty Mandy of the title, as if Dom doesn’t have enough to cope with.Now the news has come through that his local railway station is to be closed and he becomes the outraged, furious and devastated Dom who feels compelled to seek the support of his MP in a battle to save the line. To his amazement the man turns out to be a friend of Dorothy and the one who will turn his world upside down. He is soon working as his intern and engaging in sexual activities that he had never imagined in his wildest dreams. Added to the mix is a bisexual member of the campaign team who further complicates matters. And all this in Brinton!The tight staging, which makes for an intimate production, nevertheless allows space for locations to be established. There is a soundscape that enhances the moods and imagery and a fabulous lighting design that uses colour to give added intensity to some of the wilder moments, especially between the clubbing and bedroom scenes. Two large diffusers either side of the stage provide stunning effects with purple-blue hues creating a haunting surreal aura and the impression that Dom, in his imagination, is entering into the glam world of celebs. Thanks to Will Monks and Lain Armstrong for thisThese effects all contribute to the milieu, but this is Ward's show. His clear enunciation and Wirral twang make him instantly appealing and the voices he creates for the various characters capture the essence of them. He also establishes an air of mystery as to where all this is going, varying the pace and balancing narrative with conversation interjected with a good measure of wit.The MP, Aunty Mandy & Me is a gripping story brilliantly told.

From House of Cards writer Bill Cain and The Shark is Broken director Guy Masterson, 9 Circles is a brilliantly performed, harrowing psychological thriller that would be shocking as a work of fiction.That it is based on the real-life story of Steven Dale Green, a repatriated US Army Private accused of war crimes, makes it all the more shocking and distressing.Conceptually based on Dante’s 9 Circles of Hell, Private Daniel Reeves (Joshua Collins) is a conscript to the army who would never have passed the normal entry requirements given his previous convictions in his home town of Midland Texas, but the US is desperate for soldiers to serve in Iraq. Military training has successfully turned this teenager from the middle of nowhere into a coldblooded killing machine with unquestioning devotion to his oath of allegiance. For him, everyone is the enemy and he would kill them all if he had his way, including civilian men, women and children. Any sense of humanity, morality, and right and wrong with which he entered into service has been rapidly eroded. Now he finds himself facing discharge from the company to which he is devoted and subsequently a trial for a string of appalling war crimes that he can hardly comprehend. He is trapped in the progression of circles that will determine his ultimate fate.Collins gives a stunning, tightly focussed performance. He captures the militarily drilled persona of Reeves, a young man in an alien world that he barely understands, given to simplistic interpretations of circumstances; handling them with no-nonsense if often misguided directness. “A personality disorder can be an advantage in certain circumstances”, he says. But while it might provide some insight into the awkward logic he espouses it won’t be enough to save him, despite the efforts of others. Daniel Bowerbank appears with militaristic precision as the Lieutenant who sets the scene for what is to follow and later appears as the Pastor who out of his own troubled past attempts to bring comfort and salvation to Reeves. Samara Neely Cohen as the Female Lawyer, Shrink and Prosecution creates three distinct roles that illustrate some of the forces that come to bear on Reeves; the stern, the sympathetic and the aggressive. Completing the cast, David Calvitto gives two equally impassioned performances in which he encapsulates the legal mind and the manner of traditional courtroom delivery as the Army Attorney and Civilian Lawyer. Between them, they highlight the conundrums, contradictions and hypocrisies of war.Credit has to be given to the rest of the team: Set Design by Duncan Henderson; Lighting design by Tom Turner; Sound & Composition by Jack Arnold and Movement by Mark Baldwin OBE. Between them, they provide the setting for 9 Circles which is stunning in its haunting simplicity. A mood of inescapable impending tragedy is created as Reeves is encircled in rings of light that trap him as certainly as the events themselves.Although we are reminded many times of the brutally mortal acts Reeves committed, seen through his eyes it’s difficult not to feel a degree of sympathy for the boy who left life in the desert oilfields of Texas to greet death in the desert oilfields of Iraq.

If the title sounds familiar you’re probably thinking of the film, In the Name of the Father, but you’d be on the right track because In the Name of the Son deals with the same subject.In 1975 Gerry Conlon and three others were convicted of exploding a bomb in Guildford, Surrey which killed five people and injured many more as The Troubles spread from Northern Ireland to the UK mainland. The men, who became known as The Guildford Four, were sentenced to life in prison. Had the death penalty been an option for the judge they would have been hanged. They were released on appeal after fifteen years when the court found the convictions to be ‘unsafe and unsatisfactory’. Shaun Blaney’s stunning solo show, examines the years following Conlon’s release from prison, in which he had the film made about him, toured the world, squandered all the millions pounds in compensation he received and became addicted to crack-cocaine, before finally quitting the habit, returning to Belfast and becoming a pioneer for victims of miscarriages of justice.Blaney runs the gamut of characters Conlon met in those years, using his ability with accents and mannerisms to portray Daniel Day Lewis, posh English judges, American senators, actors, producers and directors, his mother and girlfriend and the many Irish friends and acquaintances he made. But it’s his emotional range that really brings the chronological telling of the story home, once he rises from the death bed to which cancer had consigned him, and relates so many tales and encounters. Conlon’s father had been convicted as one of the Maguire Seven in Birmingham in another miscarriage of justice, but died in jail before his exoneration came through. Gerry Conlon never forgave himself for getting his father mixed up in that. His performance, therefore, is full of celebratory, joyful and happy moments which he contrasts with the arguments he had, the ever-present guilt he carried concerning his father and the struggles he endured with relationships and facing his mother. In the midst of this he also generates some good laughs. This emotional roller-coaster is accompanied by a fitting soundscape that also conveys and accompanies the various moods along with the lighting. Packed with moving moments, it’s a remarkable performance that brings tears to the eyes.

Fringe-first award winner Joe Sellman-Leava (Labels, Monster) is back at the Fringe with his new work Fanboy in which he explores his relationship with his past and future self. It’s a fascinating piece that is full of surprises and which he describes as a ‘love-hate letter to pop culture and nostalgia’.He starts with an introduction to the fanboy species in the well-captured voice of David Attenborough, the first of several famous people who will emerge during the course of the play. The specimen in front of us is Joe and while Sellman-Leava doesn’t look as nerdy as some of that ilk, he has many of the essential elements. In his teens he tried to hide his disposition. In his twenties he assures us he owned it, but the issue is that he’s never grown out of it. Hence in his thirties he is still obsessed with Nintendo, Star Wars and A Muppets Christmas Carol.In the loneliness of his childhood bedroom he begins to sort through some old stuff and finds a dusty video tape. To his surprise it reveals his days as a young boy and he begins to interact with it. This begins one of the most brilliantly synchronised performances between an actor and technology that requires impeccable timing, co-ordination and cuing. Technical Designer Dylan Howells achieves this and Joe engages in conversation with him on the sound and lighting deck at the back of the room, speaks with his younger self and also shares his story with us in direct address. We discover the excitement and disappointments of his friendship with Wayne, his relationship with Gaya and uncle Obe. In a twist to reality, Trump and Farage impinge on his life and he has to face the rise of ideologies he cannot espouse and the realisation that fandom applies as much to the living as the imagined. Super heroes exist out there in political arenas but they are not for him.This is a very personal show, but it never becomes indulgent. There is openness in his divulgences that are told with honesty and much humour. The script has literary qualities with penetrating metaphors that provide depth of meaning and insights. Beneath the surface lurk issues of obsession and escapism, loneliness and mental health. It’s a penetrating overview of life, looking back at what we were, coming to terms with what we are; wondering what we might be. And what if we had done things differently? Can we remain in the safety of childhood memories, hiding from the world, or must we move on and face a new reality? Does a time come when pop-culture and fandom is no longer sufficient to deal with the emotional trials of adulthood and relationships.As always, Sellman-Leava shines as the hero of this piece, but perhaps more than ever this work reflects the imaginative contribution of others: Director Yaz Al-Shaater, whose film experience is clearly evident, Dramaturg Lauren Mooney and lets say it again for Howells; the team that has made this innovative, multi-disciplinary show.But don’t think it’s all about technology. This is an emotionally charged, joyful yet heart-rending piece of theatre. Take your tissues if you are as vulnerable as I found myself to be.

The story of the theatrical Dame has had many incarnations and they all revolve around a fairly standard trope. The Transfiguration of Mrs Lamen, written, directed and produced by Alex J. Yates, is no exception, despite asserting itself as a ‘metatheatrical’ work that ‘draws from the very lifeblood of theatre’.So here we go again! The action takes place backstage on the night of an annual London pantomime. Darren Machin takes on the role and we find him in the dressing room. A make-up table is placed in front of an imposing 6ft x 4ft mirror, with a bright surround of LED bulbs that illuminate not just the ageing Dame’s face but also much of the stage. Looking tired and worn with messy makeup she continues her preparations, which consist mostly of swigging sherry from a bottle; a misguided confidence boost that might give her the courage to go on stage, though we never reach that point. What follows is a fairly standard lament, in which he bemoans his lot in life and complains about almost everything that has befallen him, leaving him feeling undervalued and underappreciated.Proceedings are brightened up with the entrance of Charlie Thurston, who gives a delightfully natural performance as the stagehand. The conversation turns to the Dame’s inability to remember her lines, the need to finish getting into costume and the risk the theatre is taking by allowing him anywhere near the stage. The huge underskirt and frock are put on covering a rather uncomfortable view of him in tights and all is set for the curtain. But the conversations go on and attention swings to the stagehand’s life story as much as the Dame’s. Woven into this is the appearance of a beggar who makes couple of appearances, intruding into the conversation and causing some concern before ending up in dressing room six, but that’s another rather unclear story.Perhaps that’s the bit the company refers to as ‘Pinteresque, with moments of surreality, and a wealth of dark humour’, because it won’t be found elsewhere in this rather predictable and humdrum take on the pantomime Dame which might be one more interpretation to add to the collection for aficionados of the genre.

Have you had the experience of sitting through a play and thinking, “If I’d known that was how it was going to end I’d have paid far more attention to all the details in the script”? It’s often followed by, “I’d love to see it again now I know how it ends”. Sniff at Theatre503 is one of those.Here is an outwardly very simple play that has traditional theatre elements, while exuding modernity. It has a plot and a storyline that becomes increasingly mysterious, complex and riveting as it gradually unfolds. It is serious, yet full of well-timed humour; its sequel could be a fascinating detective drama, for in the play all the evidence needed for the investigation is laid bare, except at the time we don’t realise it. It takes place in real time, yet has flashbacks that inform and enhance the current situation. It’s clever, claustrophobic and comic, full of surprises and not anything you might anticipate from the information given about it.The play’s location is a pub in a fictional small city on the outskirts of London. Alex has arranged to meet his girlfriend there. His intention is to propose to her. He arrives with the ring and sets up the table with a bottle of bubbly and some geraniums. He is very nervous and might even lack the courage to go ahead with it. None of this is shown but is revealed in conversation with Liam whom he meets when he decides to visit the toilet before she arrives, which is where the action of the play is set.The pub is Liam’s local. He knows everyone there and seems particularly at home in this extremely insalubrious gentleman’s room. He has two major addictions: online gambling and cocaine which he snorts and generously shares with Alex. He has his reasons for the latter. Hence he is more than hard-up with accumulated debts, having frittered away what little he ever had on his vices. His laddish speech, dress and manner are in marked contrast to Alex’s suited and booted appearance that matches his elevated position in advertising. Alex has a top job; Liam has odd-jobs.Do they know each other? Have they met before? Has Alex forgotten or would he rather not remember? Whatever the case Liam seems to know more about Alex than might be expected from a coincidental encounter in a toilet. Liam dominates the situation and how he draws Alex into an unexpected world that makes fascinating, exciting, gripping and chilling theatre.The play is by Gabriel Fogarty-Graveson who also plays Liam. Alex is played by Felix Grainger and the role of Bloke, who pops in for as long as it takes to piss, is taken by director Ben Purkiss. They are all part of Make It Beautiful Theatre Company, a London-based collective with a passion for dark comedy. Collectively they know their stuff. Two commanding performances are sustained for the sixty-five minutes running time, with each actor establishing character from the outset that encapsulates their contrasting circumstances and statuses in life. Purkiss, meanwhile, makes excellent use of the tight space with movement that enhances the dialogue and demonstrations of power and control.The Company has one 5-star hit show, The CO-OP, under its belt already. This premier night performance suggests that with a few tweaks they are well on their way to another. It's a production not to be sniffed at.

Director Max Lewendel has taken Theatre of the Absurd to a new level in his engrossing production of Eugène Ionesco’s The Lesson in a translation by Donald Watson at the Southwark Playhouse, presented by Icarus Theatre Collective.When considering how to approach the play Lewendel had at his disposal the newly installed Creative Captioning technology, supported by Arts Council England. Its main purpose is to ensure that every performance is accessible for deaf and hard of hearing audiences, but it opens up a host of design and performance opportunities. It allows for the script to be projected onto surfaces anywhere on the stage as it is spoken and enables the appearance of graphics. These fit in perfectly with the Absurdist concept of words and images having a life of their own, reaching a point at which they become threatening and overwhelm the characters.The remarkable projection design for the play is the result of hours of painstaking work by Ben Glover who created in the order of a thousand captions which integrate with the actor’s words, the focused sound design by Matt Downing and the lighting design by Stevie Carty which with subtlety enhances the increasingly dark substance of the play. Their combined efforts result in some 1500 cues operated from the deck in a very busy eighty-five minute production. Pupil (Hazel Caulfield) arrives at the flat of Professor (Jerome Ngonadi), and in the simple act of ringing the doorbell sets the amusing and captivating tone of what is to follow. She is eventually greeted by the dour housekeeper Marie (Julie Stark). The contrast of dispositions could not be greater. Caulfield is the ebullient and excited student, thrilled to be attending her lesson and given to bouts of giggling. Is it that Marie knows what is to come, that Stark remains unmoved, po-faced, detached and matter-of-fact?In comparison to Pupil, Ngonadi, at least initially, is calm, rational and, as might be expected, professorial. But their demeanours gradually reverse as he becomes increasingly irate at the girl’s inability to grasp what he is saying, and she, beset with a toothache, cowers into her shell as his rage increases. The script is repetitive and full of potential pitfalls but Ngonadi retains control throughout, highlighting the nonsensical lines with variations in tempo and intonation. The Professor, however, increasingly descends into manic diatribes that build up to the tragic conclusion.The exchanges between Pupil and Professor take place in one room that is deceptively simple; a dining table a couple of chairs, a bookcase and a large cupboard. Christopher Hone’s set however houses secrets that are revealed as the action proceeds. No teacher is complete without a chalkboard and, as the wooden items open up a room full of surfaces emerges to receive captions and on which The Professor can write. Costume designer Isabella Van Braeckel clads him in a traditional academic gown over a dull brown jacket, trousers and waistcoat. Marie’s clothes are similarly reserved, both of them dressed in contrast to the bright girlish colours of Pupil’s coat, skirt, blouse and cardigan.The production captures the rhythms of Absurdist writing and the cast delivers with sincerity and due seriousness, thus heightening the comic intensity of the work and its surreal nature. The opening motif repeats at the end, so that in accordance with Absurdist style the work comes full circle. It’s a neat and satisfying conclusion to an immensely rewarding production.

Set in Chester in 1645 as England was ravaged by the Civil War, Offered Up, at the Liverpool’s Royal Court Studio Theatre is a commentary on the political and social life of the period and a tale of personal survival that resonates today. Alfie Heywood creates a period effect with his functional fixed set in the form of a half-timbered building that is the entrance and serving area of the local inn and also a family home. It fits well with the tables and chairs arrangement that forms the seating in what would be the front stalls and it would not have been amiss for director Paul Goetzee to allow the action to spill over into this area to escape the confines of the narrow stage area and heighten its intimacy. Costumes complete the period atmosphere and the opening sound of gunfire reminds us that these are dangerous times, with towns and villages being the battlegounds of the forces who fight for either King Charles or Cromwell. It's a country where members of families and communities often find themselves with divided loyalties.Wilmas (Ben Tiramani) is a devout man who was bereaved of his wife and now does all he can to protect his daughter Rosamund (Katy Metheringham) from the hands of men who would defile her. She god-fearingly goes about her domestic and accounting duties, the latter allowing references to the economically hard times in which they all live, involving shortages and rising prices. She has strongly held views and within the confines of the respect she must afford her father, is also something of a rebel. Indeed she does at times overstep those bounds. She has all the makings of a woman who is not to be argued with, a status already achieved by Jennet (Helen Carter). Injured in the opening distant skirmish she arrives at the inn seeking first aid, food and drink which at times she secures at gun-point.This no-nonsense woman has survived life on the highways and gives the appearance of someone who would fit nicely into a wild-west movie. She also has a rather confusing fraudulent money-making scheme up her sleeve around which most of the play eventually revolves. Just as they settle into co-existence Thomas (Harvey Robinson) appears on the scene. Proclaiming himself a priest, he seems ill at ease with the piety of his office and highly suspect from the moment he enters. There follows a series of twists and turns, many of which are predictable, along with revelations that are not always devastatingly remarkable and some situations that are at times a little far-fetched. The characters, however, are well-drawn and it takes very little time to know what to expect from them.Tiramani captures the enfeebled status of a man struggling to connect with his daughter and live with the loss of his wife while trying to make a living. In a reversal of traditional expectations, Carter’s Jennet is everything Wilmas is not: unafraid, challenging, ruthless and determined to stand up for herself. Robinson deftly rings the changes that come with the alterations in his role, at times being thoroughly creepy. Metherington superbly captures the puritanical spirit of a virtuous maiden with the confidence that stems from her faith and the knowledge that her life is safe in the hands of God. This is a very impressive professional debut for her that in many respects holds the play together.In Offered Up, playwright Joe Matthew-Morris demonstrates that the very structure of a stratified society inevitably leads to increasing economic disparity and the exploitation of those at the bottom by the minority at the top who have privilege and power. Sexual abuse, religious and moral hypocrisy and male domination have been rampant throughout history.

Stunning from beginning to end The Convert is perhaps the most remarkable piece of theatre ever staged at Above The Stag in Vauxhall and that is no disrespect to the many fine productions that have graced this venue. This work, however, is in a league of its own.The latest in high-resolution LED technology forms a seamless screen that fills the rear wall of the theatre. We have entered The Facility; a dystopian world that even Orwell might have found hard to imagine. The display is like a giant console that might be used to play games, divided into six sections, but here the results of body and brain scans can be seen along with a heartbeat; the sort of stuff that might be observed in any hospital for the benefit of patients, but this is not designed with them in mind. The other cells contain hair-raising material that gives the game away. Their messages portend the darkness that is to come. A brief history of Eugen Steinach is rolled out, telling of his post-WW1 attempts to change the sexual orientation of homosexual men by testicular transplants. We are introduced to the vocabulary of further techniques used in pursuit of conversion: Electric Shock; Emetic Drugs; Masturbatory Reconditioning; Gender Realignment; Ice Pick Lobotomies and Chemical Castration. It's stomach-churning before the play even begins.The great screen is just one aspect of the overall vision for The Convert in which the collaboration of creatives is evident throughout. George J C Reeve’s video designs are a work of art in themselves and reach their own climax towards the end that heralds the denouement. His achievements harmonise with an equally imaginative sound design by Paul Gavin and lighting design by Joe Thomas. The clinically simple set by David Shields is enhanced by each of these elements to a create dark, brooding atmosphere in futuristic style. It could be a spaceship, but instead is simply The Facility with two spartan beds that seem more akin to mortuary slabs and an interview table electrically wired to encourage compliant answers and correct responses.In the outside world, society requires people to conform and live up to its expectations. Deviation from the norms is unacceptable and deviants such as homosexuals must be ‘corrected’. Hence Alix (Nick Mower) and Marcus (Sam Goodchild) find themselves participants in activities of The Facility, subject to questioning, interrogation, indoctrination and torture. Conducting all of this is the Arbiter, played by the play’s author Ben Kavanaugh. The terms of their incarceration are simple: be cured and return from whence they came; fail and be sent to the Other Place, separated forever from family and friends. Mower, in his professional debut, appears as a schoolboy trying to please his teacher, whilst knowing all the time that what his teaching is telling him contradicts everything he believes to be true, right down to his own existence and nature. He portrays the inner torment as much as he demonstrates the agony of the physical abuse; a performance that is powerful, yet full of sensitivity; rebellious yet accepting. Marcus has been in The Facility for some time; he’s lost track of how long. Goodchild plays the experienced, more knowing inmate, guiding Alix through events, leading discussions and encouraging Alix to do well, yet also manifesting his vulnerability. They are well-matched cellmates. On the surface, Kavanagh shows the Arbiter to be a reasonable, almost charming man, at times given to humour, but his true character comes out when faced with non-compliance and disagreement. Then his vicious and brutal nature takes over and we see him for the bully he truly is.Director Gene David Kirk has created a triumph with the harrowing content of The Convert. It's not easy to watch, but he has devised an the experience that is breathtakingly rewarding. I spent the interval feeling completely numb, as though I too were a captive in The Facility. It’s chilling, frightening and hair-raising; remarkable for its immediacy and the sustained performances of its cast; for a script that remains tightly focussed, unwaveringly leading us along a path of unending doom before suddenly turning on itself with twists worthy of a detective story. Kirk engineers every moment of this to maximum effect.Is there light at the end of the tunnel or just a vast black hole; is there hope or endless despair? What will become of Alix and Marcus and what will be left of them? Finding those answers is a must and they might be what you expect. There is only one way to find out. You simply must see this play.

Howard Brenton’s new play Cancelling Socrates at Jermyn Street Theatre is a fascinating piece that transports us to classical Greece in a consideration of the circumstances that surrounded the fate of Socrates. Although steeped in the period much of the dialogue resonates through the ages and hints at the politics of today whilst remaining sufficiently detached so as not to provide a commentary on specific contemporary issues in a way that would date it for future generations. Its timelessness combined with modern relevance makes it particularly appealing. Many of those we currently hold in high esteem were often less well-regarded in their own day. Socrates (Jonathan Hyde), whom we now revere as the founder of western philosophy, despite his having left no written records of his ideas and beliefs, was a man who attracted both devotees and enemies. The latter, in the person of the poet Meletus and a few others, brought charges against the philosopher of corrupting youth, worshipping false gods and failure to worship in accordance with the state religion. It is this trial, his conviction and death sentence that are woven into the portrayal of his domestic life and his debates with Euthyphro (Robert Mountford) who is also in court, bringing a charge against his father. The judicial proceedings are held off-stage with only the cries of the crowd and third-person reports indicating key moments in the decision-making process. In Act 2 Mountford takes on the role of Gaoler, with a stunning change of accent and demeanour; the two parts testify to his skill and versatility as an actor and ability to create strong, clearly defined characters with considerable appeal. Hyde, in a logical, distinguished and at times other-wordly performance of the philosopher, relishes enticing both Euthyphro and the Gaoler into debates about truth, democracy, religion and the law, posing conundrums that are clearly beyond them.If ancient Greece is seen as a man’s world then this is clearly reflected in the play. In clearly supporting roles Sophie Ward and Hannah Morrish very much play second fiddle to the leading men. Each does so with style and conviction as Aspasia, mistress to Socates and Xanthipe his wife, respectively. They are very different in their concerns and attitudes, contrasting involvement in political debate and ambition with homely and motherly priorities. The substance of their discussions, however, occupies a far lower stratum from that of the men and they are overwhelmed by the centrality of the male leads. The Jermyn Street Theatre’s artistic director, Tom Littler, has adopted a straightforward and stolid approach to the play with no surprises. The set and costumes by Issy Van Braeckel reflect the period. The shabby outfit of Socrates would be worthy of John the Baptist, another man out on a limb, while the other costumes reflect their wearer’s status in society. Their realism, however, seems a little overstated within the more symbolic set of three white pillars and row of frieze. William Reynolds provides the standard lighting most of the play requires but he has some artistic moments in the dream sequences as do sound designers Max Pappenheim and Ali Taie. Cancelling Socrates is thoroughly enjoyable and frequently amusing. It’s a delightful departure from most contemporary drama, offering ease of access into the life of one of the world’s greatest thinkers at the level of a beginner’s guide.

Shakespeare knew what it took to pen a romantic tragedy when he wrote Romeo and Juliet and hence carefully structured all the ingredients to meet the demands of the genre and create a fulfilling theatrical experience. There are moments that require the willing suspension of disbelief but overall it is a coherent work that delivers what it promises. The same cannot be said for Rachel Garnet’s Starcrossed, at Wilton’s Music Hall. Reinterpreting characters from a play or using them as stimulus for a new drama has its precedents; in the Shakesperian world most notably Tom Stoppard in Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, which successfully took an existentialist and absurdist approach to devising a tragicomedy. Garnet has not specified a genre, but rather has gone for a stylistically open-ended approach based on the verse ‘Here’s much to do with hate, but more with love’ (Romeo and Juliet 1.1.172) asking, “What if Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet had told a different story?” Well, manifestly it would not have been Romeo and Juliet which Shakespeare, as a victim of his time, probably felt had more appeal and a greater chance of success than a play entitled Mercutio and Tybalt. Garnet’s ‘fresh twist’ redresses his missed opportunity and turns this pair of rivals into ‘the two hours' traffic of our stage’ and transforms them into fated lovers.Her aim is to reveal ‘the intrigue and passion of a forbidden romance forged in strife, stifled by circumstance and silenced by history’ and in the process ‘reimagining Shakespeare’s verse for the modern age’. This is the play’s UK premiere, having opened at the New York International Fringe Festival in 2019 with Connor Delves as Mercutio, a role he recreates in this London run. He is joined by Tommy Sim'aan as Tybalt and Gethin Alderman as Player, a part worthy of a touring company, in which he takes on all other characters. That is no mean feat and one that requires multiple changes of voice and costumes, as he flits between Capulet, Romeo, Paris, Benvolio and a new character, the beggar Salvatore, and perhaps more. Doubling-up is a well-used device but it wears a bit thin when it reaches the level of sextupling and his last character is the maidenly Juliet who would not be out of place in a pantomime. It gets some laughs as do many exchanges, but also contributes to the general confusion as to the nature of this play.It opens with the familiar ‘Two houses’ prologue and passages of the original emerge throughout the play but most is newly created or adapted in a manner which at times is clever and imaginative and then conversely irritating and shallow. The early part of the story is familiar but the departure takes place with a kiss given by Mercutio to Tybalt as they leave the masque ball. Delves has no problem in flaunting the gayness of Mercutio. He’s at times flirty, camp, witty, and seductive and always intent upon gaining the love of Tybalt, who suddenly finds himself thrown into a world of doubt and insecurity that challenges his very existence. Sim’aan captures the man’s tormented condition and they both reveal the difficulty and necessary secrecy of being consumed by ‘the love that dare not speak its name’. Given performances that have considerable accomplishment there is a sense that this should be a success, yet the mish-mash of tragedy and comedy at times approaching farce, the stylised language and usurpation of the original leave it unsatisfying. It’s not helped by the expanse of the Music Hall and the madrigal-style songs they perform which seem unnecessary and are performed so crudely as to add little to the period feel. Ruari Murchison’s dull set of a wooden wall of boards and doors does nothing to add life to the proceedings while the momentary flashes of colour in the costumes barely lift the air of brown banality. Director Philip Wilson makes maximum use of the ample space and the flight of steps that span the width of the stage, as does fight director Haruka Kuroda when the swords are brandished. It is one of those fights that brings a predictable end to this drawn out tale that seems to know not where it belongs.

Set in an unspecified time and without a location, No Particular Order resonates across the ages, through civilisations and empires, dictatorships and democracies and more, vividly visiting communities, organisations and generations of individuals who have lived, survived, suffered and died under countless regimes. The structure of Tan’s play and the instructions he gives about it are fascinating in themselves. The piece is in three parts. Part One has nine scenes and is separated by thirty years from Part Two, which has seven scenes. Part Three is very short with only two scenes of which the first occurs three hundred years after the end of Part Two while the second is ‘a space beyond time, or at least history’. These latter futuristic and speculative scenes seem to lack the immediacy of earlier scenes almost causing the play to fade away rather than reaching a climax or providing a dénouement as engaging as what has come before.Thus, the play has many stories that revolve around a theme and circumstances; eighteen vignettes that are portrayals of life in a newly-emerging despotic regime. Society, we are informed, is ‘listless, submissive, and scared’ and Tan asserts that ‘every scene starts afresh’ in the manner of snapshots that capture moments in the lives of people in a range of settings, what he calls a ‘flicker-book of portraits’. He also requires that the play should have ‘at least four actors - two young, two older, a mix of races and genders - play all the roles’. The characters are not named but identified by their positions or jobs. Hence in the opening scene we have Exterminator 1 (Jules Chan) and Exterminator 2 (Daniel York Loh) who are later joined by Bureaucrat (Pía Laborde-Noguez) in a discussion of removing birds from the trees that line the procession route of the new dictator. This sets the tone of conflicting interests, the power of authority figures and people holding alternative perspectives and having different priorities that will become recurring motifs. It’s potentially a heavy mix but there are several scenes, which, though serious, are more light-hearted. The fashion house encounter provides Pandora Colin, as the Couturier, some delightful moments of dry humour in dealing with design revolutionaries who dare to suggest departing from everything being made in black. Dictators come in many guises. This scene goes particularly well with designer Ingrid Hu’s set with black and white lengths of material that sweep over the heads of the audience from the rear of the auditorium to the stage that are so Coco Chanel. In other scenes the single black rectangular pillar is sufficiently simple to take on various symbolic meanings and throughout, the gauze backdrop allows for a rear-projection to announce each scene title. Director Joshua Roche has gone for something of a low-key, understated approach to the text which the ensemble clearly warms to, particularly in the ponderous, reflective and calmly tragic scenes. The cast balance each other well and create effective contrasts in the many roles they assume. The range of issues covered means that every scene is likely to resonate with someone and especially with those who have had direct experience in some of the situations depicted, even if to a lesser degree. As such it's a well-crafted blend of the timeless and the immediate.There is undoubtedly something for everyone in No Particular Order even if it takes a while to appreciate the structure of the thematically related yet independent tales. 

Soho Boy, at the Drayton Arms Theatre, is a new musical, written and composed by Paul Emelion Daly. It provides the professional debut for Owen Dennis who will graduate from the Italia Conti Academy this summer. He plays Spencer, the only character in the show.The storyline is familiar, simple, straightforward and contains no surprises. Spencer is gay, but not out and will remain that way until he leaves his hometown. He packs his bags and moves to Soho where his mother thinks he will find a nice girl and settle down. She even calls him to see how he is progressing in that respect. He does some busking and gets a job in a clothes store from which he borrows clothes that he flaunts in multiple costume changes that show off his slender physique. He meets Jonathan on one of many nights spent partying and they hook up; for a while. Spencer’s life goes downhill from there. In pursuit of Jonathan, he feels obliged to indulge in the sleazier side of the gay scene which is the excuse for the predictable and gratuitous nude scene. I’ll leave the ending, lest you decide to see the show, but the idea that, according to the publicity, this ‘is a modern take’ on the gay scene could not be further from the truth. There is nothing new here and there are hints of decades past.Dennis looks the part and he must be thrilled to have landed the role in a world premiere before he fully embarks on his professional career. He has an adequate voice, but one that leaves room for more development in order to carry off sustained solo roles. David Shields’ set of a couple of moveable clothes rails full of outfits establishes Spencer’s lifestyle and the stripped bed cleverly doubles up as a stage, as Spencer does a cabaret song and dance routine. Producer and lighting director, Richard Lambert, makes the most of the flashy disco vibe and lifestyle of Spencer to flood the set with vivid colours and intensely bright lights that add further sparkle to his wardrobe, just in case it’s not all quite camp enough. Talking of things that sparkle, the back wall is veiled in black cloth with individual white bulbs that blend the disco imagery with that of the sky at night. It fits perfectly with the last song of the show, Why ask for the moon, which has the line ‘Why ask for the moon/ When the stars are shining?’ a near pillage from Now Voyager that one wishes might have been avoided, even though it pretty much sums up the general level of the lyrics.Director Matt Strachan allows Dennis to wander around the room, but he has little to work on. The songs are predictable rather than memorable and combine with a minimal libretto that has a shallow storyline lacking in complexity and with insufficient narrative to build up emotional depth and create a sense of involvement and attachment.

Did Alissa Finn choose to perform Confessions of a Goddess Unhinged at the Water Rats in King’s Cross because the stage has a pair of ionic columns framing the stage? No, is the answer, but they fit perfectly into the context of her storyline.But first a word about this famous venue’s prestigious history. Bob Dylan's first UK gig was staged here in 1962 and The Pogues trod the same boards twenty years later. Oasis added to the hall of fame, playing their first London gig under the lights in 1994, along with the likes of Katy Perry, The Courteeners and Ra Ra Riot over the years. Recently refurbished, they’ve installed a high-end D&B PA system which certainly did the job for Finn.This evening includes songs from Stephen Sondheim, Kate Bush, Kander & Ebb, Dave Malloy and several others. They are woven into a narrative that takes snippets of Greek mythology to tell of the relationships between the goddesses and the gods and that highlights the timelessness of themes such as love, mischief, deceit and revenge. Their stories lead from one song to the next, proving the maxim that there is indeed a song for every occasion, even if they are moments from the classical ancient world. It’s a novel idea and with all the research Finn has done into the wealth of stories that surround the other-worldly beings she had plenty to choose from including the entanglements of Aphrodite, Hephaestus and Ares and Circe’s penchant for turning men into pigs.It was the right day of the week for a show that starts with Sunday in the Park with George, a song that demonstrated her clarity of enunciation. There are a lot of words in rapid succession that can easily twist any tongue, but not in her case. Her vocal ability shone through each number, but it was the perfectly pitched and sublimely delivered top F# in such a quiet and soft tone at the beginning of Summertime that confirmed the purity of her voice. Finn is a native New Yorker now based in London where she graduated from the Royal Academy of Music with an MA in Musical Theatre in 2019. She also holds a Bachelor of Music in Vocal Performance and when required can perform as a coloratura soprano. She was raised in a family of musicians in a creative household surrounded by art and music. Her imagination is obvious in the composition of this show which she was performing for the first time since completing it.Finn was joined on stage by guest artist Lily Kerhoas who did a fine performance of the agonising Sorry I Asked. Matthew Jackson was on the keyboard. Also from the Royal Academy, with an MA in Musical Direction and Coaching he gained after being awarded a first in music from Oxford, he handled the intricate finger work with ease and energetically provided the backing, though he was anything but in the background. The joy he gave was not only in his accomplished performance but in the obvious pleasure and involvement he exuded throughout the show. The chemistry between then really shone in a tantalising rendition of Mein Herr opening the second half, just in case we needed any reminder we were being treated to all the joys of a cabaret.Jackson vacated his stool for the last number and displaying yet one further talent Finn accompanied herself on the keyboard for a rendition of Alicia Keys’ Ain’t Got You, before they all assembled for the finale to a thoroughly pleasurable and enchanting show that would have pleased the gods. 

Searchlight Theatre Company returns to the Brighton Fringe with their delightful show Mr Laurel and Mr Hardy at the Rialto Theatre. The production is as simple and straightforward as the title suggests and all the better for it. David Leeson is joined by Colin Alexander as Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy respectively. They play those roles from time to time, but this is not about impersonation and neither is it in the mould of a tribute show, but rather a nostalgic telling of the comedy couples last UK tour that started in 1952. In addition to historical narrative, the story is largely told through the eyes of two stagehands, avid fans who see the celebrities backstage, in their dressing rooms and from the wings as they tour some of the great and also lesser theatres of the day. The Palace Theatre Manchester was a major venue for them, but their last UK performance was at the Palace Theatre Plymouth on May 17, 1954, after which they set sail for the USA, where Hardy died in 1957. Laurel lived to 1967, but never performed again following the loss of his greatest friend. All this and much more is detailed in the show.They ranked among the biggest names of their day and were admired by the likes of Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton. Dance of The Cuckoos became their signature tune. It would announce their arrival wherever they went as it does at the Rialto. For those not familiar with their style of humour, in the films it was mostly slapstick, but on stage their terrible line in groaning jokes was more evidenced. "You can lead a horse to water, but a pencil must be led." That one’s not n the show, but it gives you an idea. Hardy had a fine tenor voice and built up a repertoire of songs, several of which are beautifully sung in the show by Alexander, including classics such as The Trail of the Lonesome Pine and Honolulu Baby along with many others.The show makes for a comforting journey down memory lane; a light-hearted piece of escapism that preserves a major part of theatre history and acknowledges the enormous contribution to entertainment made by two of its finest talents.

The Dwarfs is a semi-autobiographical work and Harold Pinter's only novel. The three male characters are drawn from some of his friends in Hackney, where he grew up. They’re lads in their mid twenties, so they’ve been around a bit and they have that East End edge to them, but each has gone his own way in terms of making a living. It was compiled over several years in the early 1950s but not published until 1992. His first play, The Room, didn’t appear until 1957. So how did The Dwarfs end up on stage? Taking another look at it, he turned the novel into a radio play for the BBC in 1960. Three years later it was seen on stage at the Arts Theatre Club, but this version had only three characters, each male. It was not until 2002 that Pinter was approached by author Kerry Lee Crabbe and director Christopher Morahan with a request to make it into a proper stage play. He gave permission and it was performed at the Tricycle Theatre. The big change they brought about was the inclusion of a woman, creating a character that provided for new storylines and added dimensions.Most of the action takes place in a basic flat; we’re not yet into the age of boutique designer apartments. The minimalism here is simply a lack of furniture, but there is a table and chairs, an armchair and a sink with draining board and a curtained cupboard underneath it. The simplicity of Isabella van Braeckel design allows for flexibility in changing locations with just a few small touches and the space around it and within becomes a walking area, a park, a street and a canal amongst other places in this busy play. Julian Starr’s tailor-made interludes smoothly transition the twenty-nine scenes, integrating sounds and text with effects and carefully chosen pieces of music. The opening recorder tune is particularly cheery, sets the tone and anticipates the first scene. His artistry throughout the play is a delight to hear. Lighting designer Chuma Emembolu also rises to the challenge of setting the mood and moving smoothly from scene to scene in the confines of this intimate theatre.Quite what can go wrong with a recorder is a mystery, but unlike the one we’ve just heard, Len (Ossian Perret) can’t get a note out of his. This failure is perhaps symbolic of much in is life; a struggle to achieve something that doesn’t materialise. Yet he is a constant in the lives of the others, supportive and no threat when is comes to finding a girl. Perret sincerely portrays the range of qualities associated with being a nerd, a geek and a dork with eccentric behaviour around the table and moments that provide insight into the man. His enthusiastic and detailed directions for a journey across London reveal that he has spent hours learning bus timetables by heart; his enthusiasm for the time he spent in hospital speaks volumes about his feelings of loneliness and insignificance. Then there are his imaginings of dwarfs in the garden. Mark (Charlie MacGechan) also craves attention and has some idea of how to go about getting it, after all he is an actor. MacGechan suggests that beneath the smooth exterior there smoulders a menacing, rather slimy character you wouldn't really trust. You certainly don’t want to let him near your girlfriend as Pete (Joseph Potter) finds out. Potter looks good, is full of charm, is jovial and makes the mercurial Pete a seemingly great guy to be around. He has all the talk but he too has unpleasant features lurking beneath that facade. Whatever psychoses he suffers from, they are frightening to observe and Potter has mastered the art of bringing about the sudden, unexpected outbursts that Pete is prone to. Who knows what triggers them, but Virginia (Denise Laniyan), his girlfriend, puts up with them, is subservient and doesn’t provoke him. What is this intelligent schoolteacher thinking of? Again, there is more going on in her mind than meets the eye and ultimately she has her day. Laniyan, in her professional stage debut since graduating from Royal Central School of Speech and Drama, looks stunning and gives a triumphant performance that is beautifully cool and calm, soft and gentle in contrast all that is going on around her. Casting director Martin Poile has found a quartet truly worthy of this play and Director Harry Burton has crafted them into a team that does credit to the fast-paced work that contains the seeds of what Pinter was to achieve in the years ahead. With all this talent it's not surprising Flying Colours Productions have created a gripping, intimate and intense triumph.

The Man In The Shed is a highly amusing and at time hilarious solo rant by actor Alex Dee, co-written as Alex Donald with Tim Connery. He is the man taking shelter from the world in his garden and he has no name other than ‘the man in the shed’, which indicates the somewhat generic and universal nature of the person in question; a type, rather than a person, not known publicly in vast numbers, but one suspects that there are plenty of them out there. Perhaps not all in sheds, but perhaps occupying the attic or the basement or any other room that doesn’t bring them into contact with the family or where visitors might venture.It might depend on your age, background and circumstances as to how much The Man In The Shed resonates with you. It’s one of those pieces that at some point should touch everyone, but some more than others; that much was obvious from the laughs, chuckles and grins, including my own, that looking around didn't come from the same people all the time. Some might have had a father like him, or still do. Others will know of people who live his sort of detached existence, surrounded by the few things that perhaps give security; in this case a supply of whisky, records from the past and a deck that can play old vinyls and CDs. There might be women who see their husband in him, whom they also ban from drinking in the house. It’s also possible to ponder on what’s going on beneath the surface of this ultimately sad case of a human being, for there is clearly much, but it’s only ever hinted at amongst the tirades that flow endlessly from him and that provide amusement at his own expense.The Man In The Shed is an in-house production at the fabulous Bridge House Theatre, Penge. (For those like me who live north of the River and initially wondered where on earth it was, it’s served by two stations of which Penge West is a few metres around the corner. It’s also a delightful, well-preserved, traditional local pub with a vast outside area.) The work is in the talented hands of the theatre's artistic director Luke Adamson, who goes for a no-frills approach entirely in keeping with the subject. JLA productions, which he and the theatre’s production manager and associate director Joseph Lindoe co-founded in 2019, provide the lighting, sound and set design, the latter partly by raiding the grounds of the pub. All the elements work well together and the shed is a work of art that could be a gallery installation. If it bore the name Tracey Emin it might even win a prize. Inside the shed, his ‘fortress of solitude’ and ‘place of reflection’ the man has his wooden table and white plastic chair, in front of which he sets up his tripod, attaches his mobile phone and prepares to record his tirade. He’s learned about YouTube from his daughter and now has a following of three. He really is a loser! Thus begins what is a fine example of a monologue, as opposed to a play, for it is a focused polemic in which he tries to impart ‘facts’ to the world and address the plight of men in today’s society. There is no soul-searching, no delving into his inner depths and no self-analysis, because that’s not what men do; leave it to the women in their social circles, the gays and the environmentalists. The nearest we get to that is the odd qualified line such as, “I love my family, but I can’t relate to anything they do”. Even that is delivered as just a statement of fact rather than an emotional regret. “It used to be fun being a bloke,” he says. Clearly, as he perceives the world, it no longer is. Now, ‘the world is against blokes’. He’s as out of tune with the modern world as he is with learning, despite trying to impart it to others. He concludes each bold, brash declamation with the assertion, “Fact”. Yet each is a jumbled heap of confusion and misrepresentation. Alex Dee leaves no doubt that the man does indeed believe he is spouting facts and delivers the falsehoods with sincerity and honesty, which makes him all the more pitiful and comical.For all that The Man In The Shed is a laugh, it is also a reminder of how difficult change can be for many people and the extent to which it poses a threat to their existence; like the man in the shed, left behind in the wake of the woke.

Jim Spencer Broadbent is a playwright based in South-East London, so he is delighted to be presenting his play The Recollection of Tony Ward as one of twenty-seven companies contributing to the first Peckham Fringe that is currently being held at Theatre Peckham.He specialises in one-act works that tell stories which, in his words, ‘benefit from their lack of embellishment, forming strong relationships between audience members and characters’. He has no formal training in either writing or performing but brings his experience in many aspects of life to the creative process. Still a young man, he has met with success in all he has written so far. This latest piece should prove to be no exception.The Recollection of Tony Ward has the simplicity of approach that he boasts. It's a straightforward reminiscence and reflection by the sole character Tony Ward. Now aged fifty-one, Tony finds himself back in his childhood home sleeping in the same bedroom he occupied when growing up. Why? His divorce has just been granted and he has no other option than to mave back to the family home. Things were not supposed to work out like this, despite his own misgivings about the marriage. It would have been more bearable if he had been the one to end it, but his wife beat him to it. Now he is alone, without her or his son, in a box room as empty as his life. Yet the space is full of memories and these come back to him in highs and lows, recalling youthful interactions with his mum, dad and older brother, the one who had the full-sized bedroom and the friends who have since moved on.Although he wrote the play, Broadbent was not supposed to be performing it last Sunday. He’d been in rehearsals with an actor of the right age for several weeks who phoned him the day before to say that he was pulling out as he still couldn’t remember all the lines. Having never acted before Broadbent decided the show must go on and that he would do the two Sunday performances. That desicion might prove life-changing. We were not told this, so accepted the performance at face value, as though it was all exactly as intended. What he pulled off was a triumph.The difference between his own age and that of Tony did seem a little odd, but with Ian McKellen having recently played Hamlet in his eighties what do a few years matter? It meant he brought a level of agility and physicality to the performance that was superbly synced with dramatic sound and lighting effects. It gave a sense that he had taken on the boyishness of the lad who had occupied the room for so many years while recounting the tragedy of his later life. That story was told with feeling, sometimes in soft tones, with sadness and disappointment, but then with anger and resentment and the rage of someone betrayed by the world. He did it all with sincerity, honesty and passion.I really hope he goes on to write more works of this calibre and style and also that he takes up acting himself. He has the necessary magical quality of stage presence. This is exactly the sort of material a Fringe Festival should attract: succinct, focused, moving and superbly performed. Congratulations also to Theatre Peckham for mounting this. May they have many successful years ahead of them.

Expectations can work in many ways and it’s interesting to realise the extent to which we can be influenced by what we have just seen. Recently I was at the Young Vic for Oklahoma! I’d heard reports of it but nothing had prepared me for the radical transformation of the theatre and the startling reinterpretation of the musical that gave it a new lease of life and modern relevance. Even after a couple of weeks the impact of that production was still beating in my veins when I arrived at the London Coliseum for Lincoln Center Theater’s production of Lerner & Loewe’s My Fair Lady by English National Opera, directed by Bartlett Sher.I wondered what might have been done to this masterpiece since it was last seen in the West End twenty-one years ago. To the satisfaction of traditionalists and purists, the answer is almost nothing. In fairness, it doesn't lend itself to being adapted, radically altered or given a change of emphasis: it is what it is and that is a portrait of its time. The big breakthrough comes in the casting. Amara Okereke won Best Actress in a Musical at the Stage Debut Awards 2018 for her performance of Cosette in Les Misérables aged twenty-two. She has a string of other credits playing major roles in musicals and is described by Tatler as ‘the new face of British theatre’. In My Fair Lady, she plays the female lead, Eliza Doolittle, the young Cockney flower seller whom the distinguished professor of linguistics Henry Higgins (Harry Hadden-Paton) discovers in the market and determines to transform into a ‘proper lady’ able to take her place in society. She has the looks, can be scrubbed up, which she is in an amusing shower scene, and be dressed in fine clothes, which is also easily arranged. What stands in her way is how she speaks, because in society you are judged as soon as you open your mouth.It would be presumptuous to say how much of a challenge the accents presented to the cast but their natural voices indicate the work they probably undertook under the manifestly successful tutelage of dialect coach Edda Sharp. Okereke was born in North Tyneside but grew up in Leeds and in conversation she retains some distinctive yet mellow regional vowel sounds. Her parents, both doctors, grew up in Nigeria, which makes for a neat link to Stephen K Amos who plays her father, Alfred P. Doolittle. His parents came to London from Nigeria in the 1960s and he grew up in various places south of the river. His speaking voice retains only the mildest hint of both influences. In the show they each belt out the scripted cockney, but while Amos has to maintain it throughout, Okereke has to manage the transition to elegant received pronunciation which she does very effectively. Both actors rise to the occasion in some of the most famous songs in the to found in a musical.One assumes that the accent required of Professor Higgins was no issue for Harry Frederick Gerard Hadden-Paton who was born at Westminster Hospital into landed gentry, the son of a former cavalry officer; his mother being the daughter of a brigadier and his godmother Sarah, Duchess of York. He oozes confidence in the role, commands those around him, relishes his bachelor status, is unmercifully demanding and is contemptuous of even his mother’s criticisms. Talking of whom, it would be amiss not to mention that Mrs Higgins is played by Dame Vanessa Redgrave, now aged eighty-five. Applauded before she utters a word it gives the greatest joy to see her relishing this cameo role, despairing of her son and being carefully escorted amonst the guests at the Embassy ball. Malcolm Sinclair gives a distinguished, old-school performance as Higgins’ fellow dialectologist Colonel Pickering which is yet another delight, along with Maureen Beattie’s stern and dry-witted interpretation of Mrs Pearce. She runs the house which is on a spectacular revolve with a beautifully designed wooden spiral staircase leading to the upper level bookshelves and a door where they descend to another room. The rotations are entertainment in themselves; a triumph for set designer Michael Yeargan.Costumes are always one of the most outstanding feature of My Fair Lady and Catherine Zuber does not disappoint in this production, following in the footsteps of Cecil Beaton with grandiose Ascot outfits with enormous hats and exquisite ball gowns. The street clothes are equally impressive as are the uniforms of the domestic staff, and the bright red can-can skirts come as a dashing surprise in Get me to the Church on Time, another fine example of Christopher Gattelli’s precise choreography that is apparent in all the set pieces. With so many aspects of this production to celebrate, it’s surprising that it comes over as less impressive than the sum of its parts. The components are all there, including the superb ENO Orchestra under Gareth Valentine. Director Bartlett Sher’s re-interpreted ending in a style that seems out of keeping with the rest of the show doesn’t help, leaving an air of mystification. That aside, it is all very predictable and true to the original, which is perhaps what many will appreciate.

Brecht would have felt at home watching two Palestinians go dogging at the Royal Court Theatre, Jerwood Studio. The techniques he devised are at the heart of Sami Ibrahim’s play and director Omar Elerian has deployed them to effectively bring the audience into the performance.The light-hearted approach to this most serious, tragic and delicate of topics is inherent in the title; it applies not just to dogging on a contested piece of land, but more importantly to the whole question of the Arab-Israeli conflict. As we are told, it is 'a serious play about Palestine…… and if a story about Palestine doesn’t feature a tormented examination of the Arab-Israeli conflict, is it even a story about Palestine?' Anticipating that it might be necessary to put us all at ease as the play commences, Hala Omran enters, microphone in hand and tells us she’s going to tell us a joke, which she does, then contradicts herself. She plays Reem, the matriarch, narrator and compère of the show. Don’t mess with her. She convincingly holds control over everything, not least her long-suffering husband, Sayeed. If it were a comedy they would be the double act; he being her foil. The endearing Miltos Yerolemou imbues that role with dry humour and amusing asides lamenting his suffering and sublimating his love for Reem with an air akin to Tevye’s, in Fiddler on the Roof, which betrays the depth of affection he clearly has for her He too would like to be a rich man. Another Arab/Jewish parallel.You’re allowed to laugh; Reem says so, so do it because if you don’t laugh in Palestine you cry. There’s plenty of humour. The Arabs are good at it, although the Jews probably claim it as theirs, but then that works both ways. And get over those two words. We are assured that in that part of the world Palestinians call Israelis Jews and Jews call Palestinians Arabs. I hope you are beginning to get the picture and feel the tone of this play; it's not subtle. And if you find that offensive, then this is probably not the play for you. On the other hand a dose of harsh reality might do you good. The Arab perspective might dominate but there are two Jews in the play: a man and his daughter; a family on whom tragedy falls just as it does upon the Arab family. Both sides could say with Shylock, “If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?” Indeed it is Adam, the Jew (Philipp Mogilnitskiy), who in an impassioned monologue traces the folly of all this reciprocal revenge through the ages, culminating in a vigorously physical depiction of weaponry from the stone ages to the present day. And so the hostages are taken, the disputes rage and the killing commences. But don’t worry; it’s all interspersed with dogging, which even the Israelis find irresistible. Plus, the ground makes a great firing range; people don't expect to be shot with their trousers down. The rough-hewn set by Rajha Shakiry perfectly creates the shanty-town scene. Pieces of concrete become adaptable props and barbed wire a trap for anyone trying to clear a wall. The remaining cast move in and out of the dilapidated building conjuring up scenes and other locations on the open floor space. Luca Kamleh Chapman, Sofia Danu, Joe Haddad and Mai Weisz create a range of characters tied up in the troubles, sometimes literally. They each give strong performances and their roles provide further insights into how tragically the conflict can impact people’s lives. The design team imaginatively and significantly contribute to this with Jackie Shemesh on lighting, Elena Peña on sound and Zakk Hein on video. In closing Reem says, “I believe my story matters and you cannot forget a story that matters”. The same is true for her story’s vehicle: two Palestinians go dogging. This play matters and is truly memorable.

Celebrated director Sarah Frankcom makes her debut at Hampstead Theatre in a spartan production of Naomi Wallace’s morality-defying play The Breach. Commissioned by the Actor’s Theatre of Louisville, Wallace says it ‘was then sent packing due to fears about some stories in the play hitting too close to home’.Six actors play three characters at two points in their lives; a seventh appears only in the earlier period. The action starts in 1977, when the kids are in high school, and alternates between then and 1991 when they look back on the events of their formative years. It’s set in industrial Kentucky, where Wallace grew up, but the subject matter is sufficiently universal as to make that of little consequence. The time span includes the Reagan years and the emergence of neoliberalism, referenced here, if only tangentially, in the form of poor safety conditions at work and the rise of powerful, billion-dollar pharmaceutical and insurance companies.Seventeen-year-old Jude (Shannon Tarbet) works all hours to keep the family going. There is just her, her mother and her younger brother Acton (Stanley Morgan). He is bullied at school and she is desperately protective of him. Their house has a basement and two guys from his school agree to protect him as long as they can have access to it for the club they intend to form. Jude agrees. Along the lines of a fraternity pledge, Hoke (Alfie Jones) decides each must now make a sacrifice to become part of the group. This will show his loyalty to the brotherhood and demonstrate that they are bound to each other. Additionally, he rules that whatever the first person does, the next must do something that is of greater sacrifice, more serious and more demanding. He goes first; after which the tension mounts and peer pressure dominates the situation. Frayne (Charlie Beck) rises to the occasion and raises the stakes with what he does. The academic Acton, somewhat shy and nervous, is at a loss as to how he can follow that. To help him out the boys come up with an idea, but it involves his sister. He protests, but not enough for the scheme to be abandoned and so he becomes complicit.They are haunted by the knowledge of what happened for the next fourteen years until Hoke (Tom Lewis) and Frayne (Douggie McMeekin) can bear it no longer and decide to spill the beans to Jude (Jasmine Blackborow). In what should be a straightforward recounting of events the plot thickens and twists occur with each side reeling from shocks and surprises. The meeting is not the one-sided event they imagined it would be. Never believe you have the upper hand until you know all the facts. The balance of power swings back and forth between Jude and the two boys and even revelations about the behaviour of the seemingly truthful Acton all those years ago throw a spanner in the works.The actions and motives of them all are laid as bare as Naomi Dawson’s stage on which they stand. The cold, black, raked slate with just a fault-line running diagonally across it offers nowhere to hide, just as once the revelations begin to flow there is no turning back, no covering up and they will all be exposed for what they are. Both the plotting of Act I and the confessions of Act II are harrowing and at times uncomfortable to listen to. Knowing some of what is to come out gives a sense of dread as to how agonising the occasion might be. The reality justifies the trepidation: it’s painful stuff you’d rather not hear. More than that, it raises questions. How can people behave in that way? What motivates them? How do they live with themselves? But the play is not about giving answers.Here, in the actions of a few people, we have portrayed a chilling microcosm of society, in which people lie, betray their friends, conjure up and commit atrocities, fail to confront the truth and when they do it is to make themselves feel better rather than ease the burden on those they have violated and offended. It doesn’t make for an easy two hours and can leave a sense of drained numbness, but it’s a haunting and fascinatingly stark encounter with human nature.

Both a restaurant and a theatre, The Mill at Sonning, with its beautiful river setting in the countryside near Reading, is currently host to the Busman's Honeymoon, co-written by Dorothy L. Sayers and Muriel St. Clare Byrne, who were friends at Somerville College, Oxford. Sayers went on to write the novel of the same title which was the eleventh and last to feature Lord Peter Wimsey (James Sheldon), an amateur detective and Harriet Vane (Kate Tydman) a crime writer.The play is a classic from the golden age of detective fiction and the realism, manners, stratified society and methodologies of police investigation stand out as firmly rooted in an era that has long past. It premiered in 1936 at the Comedy Theatre in the West End, where it was a great success and ran for 413 performances. At home in the company of Agatha Christie and Noël Coward, it’s a joy to see so much creativity and imagination devoted to a play of this genre. Director Brian Blessed comments, “This is her masterpiece! A love story with detective interruptions. It is enriched with gorgeous characters that bring delightful humour to the story. And the murder method itself remains the most ingenious ever devised by any crime writer.”Wimsey and Vane have just purchased the farmhouse in which the play takes place and arrive to spend their honeymoon in its tranquil setting. They turn up late at night and after some confusion obtaining the key, they go straight to bed. In the morning they discover the body of Noakes, the former owner, in the cellar. What was to have been an escape from anything to do with crime now presents an irresistible challenge to solve another murder mystery along the traditional lines of who, how and why; none of which will be revealed here.Given that Noakes was generally unpopular and somewhat mean, there is no shortage of suspects, including one family member, those employed in the house and people in the village who shed few tears over his passing. No one can be ruled out so Wimsey has the task of eliminating them until only one remains. So here we go.Helen Blanc is delightfully eccentric, emotional and full of surprises. A possible beneficiary, she reveals more and more as Noake’s niece, spinster of the parish Miss Twitterton; not least in relation to the gardener and general handyman, Frank Crutchley. Christian Ballantyne imbues him with vehemence surrounding the money Noake’s owed him, yet laddish ordinariness as a young garage mechanic who enjoys his pints and games in the local pub, especially after choir practice. The housekeeping is done by Mrs Ruddle. Joanna Brookes is a constant sauce of amusement here as she trundles around the sitting room, duster in hand, chuntering to herself and speaking her mind. She is only moderately kept in order by Bunter, the butler and manservant to the deceased, whom George Tefler plays in classic style, possessing a dignified gait and showing appropriate respect to those whom he serves and subservience to those with higher social status. He also looks down on the likes of Mr Puffet, a part clearly relished by Ian Stuart Robertson, who is as rough-hewn as they come and provides much amusement with the sweeping of the chimney. Equally contrasting are Superintendent Kirk, whom Noel White depicts as a man of some intelligence, if rather slow methodical logic, and his sidekick, the less gifted Constable Sellon, portrayed by Luke Barton as a man of rural simplicity who attracts sympathy, especially when his errors of judgement throw him into the arena of suspects, despite his position. Every village has a vicar and Paggleham is blessed with the Reverend Simon Goodacre, who assumes a central role in welcoming the new parishioners, dealing with the funeral and consoling those in grief. Those practicalities aside, Duncan Wilkins makes him quite other-worldly and amusing with a degree of eccentricity that verges on the wacky. Could he possibly have had a grudge against Noakes? Unlikely. This leaves the rather odd character of Mr MacBride, who turns up to sort out some financial claims. Looking and sounding like a very dodgy East End wheeler-dealer merchant who might send the boys in at any time, Chris Porter successfully cuts a figure completely at odds with anything rural. All of these make honeymoon heaven less achievable but Sheldon and Tydman show the love they have for each other in some swooning opportunities while also fathoming out the who-dunnit.The saga unfolds in a delightful period room designed by Michael Holt and appropriately lit by Matthew Bass with costumes of the era by Natalie Titchener. I’m sure Kate Tydman will want to take her stunning last dress home with her.Brian Blessed is absolutely right about the ingenuity of the means of Noake’s death which is demonstrated at the end and is a source of wonderment. It’s an accomplished piece of directing on his part, along with artistic director Sally Hughes, and a significant contribution to preserving this often-neglected and perhaps nowadays unfashionable period of theatre history. It's probably not everyone's cup of tea and perhaps a little tedious in places with diversionary scenes that seem to serve little purpose, but this is the place to be if you want drama with your dinner.

Orlando, Virginia Woolf’s amusing challenge to the norms of society, stemmed from her own life and that of her lover Vita Sackville-West, but in her novel, the eponymous hero's life spans five centuries in various incarnations, challenging gender descriptions and experiencing life as both a man and a woman. No surprise, therefore, that this forms part of the Outsiders Season at Jermyn Street Theatre, where it fits in very well, as it does in the age in which we live.Born into nobility, Orlando (Taylor McClaine) soon moves to the royal court and becomes the chosen one of Queen Elizabeth I in whose reign our story begins, for it is indeed a tale that is shared, in a forthright manner by a storytellers, with everyone in the theatre and indeed on the stage. Scenes from around Europe are performed by a chorus of three (Tigger Blaize, Rosalind Lailey and Stanton Wright) taking on numerous roles, ringing the changes as a lead character but with the whole cast providing passages of narrative and commentary throughout. The arrival of the Russian Princess Sasha (Skye Hallam) brings about the first of several romantic diversions for Orlando, who now discovers the feeling of love but soon learns how fleeting a relationship can be when she leaves without him for her home country. Time moves on and under a new monarch Orlando is appointed as ambassador to Constantinople where he disappears under the sheets of his four-poster bed and mysteriously sleeps for several days only to awaken as a woman. Thus begins the experience of seeing the world from a different perspective. It is not until the reign of Queen Victoria that he finally marries before moving on to wonder at the marvels of the twentieth century. Given the original, it’s inevitable that Sarah Ruhl’s adaptation necessarily requires the direction from Stella Powell-Jones, assisted by associate and movement director Elliot Pritchard, to flit from scene to scene with many changes of costume ranging from the simply symbolic to the glamorous period, courtesy of designer Emily Stuart. Ceci Calf’s set, with its onstage proscenium, acts as a reminder that we are watching performers perform and often in almost pantomime style. It is also suitably adaptable to the passing years and settings, whether on land or at sea. Each member of the cast makes playful use of everything at their disposal and successfully meets the demands that the many changes make of them.If there is a weakness in Sarah Ruhl’s adaptation of Orlando it is perhaps her faithfulness to the original which creates a script heavy in third person narrative. That, of course, is a no-win situation and devotees of Woolf will no doubt be delighted that she has followed so closely what Woolf wrote and be thankful for the accuracy of its transfer to the stage. The production can thus boast literary fidelity and gender fluidity.

Dust-sheets cover what little furniture there is in the expansive room of Dr Felix Kersten (Michael Lumsden), trusted personal physiotherapist to Reichsfuehrer Heinrich Himmler (Richard Clothier) of Adof Hitler’s Schutzstaffel; the SS. It perhaps reflects the austerity of the times, though it is clearly part of a grand house that belongs to a man who has negotiated himself a privileged and safe position during World War II, the culmination of which is now just weeks away. The room appears rarely used, except perhaps for when the massage table is brought in, though it seems likey that Himmler is the only one to lie on it these days; there are only two dining chairs so dinner parties are clearly uncommon. A splendid view of the distant forests is visible through the two central windows with half-raised blinds, while the outer two remain down. Although in the middle of nowhere, prying eyes are always a concern.But we are in the Park Theatre, and a stagehand enters dressed in Germanic clothes befitting a member of the ground staff and removes the dust sheets in preparation for a tense drama that will tell of an almost unthinkable historical meeting that was shrouded in secrecy. Not even Hitler, least of all Hitler, knew anything about it, and he never would. A haunting violin strikes up and given the subject matter of this play Schindler’s List immediately springs to mind. Sound designer Gregory Clarke judges the mood perfectly throughout, heightening the tension of an already nerve-wracking encounter. Similarly, the lighting design by Jason Taylor reflects the subtleties of the delicate exchanges and the grim nature of their discussions, even if tinged with hope. It could be the setting for a murder mystery, but it turns out to be a conference room for something desperately more far-reaching than that.Norbert Masur (Ben Caplan) enters in a light brown overcoat with a briefcase to deliver a prologue that provides his background, before appearing at the front door of Dr Kersten’s house. He is a member of the World Jewish Congress and has flown from Sweden to Berlin and journeyed to the safe haven for this most unlikely meeting that only Kersten could possibly have arranged. Elisabeth Lube (Audrey Palmer) the long-serving housekeeper brings refreshments as she does on many occasions. Palmer gives a delightful portrayal of an ordinary, motherly German caught up in the distress of conflict; she is calm and, under the circumstances, cheerful. The two men discuss their strategy; the aim is to persuade Himmler to release the last surviving concentration camp prisoners, contrary to Hitler’s orders that no Jew should outlast the regime. It’s a plan riddled with risk for all involved, not least Himmler, who would face certain death if ever anyone were to find out. However, he knows his days and that of the war are numbered, as the Allies march forward and take control of the concentration camps. Himmler stomps into the room in full military dress, complete with knee-length black boots. It’s a nerve-wracking moment, which with Clothier’s height and dominating presence makes for a frightening spectacle. Yet here he is with a lone intermediary face-to-face in a room with a solitary member of the ethnoreligious group of whom he has exterminated millions.What follows is surprising, fascinating, and chilling. Clothier’s Himmler is full of Nazi dogma, yet remarkably charming, rational and, for the most part, quietly spoken. In the logic and thinking of his world, he makes sound arguments for the inevitability of the war and its necessity for the sake of the German people. He reminds Masur of some unpleasant truths about the attitude of the Allies towards the Jews; of the shipload turned back from the USA by Roosevelt, and the financial demands on would-be immigrants made by the British. He has just left Hitler’s birthday party and as he sees the end nearing he is wracked by issues of loyalty and duty. Above all else, he is trying to secure his own safety, future, and most desperately his reputation and place in history. It’s a moving and disturbing performance. Is this what it would have been like to encounter the humanity of a man guilty of such atrocities?On the other side of the table, Caplan can be seen biting his tongue, knowing that Masur has only one chance to bring this off and save at least some of his people. With just a few outbursts he remains subservient to Himmler's commanding position, listening attentively to the shifting terms and conditions of the deal. His body language gives us an insight into what it must have been like to be dealing with a man you hate and despise with every ounce of your being. Meanwhile, Lumsden shifts around as the host, trying to keep both sides on track, whilst also trying to ensure that his own future is going to be safeguarded. The meeting comes to a conclusion with decisions reached and compromises agreed. The play then finishes with a double epilogue to bookend it. Masur makes his observations, as he did at the beginning. Then, when it might all be over, Jeanne Bommezjin (Olivia Bernstone) enters in concentration camp uniform to give an insight from those interred for so many years who now face the prospect of freedom. Bernstone is sincere and moving, but the jury is probably still out on how tidy this ending is, and the extent to which it is needed.In writing The End of the Night Ben Brown has taken on one of the most difficult and dangerously delicate of subjects. He has also not flinched from creating some spine-chilling moments and presenting with conviction arguments that are rarely heard, along with the associated insight into the German mindset and the extent of the brainwashing. Yet it remains balanced, as the two men opposite Himmler manoeuver around him in attempts to open his mind to another point of view and pander to his own interests. Director Alan Strachan has handled the material in this world premiere with great sensitivity - no doubt knowing how many nerves it might touch - making it necessarily uncomfortable at times, and always compelling.We may not be at war, but we certainly live in an age of refugees, and this highly focused play resonates beyond the era it's set in, down the ages to where we are today. It is informative, educational, moving, and full of food for thought.

Sometimes all the elements of a production combine to form something that is stunning and deeply moving. The key to that success is knowing which people to bring together to fulfil a script that offers enormous potential to the right actors who can perfectly relate to each other. Producer Rebecca Lyle has done precisely that with If. Destroyed. Still. True. at The Hope Theatre, Islington, starting with director Sarah Stacey.It’s a warm evening on the Essex coast in the summer of 2012. The three characters are in their late teens. James (Theo Ancient) is home from University with his new girlfriend Charlotte (Whitney Kehinde). His best friend John (Jack Condon - also the playwright) can’t wait to reunite with his mate; until they do, that is, and things start to go wrong. John is a local lad with the accent to prove it. The boys might have grown up in the same area but James is clearly from a posher background. With no hint of a glotttal stop he has fitted in very comfortably to academic life and happily forsaken the dull existence of his home town in which he no longer belongs. For John, however, there has been no road out, but rather a succession of failed attempts at maintaining a job and getting a girlfriend that lead to a downward spiral of drinking and depression. Charlotte, meanwhile, is taken aback that James should have a friend such as John with his passing racist comments, inabilty to make something of his life and negativity. The story goes on to span ten years, in three main scenes, during which the tensions mount, the rifts emerge, tragedy strikes and futures are at stake. The play is rooted in Condon’s own background and the move he made from a working-class town to training at RADA and feelings that emerged of not having fully left the one while not being completely at home in the other. The tensions of transition, of making a new life and meeting new people, of starting fresh relationships, of returning to a place that has not moved on and where you don’t want to be, but where you have family and friends from whom you have become increasingly alienated, all feature in this play. We’re warned that the play contains ‘themes of mental health, social alienation and fractured communities in contemporary Britain’ but this is not an overtly in-your-face treatment of social and psychological issues. Instead, it is the heartfelt story of three people dealing with how they perceive the world to have treated them and now must decide how they deal with their world. It neither judges nor provides answers, but rather opens up cans of worms that make us all wriggle in situations with which we can identify and would wish to be comfortable.Three honest performances and the intense chemistry between the actors bring this about. Condon performs the role he created with intensity and vulnerability. He’s a misfit in his own town, unable to form friendship groups or relationships, he’s intellectually separated from James and even more so from Charlotte with whom he cannot competently engage in the same conversation. As the years progress so does his social alienation and the tenderness and potential for love he possesses is diverted towards animals as isoloated as himself. Ancient makes the first entrance and it is easy to see from his pacing around and staring into the distance that much is going on in his mind. We have a glimpse of the fun times with John, but he knows that those days are over. His stomach is clearly knotted in their exchanges and for all that he tries to be understanding, supportive and compassionate it’s clear that he has moved on and is now in another place. Things will never be the same between them. Added to that is the road of discovery he has to travel in fathoming out his relationship with Charlotte and the implications of possible marriage and of having a family, for which, despite his intelligence, he is less than emotionally prepared for. Kehinde, in a captivating and beautifully spoken performance as Charlotte, goes on that journey with him, but only so far. She has her own background that impinges on her life and a future that has to be thought out. The question is whether her love and commitment is strong enough to wait for James to catch up with her and whether he can make the decisions that he ultimately cannot escape. That is left open as their ability to communicate is found wanting.The intimacy of the Hope Theatre places us on top of this emotional roller-coaster and the work of the creative team heightens its impact. Anna Kelsey’s set covers the floor in what amounts to an artistic installation of grass, rocks, soil, flowers, empty cans and an amusing red and white toadstool that would not be out of place in the Tate Modern. Who would have thought so much could be fitted into so small a space and convey such a sense of location.Composer and sound designer Joseff Harris more than adds to that with his soundscape of waves and abstract noises that are interwoven with the text and heighten the tensions and emotions. The sound of the sea is combined with the sight of the stars and changing colour tones in Gabriel Finn's sympathetic and enhancing lighting design. This team, that has clearly worked so imaginatively together, is further assisted by Amy Hales as stage manager and Korren Howell as assistant director.Jawbone Theatre have scored a triumph with this, their first production, and it’s a joy to witness such success from a company committed to creating stories ‘that open pathways for cross-class and cross-cultural communication’. May Jack Condon write many more and the company deliver them; it’s the sort of uplifting theatre we need.

When Marisha Wallace, who plays Ado Annie, sings “I’m just a girl who cain’t say no” we are left in no doubt as to what she means and it gets the ovation it richly deserves. In many ways it epitomises this startling production of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Oklahoma! at the Young Vic, for which that exclamation mark is deserved many times over. It comes with warnings. We are told the production has ‘mature content’ and ‘contains fog, loud gunshot effects, moments of darkness, and violence’. It should also say that it might leave you an emotional wreck and blown away by the wonder of it all.Director Daniel Fish’s radical reappraisal of Oklahoma! toured the USA, won the Tony Award for Best Revival of a Musical and ran on Broadway for a highly acclaimed season before its current transfer to London where it has Jordan Fein as associate director. The original dates back to 1943, since then generations of fans have relished its stirring and romantic tunes. They are all still there along with the original script, but the full-scale orchestra with swooning strings has given way to a small band, in costume, that features a banjo, a double bass, a drum kit, a mandolin, a violin, a cello and three types of guitar. Daniel Kluger’s choice of orchestration combined with his arrangements root the music in the sound of the midwest, enhancing the regional setting. Added to this is the minimalist yet vast panoramic prairie scene that fills one wall; all part of the breathtaking transformation of the auditorium by co set designers Laura Jellinek and Grace Laubacher into a thrust/traverse arrangement. For the most part, this is bathed in brilliant white light, as though the sun is beating down on the plains, but designer Scott Zielinski has colours to sensitively change the mood and times of day and one very big surprise up his sleeve as well. Costumes by Terese Wadden give each character an individual look and the big dance scene provides an opportunity for some fabulous frocks in an array of vibrant colours.The claustrophobia and tensions of a small community in the vast plains of Oklahoma Territory are palpable. It’s 1902 and statehood is still five years away. Cast members sit each to one of the long trestle tables that border the floor space waiting their turn. In a town this size people see all that goes on, secrets are hard to keep and everybody knows everybody else's business. There are traditional divisions to cope with too. They are made explicit in the box dance big song and dance routine, The Farmer and the Cowman in which they admit that despite their different jobs and demands on the land they ‘should be friends’ because ‘Territory folks should stick together’.After scanning those around him as though to get a feel of the situation, Arthur Darvill (Curly) almost hesitantly opens up the show, guitar in hand, with Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin, as though he’s wondering whether life can really be this good. The rhythm soon gains pace and the energy flows. Over two hours later his feeling that everything’s going his way proves to be true, but not before a great deal of emotional turmoil. He remains captivating throughout, but that can be said of them all. His affections are directed towards Laury, whom he assumes will automatically fall for him. Anoushka Lucas imbues her with self-determination, intelligence and power which makes his task less easy. He also has to compete with Jud Fry, her farm hand. Normally played as a rough outsider who seemingly has no chance, the smouldering interpretation given by Patrick Vaill provides far more credibility. If those two are earnestly looking for a partner, Ali Hakim, the travelling pedlar is doing everything he can to avoid matrimonial capture. Stavros Demetraki provides much of the comedy in this role with his impeccable timing and delivery of one-liners. He combines in some some highly amusing scenes with James Davis as the rather dim-witted Will and his bubbly fiancé Ado Annie. Others do equally well in their roles, making this a production that must surely go down in the books as one of the all-time greats. Oklahoma, the song says, is 'where the wind comes sweeping down the plain' and it's certainly blown the cobwebs out of this classic. Now we can see beneath the surface of cheery exteriors to reveal the often sinister motivations of people with few options in life. Human nature is seen in the raw, as it was then and is now, and that grounds it and brings it into our own age, while at the same time delivering a show that is stunningly sexy and seductive. 

The event might fall short of the hype that The Man Behind the Mask would be a ‘confessional evening – seasoned with highly personal, sometimes startling, and occasionally outrageous stories', but it doesnt seem to matter much. It’s enough just to be in the presence of the legendary Barry Humphries; to feel the charm and warmth he emanates and to marvel at the generations he has entertained with his trademark characters and as the man himself. This latest show, with plenty of video footage of Dame Edna, Sir Les Paterson and even a pop-up of the rare Sandy Stone, is about Humphries himself; a stroll down memory lane, recounting his childhood in Melbourne with many stories about his parents, people who influenced him and his rise to fame before making the brave journey to Europe to start all over again, as he did again when he crossed the pond to the USA. Each move proved highly successful and he established an international reputation as an entertainer. With that came the chance to meet celebrities, politicians and royalty along with invitations to appear on the most prestigious chat shows and be interviewed by the biggest names in the business. More than that he became a chat-show host himself, albeit as Dame Edna, and again the world’s most famous names were honoured to receive invitations. There are two especially amusing excerpts of Donald Trump long before he became president and of Boris Johnson in his earlier days that fill the screen.He declares the stage to be the place where he feels most at home and despite the size of this one at the Churchill Theatre, Bromley, he makes it intimate as he sinks into the rich leather of his luxurious winged Chesterfield with a huge portrait of himself dominating the room and Ben Dawson at the piano on the other side ready to tinkle away; between them an ornately decorated rug. He wears a different jacket for each half but both are rich ard colourful and only slightly more subtle than the vivid socks he wears that don’t match.He has an autocue prompt either side of the stage and his movements go between the two, but the need for these doesn’t inhibit the flow of the stories or his engagement with several members of the audience at their expense. He’s still got the wit, humour, comedic timing and ability to ad lib and to deliver those punch lines almost as asides. He says, “I’m rather proud of what I’ve done in my career. It’s constantly surprising, it’s very stimulating and it’s wonderful to look back on, and to look forward to. It’s still going strong, and with a vengeance.”Now aged eighty-eight it might not be going strong for that much longer, although he does suggest a farwell show amidst the applause at the end of this one! Who knows? Who even thought this current tour would happen? But thousands are clearly grateful he’s back on the road and doing well and are taking the opportunity to see this living legend around the country.

How It Is (Part 2) being Part 2 of a three-part novel of which Part 1 comes before it and Part 3 follows it after which there is no more being a novel it is not a play yet here at the Coronet Theatre Notting Hill it is a play because it is performed on stage and in the auditorium by two actors who are actors who recite and perform the novel which has neither capitalisation nor punctuation but flows in short paragraphs which could be seen as stanzas but lack sufficient definition and are introduced by and interspersed with gamelan music.You get the idea? With no interval and a running time of over two and half hours, Samuel Beckett’s last full novel provides ample material in which to become immersed in this style of writing and to wonder how on earth actors learn and remember the lines and how to divide up the text.Originally published in French as Comment c'est in 1961 and in English in 1964, the novel is divided into three parts in the form of a monologue recited by an unnamed narrator as he crawls around in a landscape of mud and darkness with only a sack, some tins and a tin opener, and recounts a journey towards a fellow traveller, Pim, repeating his life above as he heard it, uttered by another voice inside him. All does not go well, however, and in part two ‘with Pim’, the narrator becomes increasingly angry and violent until he is abandoned by Pim. This leaves him again in mud-dark motionless solitude, speculating about the existence of others like him and Pim while seeking a simple explanation for it all.It has been suggested that Beckett may have been influenced directly or otherwise by both Leopardi, who wrote of the struggle of form to emerge from formlessness in a world of mud, and Dante who created the image of souls ingesting mud in the Stygian marsh of the Inferno and the character of Belacqua who is referenced in the work.The imagery of a primordial pond is heightened in this production by the playing of the music composed by Mel Mercier and played by fourteen musicians who form the Irish Gamelan Orchestra with Cathal Roche and Claudia Schwab. The array of glistening brass instruments occupy the vast the floor of the theatre with the audience in the round; the layout in itself being a work of art. It forms a stunning spectacle upon entering the auditorium and the sounds they create set the tone for a meditative, eerie yet rousing experience, created by blending sounds from gongs, metallaphones, drums a wooden flute and a two-stringed fiddle arranged in two tonal families. This mood is further enhanced by the sublte lighting design of Simon Bennison operated by lighting assistant Hanan Sheedy.All of this forms part of Director/Designer Judy Hegarty Lovett’s vision for this work, which is a co-production between The Coronet Theatre and The Everyman, Cork and produced by Gare St Lazare Ireland. The first part of the trilogy was performed before lockdown but this second part was delayed as a result of that and now appears two years later.Actor Conor Lovett has worked for over 20 years with her and they have an outstanding reputation as explorers and presenters of Beckett’s works. Stephen Dillane joins Lovett on stage and between them they share the text in performances that use all the available space from the staircases and very back of the theatre to wanderings through the orchestra. Their performances are confident, with words powerfully projected and combined with a degree of physicality that harks back to the primeval age. For the most part they operate in isolation in what amounts to lengthy rambling monologues, complicated by phrases that recur and that could easily take an actor to the wrong part of the script. The play is a huge challenge for all involved, not least the audience, but it is one that is deeply rewarding.How It Is (Part 2) is a truly remarkable production and a rare opportunity to see one of Beckett's most complex and mysterious works should not be missed.

Absolute Certainty? staged by Qweerdog Theatre revolves around the confused lives of two brothers and a friend. That question mark poses the doubts and lack of reconciliation that permeate writer/director Stewart Campbell’s play at the Bridge House Theatre, Penge, in which, outside of a few well-established facts, nothing seems certain, not even the matters that recur time and again in discussions. Where people stand, what they believe and how they amuse themselves are all part of a melting pot of fears, of the unknown, of questioning, wreckless behaviour and the unspoken that make a resolution and a stable existence seemingly impossible.The cast of three performs with pace and energy in an attempt to convey the muddled lives of the lads. Finn (Lewis Jackson) tries to remain focused on his studies for the looming A-Level exams and the prospect of life at university. He is the only academic one among them. His older brother, Deano (Dean Gregory) is a builder with his brains in his groin. His life revolves around excessive partying at the weekends and picking up as many women as he can, because it’s what a stud feels obliged to do. His best mate Lee (Andrew Houghton) somewhat reluctantly at times joins in, but has befriended Finn and sees it as his job to prepare the teenager for the social life that awaits him. Deano fears his brother’s presence might cramp his style, however, and is also suspicious of his growing friendship with Lee.There’s a lot of homophobic banter and taunting from Deano as the nature of the relationship between the two boys becomes more ambiguous. Those who like such situations out in the open will be frustrated as the issue hovers under the surface with only a hint of what may or may not be going on. Of the few certainties, we know that Deano’s attitude is derived partly from their mother leaving the family several years ago to take up a lesbian relationship along with the anti-gay rhetoric he has learned from his father. This situation has built up his anger, his resentment and the chip on his shoulder. It’s further exacerbated when he discovers that Lee is in touch with his mother and has been passing on messages from her to Finn. Thus tensions rise and friendships are challenged amongst a trio that lacks the skills to deal with the confrontations they raise.There’s a lot of scene-setting in the play and repetition of scenarios, although in act two events move on apace. The abrupt ending leaves a lot hanging in the air, however, and although by that stage more sensitivity has been demonstrated by Deano and Lee, there is little to suggest that they will make any substantial changes in their attitudes and behaviour. Finn, meanwhile, seems to rise above most of it and has the escape route of university to look forward to.The script might leave something to be desired but each member of the cast uses the material to create a distinctive and complex character surrounded by an air of mystery that gives the production an element of fascination.

After sitting through two acts of around fifty-five minutes each at the Union Theatre, quite why David Lindsey-Abaire’s Rabbit Hole received the Pulitzer Prize for Drama, five Tony nominations, and the Spirit of America Award, remains something of a mystery. Clearly, it had an appeal on the other side of the Atlantic that seems to be missing here, or is it that a dramatic style that appealed in 2006 no longer resonates in the same way?To start, let’s make sure we have the right sort of rabbit hole to go down. This is not in the style of Alice’s plunge into a fabulously thrilling underworld of surrealist excitement, crazy characters and fast-moving events. Instead turn to Merriam-Webster who defines it as ‘a complexly bizarre or difficult state or situation conceived of as a hole into which one falls or descends…especially: one in which the pursuit of something (such as an answer or solution) leads to other questions, problems, or pursuits’. That brings us closer to the variations on a theme which occupy the play’s characters, yet even then suggests more depth, probing, investigation and analysis than is to be found in their interactions.Becca (Julia Papp) and Howie (Kim Hardy) were living the American dream, their careers progressing and their social standing rising along with their salaries. Then a tragedy strikes that destroys their family, damages their relationship and takes them down the same hole that soon splits into separate tunnels for each of them as they try to come to terms with what has happened. They are assisted, or not, by Becca’s sister Izzy (Ty Glaser), who has clearly not made similar progress in life and is now carrying a problem of her own, and Nat (Emma Vansittar) mother to the two girls, for whom the suicide of her son still lingers on in her memory. Finally, there is the appearance of young Jason (Max Pemberton), the source of the tragedy to whom Becca and Howie respond very differently.Ethan Cheek’s set is white and very pale grey; a bland, functional sitting room and breakfast bar that lacks any notable features or artwork that a minimalist interior designer might have included. Even the books on the shelf are just untitled shapes painted uniformly in the same grey. If it is a metaphor for anything it is certainly not obvious, unless it is symbolic of all colour having been taken out of their lives and that now resides in the canopy of toys that hang from above. That decor and distant splash of colour reflects the bulk of the script which has some moments of intensity but also tends to drag as the central themes are revisited with only marginal additions to the debate.It’s not for want of trying on the part of a well-matched cast. Papp and Hardy capture the plight of the couple's devastated life; Glazer reflects the world they came from and from which she has not emerged; Vansittar brings the humour of a well-meaning yet interfering mother, full of ramblings and forgetfulness yet also the understanding and sadness rooted in her own experience making her someone who should be listened to. In a brief yet significant role that serves to highlight the differences in outlook between Becca and Howie, Pemberton gives a delicate and earnest performance. Together they reveal the frictions and tensions that permeate their relationships and the struggle to find reconciliation.Overall, however, it remains unsatisfying. Whatever vision Director Lawrence Carmichael might have for this production, remains unclear. To a large extent, it is interesting yet lifeless and fails to inject sufficient contrasts into a play replete with lows but lacking in highs.

If you are into boxing, and I’m not, Fighting Irish gives you something to latch onto from the outset. If you love a good courtroom drama, which I do, then that is the surprising bonus just over halfway through. In either case, this is a cracking story, rooted in the lives and experiences of a real family, wherein the tale becomes a vehicle for underlying themes, which many will readily and intimately identify with and everyone should be able to appreciate.The Belgrade Theatre, Coventry, is no stranger to world premieres. Upon opening in 1958 Bryan Bailey, the theatre’s first director, wasted no time in attracting a new play for a new theatre with Arnold Wesker’s Chicken Soup with Barley, followed by Roots and I’m Talking About Jerusalem to complete the trilogy in the following two years. Others followed as the theatre became a hotbed of cutting-edge contemporary drama for over two decades.Now, as part of the Coventry UK City of Culture 2021 programme, the theatre is proud to present another premiere, this time from local first-time writer Jamie McGough, a play based on events from his own family’s history and inspired by their retelling of the stories of their lives in Coventry and Ireland. The origins of the play’s story go back to 1947 when Martin Joseph McGough was despatched to England, aged just 13. Nine years later he married his English love, Eileen Blumsom and they had four children. They settled in Tile Hill, Coventry, surrounded by other Irish families where boxing was a popular pastime. Muhammad Ali even made a special stop there on his 1983 Midlands tour. In the mid-1970’s, their sons, Sean, Martin Vincent and Jarlath, won several national titles. It was the first time three brothers had represented England internationally. Then, in the Spring of 1978, Jarlath became the youngest ever Irish light-heavyweight champion and that summer boxed for Ireland at the European Junior Championships. By now there was an element of discontent festering about these lads coming over from England to fight for Ireland. The following year, undeterred, all three of the McGough brothers entered the Irish championships. Amongst a hail of controversy, Jarlath was disqualified in the second round as he defended his title; a turning point in the lives of the family, as the simmering prejudice towards him as an Anglo/Irish surfaced and the evident corruption of the officials brimmed over. We witness the riot that ensued in the National Stadium that night and the arrest of Jarlath and Martin McGough along with their subsequent trial, at the Four Courts in Dublin, in the summer of 1979.It becomes not just a fight to retain a boxing title, but a battle for justice and a search for identity. It’s summed up in a searing, heartfelt exclamation from Jarlath. “I have to fight everyone – opponents, referees, judges. I’m Irish in England, English in Ireland. Who am I?”It’s a cry that generations of migrants, refugees and displaced persons have made to this day.The play is staged in B2, the black-box studio theatre that is not unlike the Donmar Warehouse, with about the same capacity. This production has it configured in the round for the first time since it opened in 2007. For a play based on boxing, the choice of set is obvious, but in the hands of designer Patrick Connellan (who also did costumes), the predictable and simple is elevated to the stunning, especially when enhanced by a colourful and evocative lighting design from Joe Hornsby and the venue is filled with music, songs and a soundscape by Oliver Howard and Jason Sylvester. The play makes very specific demands on everyone involved in what has clearly been a hugely collaborative team effort to nurture this play from script to stage under director Corey Campbell, assisted by Sara Myers. The list of credits for creatives is considerable and too long to name everyone, but reflects the need for fight consultants, a dramaturg, a voice and dialect coach and several assistants to them.Despite having a cast of eleven, there is also a lot of doubling-up of characters to be done in what amounts to an ensemble piece with clearly drawn characters. Louis Ellis and Daniel Krikler as Jarlath and Martin Vincent capture the ambition of boys committed to their sport, the drive to succeed and also the desire for justice. This latter theme is embraced more widely by Christian James, who as Sean passionately takes up the political agendas of the day and fights in another arena, reminding us of the historical context. Behind the boys is the family, with Colm Gormley playing the ever-supportive father out to protect his lads and Shady Murphy, displaying matriarchal control and gritty determination in all circumstances. Keith Dunphy, as Alderman John Gannon, is in many ways pitted against the McGoughs as he remains unwavering in opposition to what he sees as English intruders representing Ireland. The courtroom scene is dominated by Eddy Payne as barrister Adrian Hardiman, whose initial doubts about the case are overcome as he sees a way forward and proceeds with vehemence.When the main story is over, a moving finale – almost as an epilogue – brings updates on where they are now and what happened to them. It’s a sharp reminder that this is not a work of fiction but the saga of a fighting family.

Two stunningly energetic performances keep Owen McCafferty’s Mojo Mickyboy, courtesy of Bruiser Theatre Company, rolling along at a cracking pace that provides an hour of action-packed entertainment at the Union Theatre, Southwark.The production requires close attention and considerable concentration. Such is the pace, that with a momentary wandering of the mind, it would be easy to miss a scene or two as Michael Condron (Mojo) and Terence Keeley (Mickybo) hurtle through adventure after adventure as two nine-year-old boys. It’s the creative, imaginative speed at which kid’s used to function in the days when playing in the street or the woods was the norm and it was possible to be anybody and anywhere in a world of make-believe. For these two lads the weekly trip to the cinema has opened up the world of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, which they joyfully recreate, be it where they live, on the estates of sectarian Belfast in the 70s, or by taking a bus from there to a terminus in the middle of nowhere and imagining it to be Bolivia. Their games also give sound designer Garth McConaghie and lighting designer James C McFetridge something to play with too, which they do very effectively throughout.The boys are the principal characters, but their families, the rival gangs, parents and a host of others are brought into the action. Each soon becomes an easily identifiable member of the community as the guys flick from one person to another with impressive changes of accent and tone of voice combined with the creation of a repertoire of idiosyncratic mannerisms and postures. There is a great deal of humour in all of this generated by the delivery and agility of Condron and Keeley and the dynamic chemistry that exists between them; all of which director Lisa May has used to maximum effect.That aside, there are issues with the play and the production. The volume of the banter is often ear-piercingly and relentlessly loud. Stuart Marshall’s set, an artistic composition in wood, is evocative of a debris playground in a violence-torn city. It works well for places to hide in, run around and jump off, but does nothing to pad the walls to soften the echo that often distorts lines, necessarily and naturally delivered with Northern Irish accents. That life is not all fun and games is often hinted at through scenes that depict the realities of home life and the boys’ surroundings. But they are often very subtle and even when made explicit lack development or in-depth consideration. Maybe it’s a reflection of their world, in which the uncomfortable and unpleasant are washed under the carpet of imagined other worlds as a survival strategy, but as a piece of theatre, it leaves a sense of not being fully satisfied; of wanting to know what is really going on under the surface.

Gilbert & Sullivan have survived the test of time and now seem to have successfully weathered the pandemic. The two most recent productions in London could not be more different; testaments to the durability of the traditional and the opportunities for modernity. Without speculating on what they might have made of Sasha Regan’s All-Male HMS Pinafore at Wilton’s Music Hall, a building both men would have known well, it is safe to say that they would have felt very much at home with The Gondoliers at the Hackney Empire, built in 1901 when W. S. Gilbert was still alive and the year after Arthur Sullivan’s death.The production comes courtesy of Scottish Opera, D'Oyly Carte Opera and State Opera South Australia whose collaboration has resulted in a delightful rendition of the work. G&S’s last great operetta, if lacking as many catchy tunes as some other works, is not short on orchestral charm, large-scale chorus numbers and pieces for soloists and groups, thanks to Sullivan’s craft. As for Gilbert, the Illustrated London News reported on the opening in 1889 that he was his old self, the man renowned for ‘whimsical conceit, inoffensive cynicism, subtle satire, and playful paradox’. It’s all still there and in the best tradition of these works, it comes complete with humourous updates that reflect our current political scene. The Gondoliers has some long sequences uninterrupted by dialogue and more set dance pieces than in any other of the duo’s works. This production makes the most of them, under the secure direction of Stuart Maunder with conductor Derek Clark faithfully interpreting the score. Dick Bird creates classic Venetian imagery with his set, but it is his costumes that steal the day. The smartly uniformed gondolieri partner ladies in copious pastel crinolines only outshone in volume by the arrival of Yvonne Howard as The Duchess of Plaza-Toro in what is probably the widest pannier skirt ever seen on stage. With the substantial cast suitably attired, Isabel Baquero and her assistant Lucy Burns, have devised enchanting and lively choreography that permeates the production.What follows their splendid opening does not disappoint, despite the odd reservation. The story is a tale of mix-ups as the two gondolieri brothers discover that one of them is heir to the throne of Barataria, but confusion during their early years makes it impossible to know which it is, unless the Grand Inquisitor can get the truth from the nurse, comically played by Cheryl Forbes. His a somewhat grim role that seems rather out of place in this lighthearted work, especially when played with great menace, if a little humour, as it is here by Ben McAteer. In the meantime the men have to rule as one, choosing a republican, egalitarian model, much at odds with Victorian values, and that even today seems somewhat revolutionary.Thus, William Morgan and Mark Nathan are entrusted to hold the story together as the twins Marco and Giuseppe Palmieri. As no work of this kind would be complete without a love story they espouse Gianetta and Tessa, played respectively by Charlie Drummond and Sioned Gwen Davies. Together they make a fine quartet of balanced voices. Another twist reveals that the heir was married at birth to the Duke’s daughter, a contrasting female role occupied by Catriona Hewitson who captures the distress and confusion of Casilda, exacerbated by her being in love with Luiz, the family’s personal drummer, charmingly played by Dan Shelvey. Most of the comedy is in the hands of the well-established Richard Suart, who as the Duke of Plaza-Toro almost keeps pace with what is going on, if rather indistinctly at times.Inevitably, all is ultimately resolved and everyone lives happily ever after, which is the perfect ending to a joyous production of musical and visual charm.

John Lahr’s Diary of a Somebody makes a return to the stage after an absence of 35 years, this time at Seven Dials Playhouse.It tells the familiar story of playwright Joe Orton (George Kemp) and his partner Kenneth Halliwell (Toby Osmond); a dramatisation of verbatim extracts from The Orton Diaries combined with letters and literary fragments, as well as psychiatric reports. It focuses on the last eight months of their lives, culminating on 9th August 1967 with Orton’s death at the hands of Halliwell who then proceded to commit suicide, as his father had done in 1949. The couple met at RADA. During their early years together they collaborated unsuccessfully on publishing ventures, worked in small theatres and even at Cadbury’s, where two years' employment gave them the money to move to Islington. A short stay in prison for theft and malicious damage relating to library books separated them and during this incarceration in 1962, Orton discovered his independence. His first play, Entertaining Mr Sloane, was a triumph and won the London Critics’ Variety Award as the best play of 1964. It established his status as an outstanding writer of black comedy and one of the most subversive dramatists of the period. He challenged the Establishment, mocked the police, affronted conservative morals and lived a life of promiscuity. His reputation as one of the most outrageous writers of his day was secured with his second play, Loot, which won the Evening Standard Drama Award for the best play of 1966. For Halliwell, life went in the opposite direction. Lacking Orton’s charisma and good looks his mental health issues took him on a downward spiral of depression. Although claiming to be the inspiration and mentor for his partner, he was reduced to being no more than private secretary to the man who stole the limelight, although he did undoubtedly make a significat contribution, particularly in the early days and in editing. Together they enjoyed writing outraged correspondence under the pseudonym of Edna Welthorpe (Mrs), which is cleverly featured in this production, but it is symbolic of their relationship, that even the green plaque on the outside wall of their flat at 25 Noel Road, Islington says Joe Orton ‘Lived Here 1960-1967’, with no mention of Halliwell or the murder. Their individuality and the uneasiness of their relationship is convincingly portrayed by both actors. Kemp oozes self-belief, assurance, social confidence and a degree of arrogance. His body combined with the clarity of his enunciation and the classy accent are a reminder that Orton, who grew up Leicester, decided in his mid teens to take elocution lessons to erode his regional identity at the same time as he started bodybuilding to improve his physique. Osmond does equally well, particularly in portraying Halliwell’s decline. He can be seen at odds with those around him and the play is so written that he has little to say in the first half, almost begging the question as to why he is there at all, which is what many people of the day asked of Orton. His uneasy movements reveal a time of festering tension, of nervous encounters with rising envy and jealousy eating away at him. Holidays together make matters worse and finally Osmond delivers the emotionally distraught outbursts, the arguments and baiting that dominate the latter parts of the play. He transforms Halliwell into a previously unseen figure; a man of violence seeking retribution, venting all the anger that has built up over the years, and he does so in a manner that is awe-inspiring.If the play were a two-hander content with exploring their relationship even further it might be more gripping. However, a myriad of other characters making multiple entrances and exits are played by just four actors: Jemma Churchill; Jamie Zubairi; Sorcha Kennedy and Ryan Rajan Mal, who makes his stage debut. There is an excess of noisy comings and goings with shoes heavily hitting the hard floor with barely enough time to catch breath before appearing as someone else or reappearing as, for example, the beloved Edna Welthorpe (Mrs), Kenneth Williams (in a hit and miss impersonation), an assortment of Arab boys or various men in public places.Which leads to the laboured accounts of cottaging, rent boys and casual encounters. While I have no problem listening to someone’s sexual exploits with young men in a variety of venues, nor indeed of relating my own, but over the years the possible shock factor has been removed and there comes a point at which nothing new is revealed and scenarios become repetitive and as tedious as the reciting of dates from the Diary.Sound Designer Andrew Avery uses several songs by the Beatles to denote the period and also as a reminder of the ongoing saga of the screenplay Orton was asked to write for them but which was never filmed, though it was subsequently published as Up Against It. Indeed, on the day of their deaths a chauffeur was sent to take Orton to a meeting to discuss it and it was he who found their bodies. Production Designer Valentine Gigandet has faithfully recreated the atmosphere and likeness of the couple’s flat with the famous collaged wall, the single bed and added statues of Oscar Wilde and David, while Lighting Designer Luca Panetta successfully enhances the changing moods.Director Nico Rao Pimparé’s production is a welcome revival; in places highly enjoyable and moving, but there are often good reasons why a play languishes for so long without seeing the light of day.

There is deceit in the title of this play. There was no marriage of Alice B Toklas, but in the world of pretend around which The Marriage of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein exists, anything is possible.This production has made it to stage two years after its planned opening. The intended original cast and most of the creatives have been reassembled at the Jermyn Street Theatre under the highly-anticipated direction of the play’s author Edward Einhorn.It’s a curious, fascinating and quirky work, with an appeal that is rooted in the academic and literary. Einhorn immersed himself in the writings of Gertrude Stein. Her style, concerns and manner of philosophical musing are manifest throughout. Theatrically it is an absurdist and farcical welcome to her world in which many of the most famous names of the period pop up repeatedly in quickfire succession with the cast portraying four core characters and over thirty others with whom she was well acquainted. To keep track of where we are and what is happening, illuminated scene descriptors appear in the empty white picture that form an artistic set by Machiko Weston.Natasha Byrne cuts a matriarchal Gertrude Stein, with an opening that sets the tone for what is to follow; she makes introductions, announces who people are and generally controls the action with a certain air of mischief, knowing that this is something of a game. Alyssa Simon, who created the role of Alice Toklas at HERE Arts Centre, New York in 2017, appears dutiful and often a little bemused by all the activity going on around her, as though all these people really are endlessly calling at the house she lives in with Stein. That is until the end, when reality ceeps in and she makes a moving personal statement. The Stein/Toklas relationship invites discussion of the secrecy, prejudice and discrimination surrounding love between people of the same sex and towards Jews. These Jewish and homosexual themes come together in the wedding ceremony, which is the ultimate pretence.The two remaining actors each occupy a main role. Kelly Burke is a nimble and eccentric Picasso and Mark Huckett a curmudgeonly Hemingway, but with deft use of props, changes of voice, accents and quick costume changes they take on the likes of Alfred North Whitehead, TS Eliot, James Joyce, Ezra Pound, Thornton Wilder and a host of others from the modernist scene including wives, mistresses and matadors. With songs, it might make something of a comic music hall act, but here it simply reflects the theme of pretending that dominates the play. Hemingway, it is suggested, created an image of who and what he believed Hemingway should be and then tried to live up to it. The text is neither deep nor profound, notwithstanding much discussion on the nature of genius, which was something of a philosophical preoccupation at that time in these circles. Instead it reflects much of the superficiality within fashinoable society of the day and relates to the ranks of the famous being portrayed as caricatures trying to impress with outward appearances and strings on bon mots.On first hearing, it’s all very amusing, but the style soon begins to feel overworked. On reflection it’s as though the first scene sets out the methodology and practice, saying, ‘This is what I’m going to do and how I’m going to do. Now watch me do it over and over again, because as the lady herself said, ’Rose is a rose is a rose’’.

Wilton’s Music Hall has come a long way since 1885 when Nelly Power sang The Boy I Love Is Up in the Gallery. Now, she’d be spoiled for choice and the pickings would be all around her as the crew of Sasha Regan’s sixteen-strong all-male Gilbert & Sullivan’s H.M.S. Pinafore crew are all aboard for their latest foray into theatrical waters. The sound of waves and creaking timbers on entering the auditorium is a little disconcerting in a building of this age with the Thames so near, but soon we are into the overture with a stage full of burly sailors and cute cabin boys doing variations on a hornpipe. There’s no orchestra, just an upright piano (tucked in next to the front row of the stalls stage left if you want to avoid sitting next to it!). On the keyboard is musical director Ashley Jacobs, who keeps the production moving apace with playing that is loud and energetic or soft and sensitive depending on the song. His accomplishments on stage with the chorus and soloists are abundantly clear as are those of choreographer Lizzi Gee, who makes imaginative use of the split-level double-apron stage. Time to ‘sail the ocean blue’ and meet dear Little Buttercup, who in any production is never that little. Scott Armstrong makes his debut with the company in this role. His strong Aberdeen accent resonates even in the songs and he can say ‘Aye’ in a range of meaningful interpretations as only a Scotsman can. It makes for much humour and the contrast between his ‘female’ voice and his beefy physique makes him all the more amusing. (Note: Although I understand the differences, discussions left me none the wiser over singers being altos, counter-tenors, male sopranos or whether they just launched into falsetto. For the purpose of this review the terms are interchangeable or avoided!) Now the scene is set to launch this tale of unrequited love. Danny Becker, with a somewhat deeper pitch than the nightingale of whom he sings, follows with a heartfelt rendition of A Maiden Fair To See. Then behold! Here she comes, in the person of Sam Kipling, who is to steal the show, becoming the darling of us all while stunning with a top register any soprano would be proud of. Meanwhile, her father played by Juan Jackson, has introduced himself with the much-anticipated I Am The Captain of the Pinafore; a slight loss of status from playing the King of Siam in The King And I, but it’s still a major lead in this show. He’s an accomplished baritone with a resonant voice whose efforts at the gym six times a week are manifest to all. But hark! Sir Joseph Porter’s barge approaches with the sound of his ‘sisters and his cousins and his aunts’. In this scaled down production they cannot be reckoned up in dozens but the chorus is sufficient to make a large family which is often represented in its entirety by Richard Russell Edwards as Cousin Phoebe, who can be seen entertainingly scurrying around the deck doing all sorts of crazy business. This is not the ENO that recently treated us to vivid hooped frocks atop vast layers of underskirts. Designer Ryan Dawson Laight keeps the costumes minimal yet suggestive; entirely necessary when flitting between male and female chorus and roles. With the hand-size origami barge safely and symbolically sailed across a tightened rope Sir Joseph Porter KCB makes his highly anticipated entrance, to sing When I Was Lad; always one of the highlights of the show. In this satire on the contemporary political scene, David McKechnie does a superbly enunciated job of confirming Sir Joseph's complete lack of qualifications for the office of First Lord of the Admiralty and describing how he achieved his elevated rank through sheer incompetence. Some things never change! With everyone introduced, a dramatic scene between Josephine and Ralph leads to the act one finale which means it’s time to collect the daily tot. Act two brings some more delightful moments, opening with the moving Fair moon, to thee I sing from the Captain, who is soon joined by Josephine and Sir Joseph for the ever-jolly rendition of the interweaving trio, Never mind the why and wherefore. It just remains for Little Buttercup to throw a spanner in the works before all ranks and relationships can be satisfactorily resolved. Perhaps one more tot is required to reflect upon a delightful evening music and mirth before feeling inclined to take a boat up the river and head for the bunk. Juan Jackson, Captain Corcoran  photo credit: Mark Senior 

I’ll settle for the company’s own description of Under Electric Candlelight as an ‘existential tragicomedy’, but dont worry about interpreting that. All you need to know is that it’s quite simply a stunning piece of theatre with the added bonus of music courtesy of The Kinks.The story is straightforward and the play is constructed around a series of scenes in various locations. A young nurse, referred to as just Stranger, is traumatised after dealing with a particularly gruesome death in A&E. Two people become involved as he tries to come to terms with his life: his brother Damien, with whom he has a somewhat strained relationship, and Lola, a blunt and brutally logical middle-aged woman with whom he forms a strong bond and who struggles to help him find a reason to stay alive.Will Pattle (Stranger), dominates from his first entrance, as he crosses the stage dressed in bloodsoaked scrubs to stand on the table from where he seemingly looks down on the tragedy that has occurred. His delivery is sharp and the clarity of his voice remains steadfast even as he trembles with emotion, rethinks his words and muses on the nature of death. His words are absorbing and his presence captivating set against a predominantly black canvas enhanced by sound, lighting and projection design courtesy of JLA Productions. Emma Wright (Lola), is the perfect match for him. With comparable vocal qualities her Lola is assertive and confident to the point of being brash. Unlike Stranger, she knows her mind and is not afraid to challenge those around her while remaining supportive. Of similar temperament, though perhaps less helpful, Tom Isted’s Damien is self-assured, down-to-earth and earnest, again with refreshing clarity of delivery. Isted also doubles the waiter. It’s a short scene, but for those familiar with Juie Walters serving two soups the similarity is unmistakeable, but I'm assured unintentional; it certainly it provides a moment of comedy and light relief in this otherwise delightfully dark play.The cast are all assisted in their outstanding performances by the quality of the writing achieved by co-writers Alice Briganti and Will Pattle (Stranger). The conversations and monologues are natural and flow with pace and rhythm. The language is everyday, but imbued with similes and metaphors that cater for the imagination and at times make it visual. The sensitive yet bold direction by Luke Adamson (Artistic Director of The Bridge House Theatre) has clearly enabled them to work together effectively and sympathetically The end result of this this co-production in collaboration with OVO Theatre is a triumph for all concerned.

That irresistible 1970s suburban comedy, Abigail's Party, has been revived again; this time at the Watford Palace Theatre under the direction of Pravesh Kumar. With the promise that his new production ‘casts the attitudes to class and social standing of Mike Leigh’s classic in a whole new light’, this was clearly something to look forward to.Hostess Beverly breezes into the vast sitting room of her house wearing the most fabulous full-length flame dress, because for her it’s all about appearance. Goldy Notay, with great verve, adopts the whining insincere voice, takes control of everything and talks and behaves in what she imagines to be the classiest of manners, but of course, comes across as being entirely false. The play largely revolves around her and Notay certainly keeps this soiree alive, not least with plenty of gin. Her long-suffering, estate-agent husband, Laurence, is anything but a party animal and Orlando Wells clearly displays his reluctance to participate in the fun. He is socially awkward and persists in the investigative questioning of his guests’ likes, dislikes and knowledge in order to establish his cultural superiority.The marital tensions between the two surface from time in embarrassing moments as they do with the other couple. Although a nurse, Angela appears neither bright nor subtle. Victoria Brazier manages to show the cogs turning in Angela’s head to no avail as she spurts out inappropriate and dumb observations, much to the annoyance of her husband Tony. Max Gell has few words in this role but sustains the air of mystery around the computer operator and former footballer who’s ‘not violent. Just a bit nasty’.Seated, often uncomfortably, on the ‘real leather’ sofa is Susan. It is her daughter, Abigail, who is having a party down the street and Susan has left her house so as not to stand in the way of the kids having fun. Tina Chiang captures a mother’s anxiety at such a time combined with the unease of being in a social setting to which she is not accustomed, any more than she is to being plied with gin.Rebecca Brower’s set is dominated by an overwhelmingly tall floor-to-ceiling shelving unit in heavy dark wood that occupies the width of the stage. Unless the idea is that the host’s house significantly predates the rest of the 70s’ properties in the area, then if this is the sitting room (lounge?) they must be living in a mansion. Neither I nor anyone I spoke to could recall it’s like from the period in the sort of suburbia for which playwright Mike Leigh coined the phrase ‘theoretical Romford’. As for Kumar’s intention that the production would cast ‘a whole new light’ on the play, that always seemed ambitious given that the period, the script and social setting remain the same. What he states elsewhere is that ’bringing a diverse cast was essential to my vision…. I wanted to renew the themes of class and race in the play and open it up to a whole new audience who may not be familiar with the show’.The sum of this is that he cast ‘two women of colour’. This move is questionable, however, in terms of the script. Laurence is clearly unhappy with the latest wave of people moving into the area and who are changing the culture of the neighbourhood, though there is no explicit reference to immigrants or races. Nevertheless, it seems highly unlikely that he would marry a woman from the Punjab or befriend Susan. If it’s just blind casting that is fine but by definition that doesn’t transform this play about class into something to do with race.Ultimately, this Abigail's Party feels satisfactory with safe performances that remain true to the characters but often don’t achieve the levels of accentuation that the script affords.

Dev’s Army, by Stuart D. Lee, is built around critical and highly sensitive issues in the history of the island of Ireland that to this day determine its politics and its divisions. We’re told in the programme that the play is ‘a comedy that examines the first major foreign policy decision the nascent nation made independent of British rule namely, to remain a neutral country for the duration World War II’.Humour can often lighten and indeed enlighten the most serious of topics and seeing the funny side of something can be a source of relieving tension. At times this production does just that. It opens very much in the style of Dad’s Army, to which it is no doubt indebted. The Dev of this army, Taoiseach Eamon de Valera, has his image displayed on the wall near to the colourful green, white and orange flag and reminders of the country’s Roman Catholic allegiance. Designer Phil Newman has paid attention to detail in creating the tiny hut that looks out towards the Isle Man as part of Ireland's early warning defence against invasion. No doubt Paul Freeman had fun putting together the sounds for the raging winds that convincingly blast through the dwelling every time the door is opened with related lighting issues firmly under the control of Amy Daniels.Paddy Devlin (Paul Murphy), the senior former soldier in this trio of the Local Defence Force that occupy the hut, potters around the hut muttering often amusing lines to himself as he flicks through various radio stations broadcasting what have become famous lines from Churchill and songs by Vera Lyn that set the scene. He is joined by the seemingly dim-witted Michael O’Connolly (Eoin McAndrew) who becomes the butt of many jokes, which tend to be rather demeaning after a while, but it is he who will provide one of the major twists in the plot. The political tension mounts when they are joined by Dermot Ryan (Nick Danan) who fought in the First World War and is a British sympathiser. Paddy, on the other hand, is a staunch republican with exaggerated claims to involvement in such events as the Easter Rising. The first major turn of events comes with a mighty explosion and the discovery of Betty Pope (Niamh Finlay) washed up on the shore. The mystery surrounding her now becomes the focus of enquiry and questioning. From this point on the play becomes increasingly farcical before heading towards tragedy in its denouement via elements of black comedy. It makes for an uncomfortable series of changes in style and a loss of credibility that suggest either flaws in the play itself or that director Helen Niland simply hasn’t come to terms with handling the transitions.Strange Fish Theatre Company, which specialises in producing Irish drama, scored two stunning hits with Quietly and The Matchbox. Dev’s Army, at The Bread & Roses Theatre, however, is just not in the same league.

Bacon, at the Finborough Theatre, showcases the talents of two remarkable young actors in a moving exploration of teenage angst. Though this is billed as its world premiere, it was first developed at the Soho Theatre in 2018, where it won playwright Sophie Swithinbank their prestigious Tony Craze Award.Set in Isleworth, West London, it’s Year 10’s first day back at school, making the two boys aged 15. Mark (Corey Montague-Sholay) has transferred from another school, where things weren’t quite what his mother expected for her son’s education. In this fresh start, he comes over as a nervous nerd who is likely to have a difficult time making friends. This is confirmed when the rather scary Darren (William Robinson) appears and in bullying tones, which he almost certainly learned from his aggressive yet slothful father, inquisitively ‘welcomes’ the new student. With little in common, they develop an uneasy relationship of highs and lows, friendship and fear that is complex and manipulative on both sides and which takes them into their early twenties.The balance of power between them moves like the seesaw that occupies the length of the traverse stage. With blackened walls all around, the great grey plank that is initially tilted upwards is reminiscent of the roof on Vauxhall bus station. This unadorned, one-item set by Natalie Johnson proves to be highly versatile, heightening the dialogue and, when made rigid by unlatching end supports, not only suggests different locations but also the tightrope that both lads walk. Against this blank canvas, lighting director Ryan Joseph Stafford is able to evocatively accentuate interactions, create different settings and alter the mood, especially when combined with the emotive soundscape by Mwen.Robinson and Montague-Sholay play off each other and portray starkly contrasting characters. Robinson is white; his Darren is streetwise and cocky, speaking estuary English with an ‘in-yer-face’ attitude. Yet much of his brashness is a cover for his feelings of isolation, loneliness and desire to be loved, which surface more as the play progresses and the tables turn. According to his Spotlight profile, Montague-Sholay has the appearance of being black-Caribbean or of mixed race. His manner is relaxed, conformist and polite and he speaks well-articulated standard English. His Mark has all the makings of a goody-goody schoolboy who is bound to receive adverse attention from other students. His feelings towards Darren become his Achilles' heel and the source of the emotional rollercoaster that ensues.In the dialogues between them, the boys’ interactions are gripping, often humorous, frequently angry and at times touching. However, there are significant portions of the script that consist of narrated events; its as though they each have a copy of the same novel with their own passages to read out loud that describe events at school and at home and conversations with their respective parents, teachers and others. Through no fault of their own, nor indeed that of Matthew Iliffe who has directed with considerable precision, and despite their best efforts, these sections often cause the momentum to be lost.The play is currently in development for a TV adaptation with a major production company, and it’s easy to see why. Montague-Sholay’s Mark could be straight out of The Inbetweeners, but Darren provides a level of roughness and aggression that would gather a gang of volatile youths around him to provide a very different series.

Simple acts can often have huge repercussions. In 1955 Rosa Parks refused to give up her seat on the bus and became ‘the first lady of civil rights’ and ‘mother of the freedom movement’. In 1968 Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised their fists in defence of human rights as The Star-Spangled Banner played at the Olympic award ceremony and in 2016 Colin Kaepernick ‘took the knee’ to the same tune at a 49ers NFL game, protesting police brutality and racial inequality.Pravin Wilkins’ debut play, Moreno, at Theatre503, where it won their International Playwriting Award in 2020, is built around that event. The focus is not on the big national picture, but rather on how it challenged other players and clubs to declare their position or awkwardly make an attempt to remain neutral. Hence set incorporates an NFL locker room and the field of play, with the floor and walls imaginatively decorated in bright green with white line-markings. Combined with the team's red and white strip, designer Aldo Vazques has used a vibrant palette that vividly asserts itself. The opening scenes are similarly ‘in-yer-face’, with quick-fire banter, hip-hop music and guys brashly shouting at each other. This goes on for what might be called the first quarter. It sets the scene, but in terms of the whole play, it feels like more padding than the players have on their shoulders. There’s a cast of just four: Luis Moreno (Sebastián Capitán Viveros): 26; running back from Chicago; full of himself and out for the money and media attention, but beneath the façade is a kind heart; Ezekiel Williams (Joseph Black): 33; linebacker; big muscular African-American guy; no-nonsense, self-educated and knows his politics; Cre’von Garçon (Hayden Mclean): 23; Haitian-American quarterback; ‘the kind of guy who would get into a fight, lose and still walk away talking shit’; streetwise but empathetic; Danny Lombardo (Matt Whitchurch: 32; good-looking white quarterback; football is his life and the stadium his place of worship. This social and ethnic mix is put into the turbulent melting-pot of debate to be further stirred by the election of Donald Trump. Interwoven are family stories and tales of first-hand experiences at the hands of the rising right.The play movies on apace in the second quarter and the powerful press conferences certainly count as touchdowns and balance out some less-entertaining ball-passing in the second half. The ensemble works together as a well-trained team should. Each asserts his own identity, has his moments of glory but still knows it’s the team that matters. Credit also needs to go to the managers and coaches. Director Nancy Medina has some lulls in the game but along with movement director Ingrid Mackinnon fills the stage with action, vehement exposition and set pieces. Given where the characters are supposed to come from and how they should sound casting director Isabella Odoffin and voice and dialect coach Esi Acquaah-Harrison have scored a triumph in this production given the natural voices and background of the actors.With Moreno, Pravin Wilkins makes a bold foray into the world of sport, politics, the media and private lives and the play like any game has its highlights among the attempts to balance those elements and deliver consistently entertaining and thought-provoking theatre.

For aficionados of Ibsen this is a production not to be missed; nor should those who just like to wallow in the velvety richness of traditional theatre ignore this rare opportunity to see the great playwright’s enigmatic final play, When We Dead Awaken. The foremost exponents and interpreters of his works, The Norwegian Ibsen Company, have again collaborated with The Coronet Theatre, Notting Hill, to create a captivating new adaptation of this rarely performed work under the celebrated director Kjetil Bang-Hansen.Ibsen wrote the play in 1899. The following year he suffered the first of a series of strokes that increasingly weakened his health and incapacitated him until his death in 1906. Under different circumstances, would he have revised the play in any way; or developed the rather abrupt ending that comes across as something of a narrative description of later events? Or perhaps having dealt with the major issues it was his intention to bring matters to a swift conclusion. Either way, that is what we have and it’s disappointing only inasmuch that it would be enjoyable to experience more in the manner of what precedes the swift denouement.This latter-years play reflects Ibsen’s increasing introspection. His days of dealing with the ills of society were fading and he began to take a more individualised focus that highlighted issues in relationships; on people’s perceptions of how the world treated them and how they treat their world and particular those closest to them. Not that these elements were previously missing, but in this work, accurately described by the theatre as ‘a strange, beautiful and bitter play about art, love, ambition and freedom’, the soul-searching becomes paramount.The plot is also minimal. Rubek (Øystein Røger) and his much younger wife Maia (Andrea Bræin Hovig) return to Norway in the middle of winter from their extended sojourn overseas. Their relationship has become increasingly fraught and a rift exists between them. His days as a celebrated sculptor are over but Irene (Ragnhild Margrethe Gudbrandsen), the model he used many years ago for his most famous work, Resurrection, unexpectedly makes an appearance. The emotional destruction he caused her is revealed along with his true feelings towards her. As Maia becomes increasingly intrigued by the situation a rustic bear-hunter Ulfhejm (James Browne) appears and she becomes besotted with him. After various discussions, the two sets of couples independently begin an ascent of the mountain, something Rubek promised to both women but delivered to neither, during which more is revealed. There is a strong motif of male domination throughout. Ulfhejm’s is straightforward. He lords it over the wildlife and vigorously pursues his passion for hunting, which extends to women as well. Browne, with a rough southern-Irish accent, encapsulates this man’s unsophisticated earthiness. In stark contrast, Røger depicts the subtle, refined, controlling manner of Rubek for whom women seem merely a muse or a source of companionship. Gudbrandsen manifests the damage that Rubek caused to Irene’s life in the bitterness with which she tells of the suffering Irene has endured over the years. It’s another stark contrast to the carefree sense of relief that Hovig displays at the prospect of a life of freeedon close to nature. For each of them crucial turning points loom in their lives and decisions have to be made.The play is spoken in Norwegian with the exception of scenes involving Ulfhejm which are in English and has surtitles, but the staging, gestures and responses of the actors to each other often afford clear meaning in themselves. The same is true of the set by Mayou Trikerioti, whose mysterious pile of rubble from a demolished house is straightforwardly explained as the play progresses but also lends itself to symbolic interpretation. The whole work is enhanced by lighting from Amy Mae and a soundscape composed and designed by Peter Gregson.The title of the play, combined with that of Rubek’s sculptural masterpiece and the imagery of climbing the mountain suggests that what we see may not be a realistic as it appears but might well be existing in a world of remembrances that occur when we dead awaken.

Andy Warhol once declared, 'Making money is art and working is art and good business is the best art'. In many respects this maxim underpins much of Anthony McCarten’s new play, The Collaboration at the Young Vic, which explores a time in the early 1980s when the artist collaborated on and off with Jean-Michel Basquiat.Director Kwame Kwei-Armah’s bright and bold production leaves us in no doubt about the period. On entering, the stage and walls are vibrant and awash with vivid colours, projections and video footage of New York in that innovative era. The famous songs of the day blare out in disco style, complete with scratch effects. It gets a buzz going around the theatre thanks to another collaboration, this time of lighting designer Mark Henderson, sound designer Emma Laxton, projection designer Duncan McLean, Ayanna Witter-Johnson in charge of composition and DJ/VJ Xana visible in her box aloft, wearing a startling scarlet dress with a glistening gold chain worthy of the office of mayor. The set and costume design by Anna Fleischle is absolutely on the mark. Then it all calms down as the pensive and distant Paul Bettany enters, looking more like Warhol than Warhol himself. Just a few years younger than he would have been at this time, lean and just a fraction taller, everything about him captures the image of the man assisted not least by the wig of white hair, the glasses and the jeans. His ponderous, relaxed mannerisms and gentle voice are in stark contrast to the Germanic tones adopted by Alec Newman as the pushy Swiss art dealer Bruno Bischofberger, to whom Warhol had given the right of first refusal on his works since 1968 and who set the pair up for this liaison.Bischofberger was concerned that Warhol’s domination of the New York art scene was in decline as rapidly as Jean-Michel Basquiat’s presence was taking over. With misgivings on both sides, they finally agree to go ahead with Bischofberger’s idea that they should work together, despite their many differences in temperament and style. These are brought out by Jeremy Pope in his restless dancing around their studio, his berating of Warhol for having not picked up a paintbrush in twenty-three years and the effects of his drug-fueled lifestyle. His womanising and relationship with Maya forms something of a subplot and relief from the philosophical discussion with Warhol. Sofia Barclay restores a note of reality and everyday life through her determined attitude in this role.Warhol said of himself, “If you want to know all about Andy Warhol, just look at the surface of my paintings and films and me, and there I am. There's nothing behind it”. It’s a fair comment on the The Collaboration too. We see the painting and Warhol’s obsession with filming; we hear the speculative dialogue that McCarten imagines might have occurred, but it all feels somewhat superficial, rarely reaching to the hearts of the two men.As a whole, it’s not too dissimilar from Vivien Raynor’s verdict on the 1985 exhibition at the Tony Shafrazi Gallery that displayed the results of their collaboration, which she called a ‘a pas de deux’. Writing in the New York Times she proclaimed, ‘The 16 results - all ''Untitleds,' of course - are large, bright, messy, full of private jokes and inconclusive’. A few years later both men were dead: Warhol in 1987 aged 58, from post-operative complications; Basquiat in 1988, aged 27 from a heroin overdose.

The University of Cambridge did not grant degrees to women until 1948. In 1919, at the age of 19, Cecilia Payne won a scholarship to Newnham College, where she initially read botany, physics, and chemistry. Having passed her exams she received a titular title through the post, but was denied a place on the list of graduates and at the graduation ceremony. Her academic option was to become a school mistress. On the other side of the Atlantic the situation was marginally better and so she took up a fellowship at Harvard College Observatory where Harlow Shipley had just set up a graduate programme in astronomy. She set sail in 1923 and England lost the woman who was to turn the world of astrophysics on its head, despite all the efforts of the male establishment to silence her.Her story is the subject of Ross McGregor’s play for Arrows & Traps Theatre, PAYNE: The Stars Are Fire, set five years after HOLST: The Music In The Spheres, which covers her background at St Paul’s School for Girls where Holst taught. Toby Wynn-Davies reappears in the opening as Gustav Holst in a brief encounter with Payne, again played by Laurel Marks. He later takes on the role of Henry Russell in a fine display of academic arrogance and misogyny.Payne was initially devastated by the menial role she was given at the Observatory doing classifications of stars from glass plates along with the other women. Peering through the telescope was only for the boys; aspiring ladies were not allowed near it. Marks maintains the matter-of-fact manner she had previously displayed as a teenager. She allow Payne’s disappointment to show, but she is accustomed to obstacles and bides her time gently pushing towards her objectives and ultimately winning. She also shows the development of Payne’s sense of humour and progression to a more rounded person. Her polite insistence and precision of thought rattled many men who ultimately had to accet that she was right and that her research proved them to be wrong.Annie Jump Cannon as the strict Cornelia Baumann demonstrates the dutiful role of women who must learn to accept their place in life, the limitations on what they can do and simply get on with the job. Subscribing a little less readily to the dourness of life amongst the thousands of plates, Lucy Ioannou as Adelaide Ames brings a lightness and sense of humour to the task as well extending the hand of friendship to Payne, which endured thoughout their lives. Alex Stevens contributes an air of bonhomie to the setting as Harlow Shapley, the journalist turned astronomer, who was prepared to give women a limited role in his newly-created observatory, in itself a breakthrough for the times. Edward Spence, yet again enlivens proceedings and as Donald Menzel gives Payne the recognition she deserves by finally making her a professor.The versatile set by Odine Corie is easily adapted to the two plays, in this case providing a stark office environment. The scrim is again used to considerable effect, particularly in an action-packed driving lesson scene that has amazing video design by Douglas Baker, with other photography in the play by The Ocular Creative and a fitting sound design by Alistair Lax. The lighting design by Jonathan Simpson complements throughout and has its own moments of splendour.The double bill is a remarkable and admirable achievement for McGregor and the theatre company. There’s a lot of astronomy in PAYNE: The Stars Are Fire, as might be expected, but the lasting memory is of the way it is integrated into a fascinating story of triumph over adversity that pays tribute to one of the twentieth-century’s greatest astronomers, who just happened to be female.

In modern parlance Gustav Holst might be regarded as something of a one-hit wonder, though aficionados could point to many other worthy works that have a more esoteric appeal and are far less well-known than The Planets Suite. Not alone among great composers, for most of his life he struggled for recognition and throughout it with ill health and a lack of money. All of this, and much more, is brought to life in Ross McGregor’s nuanced and intriguing biographical play HOLST: The Music In The Spheres at the The Jack Studio Theatre, Brockley, performed by Arrows & Traps Theatre.For the most part this is a naturalistic, yet non-linear narrative play with flashbacks occurring as they relate to a particular phase in the overall chronological progression performed behind the scrim that is a feature of Odin Corie’s set. The design is functional and reflects the simplicity of life that surrounded Holst. The furniture is adaptable and is often incorporated into the surprising scenes of expressive movement, evocatively designed by Will Pinchin, that at intervals heighten the emotional content of various scenes. Throughout, the production is further enhanced by Jonathan Simpson’s lighting design and the sound design by Kristina Kapilin that goes beyond the obvious references to Hoslt’s music to enhance the changing moods. Two actors dominate the play but they are well supported by the rest of the cast. In a measured and temperately-paced performance, Toby Wynn-Davies captures Holst’s intellect, frustrations, ambitions and desire that all should fulfil their potential and follow their dreams. His physical actions are a reminder of the neuritis in Holst’s right arm that prevented him from becoming a pianist and the increasingly failing eyesight that beset him. At St Paul's Girls' School, where he taught from 1905 until his death in 1934, he pioneered music education, making it a central part of the curriculum. Laurel Marks plays his reluctant pupil Cecilia Payne, whom he brings to a new understanding of music, but more importantly encourages to pursue her passion for mathematics and the sciences that girls at that time were not supposed to study. Marks plays the bullied and friendless girl perfectly balancing Payne’s vulnerability and determination in her battle against the odds and visibly gains confidence and maturity as the years progress. She finds in Holst the support and warmth so lacking in the likes of the school’s High Mistress, Frances Gray, portrayed with excessive eccentricity in something of a caricature by Lucy Ioannou who also plays Holst’s sister, Benigna, in a more tempered mood.At the age of twenty-one Holst met Ralph Vaughan Williams, who was to become a lifelong friend. He is dashingly played by Edward Spence, who brings a sparkle to the stage as a young man of confidence from a well-to-do family. He stands in stark contrast to Holst’s father, Adolph, with whom he had a very difficult and somewhat estranged relationship, played in a suitably austere manner by Alex Stevens who successfully doubles in two other contrasting roles. Joy comes to Holst in the form of Isobel Harrison, whom he marries. Cornelia Baumann makes it easy to understand why he would fall for her. She also doubles as the wife of Adolphus, displaying more warmth and obvious concern than her husband.HOLST:The Music In The Spheres can be seen as a stand-alone work or with the follow-on play, PAYNE:The Stars Are Fire, that takes up the story of Cecilia Payne and her battle for recognition as an astronomer and astrophysicist in a world controlled and occupies by men. It’s equally compelling.

Bart Lambert and Jack Reitman were joint winners of the OffWestEnd Award 2020 for Best Male Performance in a Musical for their roles in Thrill Me: The Leopold and Loeb Story at The Hope Theatre, directed by Matthew Parker. That production can now be seen at the Jermyn Street Theatre, where they play the roles of Nathan Leopold and Richard Loeb respectively in this gripping piece of musical theatre.As a work of fiction the storyline would be harrowing and grim enough, but it is actually a piece of history whose consequences at the time led to what was called ‘the trial of the century’. The two young men were from wealthy Chicago families, well-educated and highly intelligent; destined for successful careers in law. Both had dispositions and inclinations, however, that would lead to their downfall. Loeb styled himself on Nietzsche’s concept of the superior man, who is above the law. His self-belief was supported by the number of petty crimes and acts of arson he had committed without being caught; the pyromania also providing a form of sexual stimulation. For more intense thrills he was driven to find increasingly serious and challenging crimes to commit. Leopold was infatuated with Loebe and the only way he could receive the affection and sexual gratification from him that he craved was to participate in all the plots he hatched. The abduction and murder of a random boy was the ultimate ‘perfect crime’ that Loeb devised, but it didn’t all go to plan. Reitman has the cool, polished appearance of an abundantly self-focussed, confident man who holds others in contempt. Measured lines and calm delivery convey the workings of Loeb’s mind and just how cold and calculating the man was and the extent to which he was able to manipulate Leopold. Lambert displays nervous subservience and the burning desire that Leopold had for Loeb with his constant pleading for attention, but also that there is perhaps more to this man than meets the eye.The space at Jermyn Street Theatre makes for a very intimate and intense production. This is heightened by Rachael Ryan’s dark wooden set, superbly lit by Chris McDonnell, including a vivid fire sequence, and the chilling sounds devised by Simon Arrowsmith. Unobtrusively onstage throughout in a tight corner, musical director and pianist Benjamin McQuigg sustains the pace of the drama and supports the fine vocals.The cast and production team have made sure that justice is done to this extraordinary piece of theatre that never ceases to thrill.

Reversed, deconstructed and re-imagined to create a truly remarkable piece of theatre, Juliet & Romeo is the inaugural long-run production at The Chelsea Theatre, following its major renovation and relaunch in early 2020. Intermission Youth Theatre has taken the Bard’s famous work and swapped the star-crossed lovers’ lines. This is no gimmick, but a clever way of achieving a new perspective on the play. As Mark Rylance, Intermission Youth’s trustee comments, “The gender change is a revelation and works beautifully… This is authentic stuff.” And it’s only the beginning. Giving more immediacy to the story, the setting becomes present-day London in the midst of a global pandemic, reminding us that Shakespeare used his own plague years so creatively. Added to that are issues in the BLM movement and young people engaged in post-code feuds. Next, the text is ripped to pieces and interspersed with newly created material devised by the company that speaks vividly in the contemporary street language of today’s youth.I didn’t understand it all and it didn't matter. Their language is not my language but then neither is Shakespeare’s. He wrote for the people of his day to understand and identify with his words and message. Intermission Youth Theatre has attempted to do the same, perhaps not for old white men like me, but certainly for Generation Z. I’ve sat through operas in foreign languages and even English, that I didn’t understand or follow, but was carried away by the power and dynamism of the actors and the splendour of the production. The same happened here. With knowledge of the original, and the presence of well-crafted characters, it’s possible to move through the scenes absorbing the visceral energy that abounds throughout this production.Juliet & Romeo is intensely of the people who have created it through Intermission Youth Theatre (IYT), ‘a unique 10-month programme for 16-25 year olds that develops creativity, builds confidence, increases life skills and encourages self-expression in a safe environment’. The Theatre is part of Intermission Youth, an organisation that was created to ‘transform the lives of disadvantaged young people’. It’s attracted support from around the world. This Juliet & Romeo class enjoyed the thrill of masterclasses from Whoopi Goldberg, Daniel Kaluuya, Andrew Garfield and David Oyelowo in addition to the benefits of the long-standing association with the RSC and Shakespeare’s Globe.Outstanding individual performances were manifold, but in the spirit of this production it's perhaps best to see it as a large-cast ensemble piece, with a skillful lighting design by Julian McCready. Darren Raymond, who has been shortlisted for the 2021 National Diversity Awards, re-imagined and directed the play that makes extensive use of a chorus, members of which casually occupy spaces around the grey-toned set of sturdy boxes that are moved to create different levels and scenes. They wear matching hoodies and joggers all from the costume and set designs by Delyth Evans. To give maximum opportunity to the youngsters the play is double cast: the leads of one night are the chorus of another night.Juliet & Romeo is much more than just another production. It’s a thrilling and uplifting expression of what drama and theatre are all about. Here we have an ethnically diverse group of young people drawing inspiration from the nation’s greatest playwright to create a work that resonates with meaning for them and society today. As Shakespeare said, “Youth is hot and bold”, which pretty much sums up this production.

Banksy’s works pop up in all sorts of places, but seeing them is often a challenge. For his devotees or just the curious, The Art of Banksy overcomes this problem for those who can make it to the gallery at 50 Earlham Road, Covent Garden, that is currently booking till May 2022. There you can enjoy the experience of immersing yourself in Banksy.The exhibition is made possible by loans from private owners enabling the world’s largest collection of over 90 authenticated Banksy works to be put on show in a cavernous basement venue that perfectly fits the bill. The walls are black, as are the floors, except for exposed patches where the paint has worn off. Tightly focussed lighting highlights each work in contrast to its surround and maximum use is made of the extensive space for each work to have its area.The exhibition is a display of how Banksy’s famous public works that often appeared overnight on walls have been integrated into a repertoire of prints, canvasses, screen prints, unique works and limited-edition pieces which are mainly dated from 1997 to 2008, a period in which he produced some of his most outstanding works. In addition, witty, subversive and critical quotations from the artist adorn the walls and at various points it's also possible to watch exclusive video interviews with Banksy’s former printer, that provide insights and historical background. We’re reminded that “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable” and that “If you are dirty, insignificant and unloved then rats are the ultimate role model”.The display is both chronological and thematic, the latter arrangement showing various interpretations of the same subject matter.There are also explanations and examples of processes involving inks and proofs and some of the most famous works are represented including Girl with a Balloon, Rude Copper, the Turf War portrait of Winston Churchill and his largest work that became part of the controversy surrounding Exit Through the Gift Shop. To help with viewing there is an audio set with further information on some of the pieces.The exhibition comes with a warning that “the Art of Banksy is not authorised or curated in collaboration with the elusive man himself”. That perhaps is to be expected. More surprise has been expressed at the cost of the tickets; the irony, of course, being that this is the very sort of capitalist endeavour, complete with souvenir shop, that Banksy would rail against.

Writer/Director Paul Stone has unearthed a gem of World War II history and transformed it into a delightful monologue, now on stage at the King’s Head Theatre, Islington.For Queen And Country tells the remarkable and almost unknown story of Major Denis Rake MC, which Stone discovered while making the BBC TV programme Secret Agent Selection. A book about him, The Shooting Star: The Colourful Life and Times of Denis Rake, MC published by Geoffrey Elliott in 2009 filled in all the details.Born in 1901, Rake would not have realised that his upbringing in Brussels as the son of an English Times correspondent and Belgian soprano were to be the foundation of his later career. He became fluent in English, French, German and Spanish while working as a youngster in a circus where he experienced life in an occupied country and his father being shot for aiding the Allies. He had flings with many men in his early years and moved to work at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, with Ivor Novello. With the start of World WAr II he was recruited by Churchill’s Special Operations Executive as a wireless operator and spy.He was told to keep his head down, get a job and blend in, at which point he decided the best way to to find out what the enemy was up to, whilst maintaining an unlikely cover, was to become a drag queen and entertain the Nazi officers in the night clubs of occupied Paris, where they would be at their most relaxed and talkative.Inevitably there is much more that follows in terms of captures, imprisonment, escapes and wild encounters. There are also the lovers, the losses and the entertainment. All this provides ample material for revealing the details of Rake’s extraordinary life. Neil Summerville clearly relishes telling the story. He enters carrying a small red suitcase and wearing a plain brown suit that belies the transformation that is about to unfold, though the rack of glittering dresses, already on stage behind his make-up table, serves as a huge clue. Summerville is thoroughly engaging as he reveals the chapters in Rake’s life. After a little background it’s time for work and so we see the makeup go on line by line. The bright red lipstick demands an equally vivid and glittering dress. Then, voila! She’s ready to go. Well known songs of the period are given amusing rewrites with lyrics that fit the circumstances. There are suggestive glances, an abundance of double entendres and innuendos that are anything but innocent. There is plenty of wit and humour along with some jolly good laughs. Some lines are predictable and not all land perfectly, but the evening is carried through with sincerity and style.Summerville's performance leaves a sense of having been truly entertained and also of being rewarded by learning about the life of an outstanding individual who was awarded the Military Cross for his efforts. Like works on Alan Turing, it also adds to the increasing catalogue of contributions made by LGBT+ people to the war effort. Unlike Turing’s, this story has a happy ending.

The Tony Awards for comedy must have had a lean year in 2013 when Christopher Durang won Best Play for Vanya and Sonia and Masha and Spike. Or is it that the comedic gulf between America and Britain allows for success in one country and a mixed reception in the other? Vanya (Michael Maloney) and Sonia (Rebecca Lacey) have enjoyed a simple and uninterrupted life in the family home for over fifty years. David Korins has created a delightfully warm, inviting and cosy set for this location. She was adopted by Vanya’s parents, now deceased, and they live as brother and sister. This is all a world away from the celebrity lifestyle of Vanya’s real sister, Masha (Janie Dee) who fled the nest and became a film star, though her fame is now in serious decline. Her money pays the mortgage (why do they still have one?) and all the household bills, leaving them somewhat beholden to her. She turns up on a rare and unannounced visit with her latest toy-boy Spike (Charlie Maher) in tow. Ostensibly she’s here to attend a posh costume party in a neighbouring house but she also intends to break the news that the house will be going up for sale. If the names alone are not enough to give the game away, the action is an overt usurpation of various themes and circumstances from the collected works of Chekhov, complete with cherry trees that may or may not constitute an orchard. Those familiar with his works will see the resemblances, but such knowledge is not a prerequisite for understanding the play; it’s hardly profound.Maloney captures the frustration and boredom of a plain woman who has never found a man to be her partner. The surprise up her sleeve comes when she turns on her Maggie Smith voice, reminiscing about the party, and delivers some grittily intoned lines. Lacey’s delivery and timing embrace the script and he has an exhausting act two monologue that is somewhat repetitious and seems to go on for ever, but for which he must be admired. Dee lifts the level with her extrovert takeover of the house, looking every bit the star in manner and attitude, while Maher boldly flaunts his impressive physique because that’s about all Spike can do.Supplying an element of Greek tragic form Sara Powell has numerous spectauclar and impressive outbursts delivering dire warnings and impending doom from the messages in her head. In a sort of voodoo shamanistic style she seems possessed for a while before returning to her normal self as the housekeeper. Unsurprisingly her name is Cassandra. In stark contrast, Lukwesa Mwamba, in a delightful West End stage debut, plays Nina, the young neighbour, aspiring to be an actress, overwhelmed at meeting Masha and impressed by Spike.There’s a flow of humour and even some good laughs in this play, but much of it is no more than amusing and insufficient to carry it off as an outstanding comedy.

Some people pace up and down, others rock back and forth. There is an opportunity to see both movements performed with considerable style in the Beckett double bill of Footfalls & Rockaby at the Jermyn Street Theatre and it only takes forty minutes.The stunning simplicity of Simon Kenny’s set is breathtaking for those of us into minimalist design.White strip lighting delineates a cube, containing the rocking chair, and the walkway that leads up to it. Everything else is black. He, like director Richard Beecham, is assisted or even bound, by the meticulous instructions Becket gives for every aspect of the production of these plays. Minor changes exist but the harmony of design and costume by Kenny, lighting by Ben Omerod and sound by Adrienne Quartly stands out in creating the soulful, mysterious and haunting setting for these two poetic works.When directing Footfalls, Beckett commented that it was “chamber music; it’s got to be perfect”. Charlotte Emmerson clearly embraces that injunction in her meticulous performance as May. It’s all about timing. A bell announces each of the otherwise seamless four parts and then with metronomic precision the measured walking begins, each step heard clearly in a crisp meeting of the hard surface and the heel of the shoe. With arms folded as though embracing herself she looks up and addresses her dying, or even dead mother and the haunting voice of Siân Phillips is heard in response. The dialogue is often vague or obscure with meaning implied rather than stated, with much owed to the psychology of his day.In a delicate passing, Phillips enters the stage as Emmerson exits through the same space and establishes herself in the rocking chair for the next play, which demands similar precision. She hears her recorded voice relate episodes from her own life and that of her dead mother, that without expression she is clearly reflecting upon. The clarity and intonation of Phillips’ words filled with eerie nostalgia are a joy to hear and her focussed look into space a study in discipline.Footfalls & Rockaby is a rare oportunity to see two hypnotic performances in seldom-performed works by one of the greatest dramatists of the twentieth century.

Luke Oldfield’s Accidental Birth of an Anarchist at The Space on the Isle of Dogs tells of two novice activists from The People’s Movement to Protect the Planet who get jobs on a North Sea oil rig with the sole intention of staging a sit-in protest. Alice (Aurea Williamson) and Lia (Pip O’Neill), working from within, rather easily discover the code that will open the door to what is presumably the operational centre of the facility that contains vital instrumentation for it to function and be safe. Believing they have a window of opportunity in the security rotas to enter the room and glue themselves in, they nevertheless come unstuck when the Captain (Michael Jayes) makes an unscheduled visit. Alice knocks him out, despite their commitment to non violence. He quickly comes round and after some chat they raise him from the floor and tie him up in a chair. Loosely secured, they are able to explain their intentions, albeit rather vaguely. What follows is a series of conversations about companies putting profits over lives, the state of the planet, the rights of protesters, the nature of activism as opposed to terrorism and just how many years the women might spend in prison once all this is over. Veganism, pizzas and Tupperware also manage to enter the fray. Released from his bondage, shades of Stockholm Syndrome seem to beset the Captain and ultimately there is a reconciliation as the rig, in the midst of adverse weather and a possible military intervention, faces a massive technical glitch that could destroy it. The explosive noises and the theatre filling with smoke suggest at least one of those things happened to end the tale.Director Neil Sheppeck, assisted by Francesca Boccanera, has chosen a rectangular thrust stage on which to set the play, perhaps to suggest the confines of the control room, but it brings with it the associated issues of blocking. In some cases this might not be an issue, but given the often poor enunciation and low-level delivery of the cast it doesn’t always work well. While the play tries to link into current environmental concerns, the activism of the two women seems to have come from some dizzy, ill-conceived, drawing-room conversation or text-book guide to protesting. It lacks the passion and depth of people truly committed to the environmental cause. Hence, there is a huge credibility issue surrounding them and why the Captain, who in Jayes’ lacklustre portrayal seems to volunteer himself as a hostage, doesn’t just walk out of the situation and have them arrested. In a play that has adapted the title of Dario Fo’s famous work, some elements of his style might have been expected. Instead, we have a far-fetched incident of two would-be, yet very unlikely, anarchists, without any elements of bawdy slapstick or the use of alienation effect, both of which might have given much-needed extra dimensions to this unconvincing plot and pedestrian production. Even that famous willing suspension of disbelief doesn’t carry the day for this play.

As W S Gilbert once observed, “Oh, wouldn't the world seem dull and flat with nothing whatever to grumble at?” Cal McCrystal provides plenty of material for that in his production of HMS Pinafore at the London Coliseum for English National Opera, interspersed with some fine moments, making it hit and miss throughout.In an opening more suited to old-time music hall, the celebrated performer of G&S and accomplished bass-baritone, John Savournin, later to appear as Captain Corcoran, gives an interesting and witty introduction to the work, which is unfortunately interrupted by Les Dennis who pops through the curtain to make sure everyone knows he’s been brought in to perhaps give this show added popular appeal, and in case anyone is still unsure of his qualification for the part of Sir Joseph Porter he asks Savournin not to mention Family Fortunes. Why would he? Tacky pantomime tricks of this sort are to become a recurring theme and so the tone is set for what is to follow.With that little episode over, conductor Chris Hopkins takes to the podium and establishes the vigour and pace with which he wants to imbue this production. It's an energetic start that is sustained throughout by the orchestra. His success in the pit is matched on the vast stage by the magnificent set design by takis. The decks of the ship are highly polished and the double revolve is used with spectacular effect to provide two onboard settings and in a mighty rotation ahead-on view of the expansive hull from sea. The scale of this is stunning.Enter the men’s chorus, which does a fine job throughout, wearing the cleanest uniforms in the history of the navy; brilliant white breeches with blue and white striped t-shirts; another triumph for takis. Officers’ uniforms are traditional but it is with the entrance of the sisters, cousins and aunts that a blaze of colours like a firework display explodes onto the deck as the vast hooped skirts of the vivid frocks swirl with every movement. The quality of their singing more than matches that of the men.What could possibly go wrong? Nothing with the esteemed contralto Hilary Summers as Little Buttercup, who, by the standards of this show, if anything, is understated. Likewise Josephine Alexandra Oomens and Elgan Llŷr Thomas give traditional interpretations of the frustrated lovers Josephine and Ralph Rackstraw; she with operatic grandeur, he with lyrical verve making a delightfully well-matched couple. At the mischievous end of the plot, Henry Waddington menacingly lurks around as Dick Deadeye issuing dire verbal warnings and threats as well as breaking into song with his resonating operatic bass-baritone voice. Bethan Langford as Cousin Hebe in a stunning frock and wig shows just how to make the most of a minor part, remain in character and steal the show on numerous occasions, sometimes with just a glance.Choreographer Lizzi Gee keeps the show rolling along with some large-scale set piece routines. However, the motifs of flag and neckerchief waving soon become predictable and worn by their repeated use. There is the delightful addition of a tap dance to open act two in which Savournin shows just how versatile and talented he is. He’s joined in this by an addition to the cast in the form of a young boy named Tom Tucker, referred to as a midshipmite, played on this occasion by Rufus Bateman, although other performances feature Johnny Jackson. Bateman, aged nine, is clearly extremely talented as a performer, especially in the aforementioned tap sequences, eliciting huge admiration. The character, however, is a diverting comic addition and thoroughly annoying, popping up in scene after scene as a sort of impish lackey to the Captain.He’s one of many elements designed to raise a laugh; the cat, the birds, especially the albatross, and even an effigy of Boris Johnson. Then there is the woman, bent double in a deep green frock with a walking stick, wandering around the stage apropos of nothing and getting in the way; an unnecessary and somewhat offensive caricature. Less galling, but equally out of place, is the smutty humour which seems to have replaced the customarily updated satire of G&S, with its digs at the current political and scene. There are some moments of that, but they are overwhelmed by a preference for cheap comedy.Which brings us to Les Dennis. Despite his RSC credentials the main feature of his performance in keeping with the operetta is that he seems to be all at sea. Often at odds with the orchestra he struggles to keep pace with the lyrics in the Major General solo, despite combining speaking and his best attempt at singing. He is just simply not in the same league as the other soloists and his buffoonery is no compensation.

Ronald Harwood’s The Dresser evokes memories of a bygone age in British theatre and no setting more befits it than that glorious monument to thespian achievement, the Richmond Theatre.Having trained at RADA, Harwood joined Sir Donald Wolfit’s Shakespeare company and aged just nineteen became his personal dresser from 1953 to 1958. Wolfit was then fifty-one and had an established reputation as a classical actor, being particularly renowned for his performances as King Lear and Richard III, parts of the former being the play within this play. He came to recognition as Hamlet, however, and it was the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre’s refusal to sponsor a regional tour that led him to form his own company in 1937 and take to the road; a move that prompted Hermione Gingold to observe that "Olivier is a tour-de-force, and Wolfit is forced to tour”.It was the last great period of actor-managers, who had dominated theatre for centuries but whose professional style would significantly wane after World War II. Matthew Kelly takes on the role of Sir, about to give his two hundred and twenty seventh performance of King Lear. The years, however, are taking their toll. He is increasingly uncertain about which play he is about to perform and of the opening lines. In a delightfully comic error he blacks up for Othello before being reminded that tonight is Lear. That scene is also a reminder of how times have changed in the theatre. His confusion resolved, Sir rails against the bombs dropping around the theatre on this night in 1942 in the same manner as he launches tirades against the storm and the annoyances of those who interrupt his preparation. Kelly delivers all the pathos, humor and eccentricity of a man who has known better times and now approaches the closing chapter in his exceptional life, yet is unwilling to give up.Sustaining him and seeing him through it all is Norman, his faithful dresser. Julian Clary needs no introduction, but to see him on stage in a full-length, serious play reveals a side to him that is less well-known. His customary camp style is played down, but emerges from time to time in a number of asides, witticisms and mannerisms. He is comforting to Sir and yet can also be argumentative and petulant, but overall his mincing around the stage and delivery is rather monotone and low key. Tim Shortall’s set cleverly transforms from the classic dressing room to the backstage wings from where the performers make their exits and entrances and all the paraphernalia of sound-effects equipment is set up. Enhanced by Ben Ormerod’s lighting, the two locations are effective and convincing. Director Terry Johnson has done a valiant job with this endearing work, in which he is aided by some delightful performances from several actors. The play, however, rather like Sir, has probably had its day, outside of the nostalgia some might find in a piece of theatrical history.

Australian playwright Alana Valentine makes her UK debut at the Finborough Theatre with The Sugar House, in its first production outside of her home country, where it was nominated for Best New Australian Work in the Sydney Theatre Awards 2018. Matriarchal power and influence, or in some places the lack of it, dominate this intergenerational story of working class people on the wrong side of the law. Janine Ulfane gives a powerfully impassioned performance as grandmother June, the dominant head of the house, bringing the bitter experiences of the Macreadie family over the years to bear on the current situation. The belief that ‘bad blood’ has passed through generations of this family, despite all efforts to overcome it, lies deep in her veins, and Ulfane manages to contrast June’s hard-hearted worldliness with moments of vulnerability and painful reflection. Her daughter, Margot, has other issues. If you have any experience of people who carry a chip on their shoulder, then you will recognise how vividly Fiona Skinner demonstrates Margo’s overwhelming conviction that her brother Olli (Adam Fitzgerald) was always the favourite child. Her bitter resentment surfaces time and again in every argumentative encounter filled with blame that she has with her mother, be it her daughter’s rebelliousness or her failed marriage. Jessica Zerlina Leafe is charged with being her daughter Narelle, whose character appears at three different ages. She captures her as an inquisitive eight-year-old, a rebellious and anarchistic student and ultimately as a successful lawyer. Her portrayals are convincing, ranging from the cute and curious, to the raging and resentful and in the bookending stage, the confident and committed. There is plenty of material here, but the play interweaves much more, giving the feeling that it is trying to do too much. It engages in the issue of gentrification that has turned the industrial area of Pyrmont, where the sugar factory once stood, into a warehouse wonderland for well-oiled flat-hunters. Narelle’s grandfather worked there and so we have elements of his story and his relationships with the rest of the family, all very well done by Patrick Toomey as Sidney Macreadie who also plays numerous other parts with equal conviction. The concern raised by the looming execution of a prisoner raises the capital punishment debate that is stretched to encompass the unlikely consequences of Ollie Macreadie’s brushes with the law. Fitzgerald successfully brings a range of emotions to this role that reveal Ollie’s sensitivity, naivete and potentially brutal nature. Lea Dube, in her professional stage debut, convincingly portrays the gradual acceptance and integration of his girlfriend Prin into the family, but that is yet another strand. Director Tom Brennan has skilfully blocked the characters in the narrow confines of the Finborough, giving them space to pour out the emotional intensity of this work. He’s helped by Justin Nardella’s compact set that very simply conveys the old and the new of Pyrmont. The Sugar House presents an exciting opportunity to see a modern work from Australia and some very impressive performances.

A stony silence filled the air at the end of act one of Joe & Ken at The Old Red Lion Theatre, Islington, the old stomping ground of the eponymous couple who lived just down the road. No one was moved to clap and the tension was broken only by the request to leave the upstairs room so that 25 Noel Road might be transformed into the holiday flat in Tangiers for act two.The difference in the settings was negligible, but imagination can work wonders. While the conversation changed from trolling London’s toilets to banging compliant rent boys in Morocco, the bickering, arguing and tedium of a shared existence remained as claustrophobic as ever. Living together was never easy for Joe Orton (Craig Myles) and Kenneth Halliwell (Tino Orsini). As Orton’s career flourished and he achieved celebrity status, Halliwell’s insignificance as a writer increased and he became more of a social recluse and embarrassment. His mental health deteriorated and his dependence on prescription drugs rose. Ultimately, overcome with envy and marginalisation he ended both their lives in one of the most dramatic scenes he ever created. The hammer is poignantly on the table from the outset. Halliwell can't even successfully use it to stick a nail in the wall to hang a picture. He failed at everything, except in delivering the blows that cut Orton down in his prime.There is often a problem with retelling well-known biographies and probably everyone seeing this production knows only too well all that has been written about Orton and Halliwell. Writer/director John Dunne, for JD Productions, has created some contrived role-playing scenes; games that the boys play to relieve the monotony of their existence and that try to inspire some creativity in Halliwell for a play about their lives. There is nothing new or revelatory here, with well-known events rather painfuly woven into the text. Myles and Orsini rattle off lines that seem to carry little conviction and some hesitancy at times, even eight days into the run. Direct addresses to the audience pop up, but seem strangely out of place as does the finale. Orton goes for a walk, leaving Halliwell by himself. Then, in a complete disconnect from that scene, Orsini, in something of an epilogue, tells in the first person how Halliwell ended both their lives and the play is over.Joe & Ken is disappointingly dull and certainly wouldn't entertain Mr. Sloane.

The Salem witch trials are well known, perhaps in large part due to Arthur Miller’s outstanding play The Crucible that put the Massachusetts town on the map. Those in Manningtree less so, and Vickie Donoghue’s adaptation for the stage of Beth Underdown’s award-winning novel, The Witchfinder’s Sister, taking the same title, is unlikely to put the town on the map of Essex.On entering the auditorium we are greeted by designer Libby Watson’s stunningly impressive set. Its vast scale is dominated by sturdy wooden beams and uprights, in places reminiscent of scaffolds, they form frames for exits and entrances in various locations and matching doors are flown and lowered to make the image complete, along with staircase to offstage levels. Trimming the forestage are rows of grasses that suggest an open marshland area and these are repeated on the other side of the house far upstage. Some vivid red metal chairs are located in various places, some as though blown aloft by a storm, the symbolism of which escaped both me and my friend, but they look spectacular; perhaps ducking stools. Costumes blend perfectly into this setting until closer analysis fails to identify them as either roundhead or cavalier or indeed place them uniformly in any particular period.The lighting design by Matt Haskins fully complements the set and there are some spectacular sudden changes from the soft tones of everyday life to shafts of steel that illuminate the more surreal moments. Owen Crouch’s sound design is imaginative, if excessively loud at times, but gives much-needed support to moments of heightened tension and impending events.The play is based on the activities of the infamous witchfinder Matthew Hopkins (George Kemp), who from 1644 until his death in 1647 was responsible for the deaths of more alleged witches than in the previous hundred years. He was also well-known for paying informers to commit perjury in order to secure a guilty verdict. The story, however, is told through the hard times of his sister, Alice Hopkins (Lily Knight), who comes home to live with her brother after the untimely death of her husband. There she finds her brother to be distant, controlling and secretive; all of which Kemp effectively displays.With the focus on her rather than him the play is devoid of any dramatic courtroom scenes, trials and interrogations and instead becomes a rather bland tale of family history and secrets, people’s motives, and the unravelling of a few somewhat mysterious events. Knight holds the storyline together and is earnest. Jamie-Rose Monk, as the matriarchal housekeeper, maintains order and strictly follows her master’s wishes. She makes sure that Grace (Miracle Chance) is kept in her place and prevented at all times from idleness. Chance gives a suitably fearful and trembling portrayal of life on the bottom rung. Much of the family’s past, and everything that goes on in the village, is known to Bridget. Debra Baker captures her well-intentioned nature and sense of justice in a down-to-earth performance that is warmly worldy. What we know of the trials is told by Rebecca (Anne Odeke), who stays in the house for protection, as one who will give evidence against others and defend her mother. Odeke performs with passion and gives the production a much-needed lift in act two.The production is directed and choreographed by Jonnie Riordan who has made a valiant effort to put life into a bland story and somewhat emotionally numb script that gives the impression of being all back story rather one that confronts the main issues. As a domestic tale it is nothing special and with major events reported rather than witnessed it generates a feeling of frustration.

Rat King at The Hope Theatre, Islington, is a new production written and produced by Bram Davidovich for Kryptonite Theatre Company. Storytelling is at the heart of what they do, particularly by challenging preconceptions and bringing together issues that are often neglected or underestimated.Family conflict, mental health, homelessness and love feature as the main strands in the play. It may not sound like the most fun combination, but the imaginative handling of these issues through the lives of two people makes for a gripping tale of pathos and soul-searching.Kelly (Matilda Childs) is sixteen; a schoolgirl from a comfortable family background. The military background of her father gives him a disciplined, formal and practical approach to her upbringing. Her mother is more liberal and just wants what’s best for her daughter. Their conflicting approaches to her, combined with medicated mental health issues, prompt her to run away from home. She ends up in the wastelands of the Lea river valley where she encounters Jacko (Melker Nilsson), a homeless young man in fear of others who survives on dumpster diving but has found a disused crumbling building that he calls home. His father died when he was young. His mother remarried and Jacko found himself the victim of an abusive stepfather and so he left. Childs opens the play with a bubbly introduction to Kelly’s life that exudes the confidence of a girl brought up in a middle class home. In a very different world Nilsson is first seen ranting against a wall on which Jacko is making a chalk sketch. When the two come together for the first time they create a deep air of hesitancy and mistrust. Their words are tentative, exploratory and finally questioning; and do they know how to effectively stretch a pause! They ultimately break down the barriers between them and find common ground. The air becomes lighter as the action turns to fun in looking at the stars and painting together. Inevitably, it’s not all straightforward. Both actors carry-off the emotional and argumentative see-saw that Davidovich has created with passion and intensity, making their fears and vulnerability palpable as first one, then the other takes the upper hand. They also convey that beneath all the exchanges it is happiness, fulfillment and security that they really crave.Will they find it? To know that is to know the ending and that will probably divide those who like things left hanging from those who like everything neatly sewn up. Either way, this team, under the incisive direction of Dan Phillips, has put together a powerful and rewarding piece of theatre.

It doesn’t take long to appreciate why Foxes, at Theatre 503, was shortlisted for the Alfred Fagon Award. This debut play by Dexter Flanders boldly goes where very few have dared to go before and it does so consummately.On the most basic level it’s a coming-out drama, yet until the identity of who is coming out to whom is revealed it has all the suspense of a who-dunnit. There are only two male characters. Will it be him, or will it be him, or will it be both of them? The tension is heightened because the setting is London’s Caribbean Community. The two street-wise lads live in a world dominated by traditional ideas of masculinity where the stakes are about as high as they get in an otherwise liberal, gay-friendly city. Once the mystery is revealed the implications and consequences of coming out are explored with great economy of language in plot development that just goes straight to the heart of the issues.The acts, the locations and the time frame of the play are displayed in a bold lighting and projection design by Will Monks, complete with video footage that fills the stage. Throughout, there is also the carefully crafted sound design by Josh Anio Grigg that ranges from some well-chosen songs and raps to the tremulous effects that heighten the most tense moments. Theatre 503 is hardly spacious and co-designers Erin Guan and Rita Adeyosoye have gone for stark simplicity in creating the family home in a way that cannot detract from the centrality of text. Such is the attention to detail and desire to have things done properly that director James Hillier and associate director Malakaï Sargeant have taken on the services of both a movement director, Gerrard Martin, and an intimacy director, Robbie Taylor Hunt, leaving nothing to chance. All these combine to support those on stage who work so well together thanks to the judicious judgement of casting director Annie Rowe.Daniel (Michael Fatogun) is in a difficult situation from the outset as he and his girlfriend Meera (July Namir) reveal that she is pregnant. Disowned and kicked out the house for having brought disgrace on her conservative Muslim family, she is welcomed into the evangelical Christian house headed by Daniel’s mother, the formidable Patricia (Doreene Blackstock). There she meets Daniel’s younger sister, Deena (Tosin Alabi), a dutiful daughter, but one who knows her own mind and is clearly set to get on in the world as she awaits the result of her interview with one of the biggest names in the city. Which leaves Foot Locker employee Leon (Anyebe Godwin), who spends so much time in his friend’s house he is almost part of the furniture.As the gay apocalypse opens up there are heated debates and bitter confrontations. The Bible-studying Patricia is not without chapter and verse to quote as she invokes the memory of her late husband and the judgment of God in addressing the ‘abomination’. Blackstock here is at her most vehement, having already confirmed Patricia’s no-nonsense matriarchal status that masks a kind and generous spirit that is nevertheless unable to extend to homosexuals. It’s her increasingly confident daughter who summons up the nerve to challenge her with talk of the Jesus who mixed with tax-gatherers and prostitutes and welcomed sinners. Alabi certainly knows how to ring the changes in a character who rises to the demands of every situation and is something of a detective on the side. Meanwhile, Namir displays all the concerns of a girl abandoned by her family, demonstrating gratitude for having been taken in and confronting the prospect of being a mother, less than confident about the role Daniel might ultimately play in their relationship. As for the two young men, Fatogun and Godwin perform an emotional rollercoaster packed with ups and downs and twists and turns all delivered with style, passion and integrity.The suspense is often palpable in this production, with some audible gasps from around the house coming out at times. Everything works together in this stunning production to create a groundbreaking theatrical triumph.

The Brockley Jack Theatre is currently offering the opportunity to see a rarely performed and probably almost unknown operetta by Gustav Holst. The Idea is presented by Irrational Theatre, a company that specialises in the performance of British operas and plays, celebrating the work of librettists, composers and writers. When Gustav Holst wrote The Idea in 1896 at the age of 22 with librettist and fellow student at the Royal College of Music, Fritz B Hart, Gilbert and Sullivan would have been 60 and 54 years of age respectively. Holst, having been born in England, would have grown up with their music, so it is really no surprise that, despite the gravity of his later works, he should have had some musical fun in the style of the satirical masters of 19th century English operetta, something he had already done in 1892 with Lansdown Castle, or The Sorcerer of Tewkesbury, even using the double title style they often adopted.The Idea is a short work of just under an hour, which still makes it longer than Trial by Jury. The story is simple and is told through characters very much in the style of the Commedia dell'arte, with extravagant costumes by director Paula Chitty and make-up worthy of pantomime. All is well in the kingdom, apart from the prime minister who has an illness, but its social stratification means that men and women know their roles and positions in society and there is harmony in the land. Now recovered the PM puts forward the idea he had on his stick bed. Recognising that the king is a weak ruler and that the queen is a woman of strength and determination he proposes that all gender roles in the county should be reversed. Accordingly, the knitting housewife takes up the soldier’s gun and the queen takes her husband’s throne. However his ulterior motive is to charm his way to the throne, which he feels will be easier with a woman than a man. He has another minor idea which he throws into the melting pot that causes some consternation, but, as with all works of this sort, the muddles and debates are eventually resolved and life goes on as before. This arrangement of Holst's work is by Patrick Vincent, who also plays a range of instruments during the performance with Laurie O’Brien on keyboard. The cast consists of Ross Hobson, Valeria Perboni, Simon Mulligan, Elena Hogg and John Stivey. They all enter into the silliness of the work and there is some fine singing with energy and pace to carry the piece along including dance gestures devised by Elizabeth George.If you like G & S you will certainly enjoy this and it’s fun to think of the stories and songs that come to mind from their works as the music and plot moves trippingly along.

The renowned Finborough Theatre is still alive and well as witnessed by its latest production of Jordan Hall’s How To Survive An Apocalypse presented by Proud Haddock. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for the The Finborough Arms pub, downstairs, which unfortunately fell victim to the economic impact of the pandemic and is now closed until new owners are found. The play has come a little late for them!In any case it would have been of little help as it doesn’t quite do what it says on the tin. While mundane precautions for the end of days certainly feature throughout the piece, this apocalypse is more about dealing with disasters people face than a study of eschatology. Hence, it is not just one apocalypse but a series of actual and potential catastrophes in the lives of four people; more millennials in crisis than getting ready for the end of the millenniumJen (Kristin Atherton) and Tim (Noel Sullivan), married for five years, currently have more pressing matters to deal with, anyway. He is a well-meaning game designer who is out of work and feeling somewhat inadequate. She is the editor of a lifestyle magazine that faces financial collapse. The chair of the board, whom Jen regards with considerable suspicion and sees as a threat, brings in Bruce (Ben Lamb) to sort matters out. He is a survivalist of the hunting, shooting and fishing type. Though Jen resents his presence she develops an attraction to him and also takes up her own apocalyptic preparations in the form of storing rice and making jam. Open another strand in this story with the introduction of Abby (Christine Gomes), her best friend from university days, who has recently come out of a relationship and becomes the ideal candidate for being introduced to Bruce, because you’d never do anything with your best friend’s new boyfriend nor indeed betray your husband, would you?The complexities of these relationships smoulder through act one but ignite in the second half when this wonderful quartet of actors really show what they can do. Atherton dominates the action with Jen’s storyline and powerful delivery but also manages to calm herself to reflect upon her situation. Sullivan captures Tim’s vulnerability and sense of inadequacy and frustration with his present predicament but pulls out some surprising strength of character when the occasion demands. Lamb exudes an air of professional competence and plays the smooth yet macho man who appeals to both women and it is no wonder that Gomes with her soft voice, stunning looks, charming presence and a wonderful outfit makes him fall for Abby, who also knows her own mind and is not an easy catch.The production is backed by a strong team of creatives. The Finborough Theatre operates in a tight space and it is always remarkable to see just how much designers can achieve within its confines. Ceci Calf’s set is initially minimal. The built-in sofa against the wall is basic but the sense of being a home in which artistic people live is supplied by an overarching wooden web, while the sole table features as part of the dining room, the office and an integral support for the tent when everything is transformed into a woodland campsite. Lighting by Adam King changes appropriately with locations and moods, but it is stunning in the bar scene with deeply warm colours that transform the setting. All of this is accompanied by the outstandingly subtle yet enhancing soundscape created by the theatre’s Associate Sound Designer Julian Starr who accoplished the feat from his native Australia where he is currently sitting out the pandemic.Directed by Jimmy Hall, this production highlights the talents of all involved. It’s a pity the play is not more tightly focussed and clearly defined in dealing with the ostensible topic and the lives of its characters.

The long-awaited Hamlet, directed by Greg Hersov, is finally on stage at the Young Vic and as the young prince Cush Jumbo gives a commanding performance that keeps the whole production together.It is no mean task, for while she shines through and holds the stage, much of what surrounds her and should support her falls short of the mark. The set, designed by Anna Fleischle, does no one any favours. It leaves a barren forestage in which actors become isolated and the three towering abstract blocks behind it with matching sides fail to give a sense of either time or place. Nina Dunn’s projections in the hazy mirrors are presumably intentionally unclear, or it might just depend on where one is seated, but they give only the vagauest impression that something mysterious is going on. It comes particularly unstuck in detracting from the intimate encounter between Hamlet and his mother in her chamber and makes for clumsiness in trying to hide Polonius behind what should be an arras, leaving his death as a distant event. Costumes are well-suited to the actors and their roles but there is no sense of unity about them other than being relatively modern. Combined with the set, all seems to be floating around in an unfocussed world.The pervading sense in this production is of an actor’s free-for-all in which some have latched-on to the pervading mood while others are less sure and occupy their own worlds. Jumbo is energetic, direct and clear. She has the bearing of the hip student not long out of university and in her first encounter with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern (Taz Skylar and Joana Borja), who have clearly not moved on, it’s obvious that they enjoyed some crazy times together in Wittenberg, though that mood soon changes. There is perhaps more humour and laughter in this Hamlet than is the norm. Leo Ringer’s Gravedigger brings out all the levity he can in talking about his work and those who have passed on in some amusingly light banter with Hamlet. Joseph Marcel is particularly entertaining as Polonius, making him a man of home-spun philosophy who could easily have replaced poor old Yorick as the court jester if he were not so pompous. His timing and voice, along with the decision to deliver many lines as direct asides to the audience make him particularly witty and provide a cover for his conniving. His relaxed demeanor is in sharp contrast to the stiffer performances of Adrian Dunbar (Claudius) and Tara Fitzgerald (Gertrude). Dunbar, in particular, often gives the impression of having walked in from another production in a bygone age. Looking uncomfortable in a mid-blue business suit he is given to old-style declamatory speeches that seem out of keeping with this production that strives to open up understanding of the text.Doing precisely that is Norah Lopez Holden as Ophelia. Her measured decline from the sanity of listening to her brother's words, through the domination of her father and the mockery of Hamlet becomes complete as she sets out flowers and herbs and laments in wispy songs the death of her father. While Hamlet’s mental state remains a matter of debate, Holden leaves no doubt about Ophelia’s condition in a subtle yet distressing way.In contrast to her success, attempts at innovation rarely succeed. Various musical snippets and raps feel out of place. The dance and movement sequence that pervades The Mousetrap obfuscates a turning point in the play. The decision to use daggers in the challenge between Hamlet and Laertes makes it seem clumsy and far less impressively dramatic than a spectacular duel with swords.These things conspire to create a production that seems to lack clear vision and highlight just how much it depends on Jumbo for any success. The strength of her performance and the centrality of her being on stage is nowhere more noticeable than immediately after the interval when she is off-stage for some time. Here the weaknesses are laid bare. It is production about her, and without her it would probably soon be forgotten.

How do you successfully relate the biography of a theatrical legend, tell the history of a remarkable period in the development of the arts, create portraits of the famous names of the period and incorporate the world events that shaped it? There are many ways, but to have a journalist arrive at the person’s house to ask her questions for a feature article that invites a litany of didacticism opening up chapter after chapter of her story is perhaps not the most imaginative. Yet it is the chosen means of writer, director and choreographer Christian Holder in Ida Rubinstein: The Final Act at the Playground Theatre. There is much to tell. Ida Lvovna Rubinstein was born into a family of considerable wealth in St Petersburg in 1883 and lived until 1960. She inherited a large sum of money at an early age following the death of her mother and then her father before she was ten. They were patrons of the arts, well educated and moved in influential circles, which gave Rubinstein a head start in life and eventually the wherewithal to form her own company. She became fluent in English, French, German and Italian and private tutors instructed her in music, dance and theatre. Although not a natural, she worked hard to develop her skills, becoming a dancer and performer rather than a ballerina. She moved to Paris and took up acting. Her family discovered she had entered what was then regarded as the profession of prostitutes and to save their reputation her brother-in-law, a Parisian doctor, had her declared legally insane in order to commit her to a mental asylum. Eventually returned to her family in Russia she was guarded by a chaperone until she found release in an unconsummated marriage to her first cousin. Thereafter she worked with some of the greatest names of the period: Fokine, Diaghilev and the Ballet Russe, Bakst and Nijinsky; Ravel, from whom she commissioned the famous Bolero; d'Annunzio, Debussy, and Stravinsky, whose Firebird was in her company’s repertoire. Her ground-breaking exotic performances were to be seen in Scheherazade, Cléopâtre and Le Martyre de Saint Sebastien.Her bisexuality led to an affair of three years with the painter Romaine Brooks and a longer relationship with Walter Guinness, later Lord Moyne, who was assassinated in 1944. Ten years earlier the French government had awarded her the Légion d'honneur, and then in 1939 the Grand Cross of the Légion. This highest civilian honour followed her being granted honorary French citizenship. She converted to Roman Catholicism, in which she found much solace when she ultimately faded from public view to a life of obscurity and solitude in Vence. Prior to that she had lived in England where she nursed wounded soldiers during the war.All of this is told by a variety of means. Naomi Sorkin captures the stylised movement for which Rubenstein became famous and frequently goes into this mode as she recalls her past; although it is hard to believe she always swanned around her house in this manner. There is no doubt that Rubenstein was an eccentric but Sorkin, who bears an uncanny resemblance to the eponymous lady in her later years and shares her Russian and Jewish heritage, comes across as overly dramatic in both style and voice for everyday life. Her excess in the role is heightened by the blandness of Max Wilson’s performance as Edward Clément, the journalist who is on stage with her for almost the entire play and whose background provides the twist to the end of this story. The inclination towards exaggerated performance throughout the play continues with Marco Gambino as D'Annuzio, whose lines in Italian, French and English with various accents tend to create caricatures. Kathryn Worth who doubles as Rubenstein's French maid Sorreto and her American lover Romaine Brooks fares no better in the accents department. Voice-overs with words from key figures in Rubinstein’s life are among the almost tick-box of devices including projections, period video footage and musical extracts that intersperse the production. Darren Berry successfully displays his competence on the piano as Ravel, but many of the movement sequences possess an uncomfortable naivety in their execution, particularly when taking us through the war period. The set and costume design by David Roger captures the period with the unmistakable Rubenstein chaise lounge central to the piece along with the flowing robes with textiles by Charles and Patricia Lester. A carpet on the floor would have completed the imagery and reduced the clumping noise of shoes, but the staging is sensitively lit by lighting designer Declan Randall.The play ends with an overblown scene at Rubenstein's grave that brings the production to a suitable close and really is the final act.

Love, Genius and a Walk, at Theatro Technis, a venue billed as ‘one of London's best-kept secrets’, is an ambitious exploration of how artistic individuals struggle with marriage and of the pressures placed on their partners.The musical genius Gustav Mahler (Lloyd Morris) and his wife Alma (Lisa Ronaghan), whose musical ambitions he largely thwarted, are well known. The Writer (Jodyanne Fletcher Richardson) and Steve (Stephen Connery Brown) are merely characters in this play whose marriage is supposed to mirror that of the Mahlers, but in the modern age. It’s probably not worth pondering for too long on why he has a name but she doesn’t, other than to reinforce the idea of male superiority and domination. What’s of far greater interest is the question of why they are in the play at all. There is more than enough material available to make for a gripping examination of the Mahlers: the introduction of this attempted parallel marriage fails to inform the former and in itself becomes a repetitive series of disputes in which Steve berates The Writer for wasting her time penning material about Mahler (the somewhat contrived link between the two stories) when she could be making fortunes in the financial sector as he does.That said, there are some delightful performances in this production directed by Leah Townley. A pair of the iconic spectacles give Morris a haunting semblance of Mahler. He impresses at the piano, shows how much at ease Mahler was when conducting and demonstrates his long-suffering tolerance of his wife’s endless affairs. Mahler was clearly not an easy man to live with. As his close friend Natalie Bauer-Lechner observed: ‘So changeable and inconsistent is he by temperament, that he is never the same for an hour at a time’. Morris also captures this side of the troubled man. Ronaghan’s part is somewhat underwritten and lacks depth of exploration, but she manages to convey Alma’s frustrations and her need for other men, a trait that continued even after her marriage to lover Walter Gropius (James Boyd) following Mahler’s death.Tim Hardy gives a delightfully calm and serene performance as a highly credible Sigmund Freud, not without some wit. It’s a pity that the protracted meeting he has with Mahler on the park bench is full of some of the most predictable and blatantly obvious analysis, which although apposite needs to be broken up or presented as less of a didactic overview of Freudian principles.The space available at Theatro Technis allows for the various scenes to have their locations in a set by Constance Villemot and for some delightful ‘walks in the park’ by the full cast in period costumes. These are also enhanced by the inevitable snippets of Mahler's great works.All things combine to make for an evening that is at times both exasperating and very pleasant: the former coming from the script and the latter from the production.

Noël Coward described Relatively Speaking as ‘a beautifully constructed and very funny comedy’ and this production at the Jermyn Street Theatre demonstrates how right he was.The play gave Alan Ayckbourn his big break. Having premiered in Scarborough in 1965, the year in which it is set, it opened at the Duke of York’s, London in 1967 with the well-established Michael Hordern and Celia Johnson; it also gave a major boost to the career of Richard Briers, then aged thirty-four.Greg (Christopher Bonwell) and Ginny (Lianne Harvey) live together as a couple in her London flat. One day he is surprised to find a large pair of men's slippers under her bed. They’re not his and they are certainly not hers. Suspicions are aroused and the delicate nature of their relationship is exposed. Under the pretext of visiting her parents, whom she won’t let Greg meet, Ginny makes the journey to Buckinghamshire to end her affair with Philip (James Simmons), her former employer, a much older man married to Sheila (Rachel Fielding). Greg throws caution to the wind and decides to follow her. Thus the foundation is laid for the subsequent drama. So far it is all plain sailing, but Greg takes a taxi to the station and gets on the train that Ginny misses by walking, thus arriving before her. The couple's cramped flat is now remarkably transformed into a garden patio to the accompaniment of Jimmie Rodgers’ English Country Garden; another shining example of what is so often achieved in terms of sets on the tiny stage of this theatre. Well done, Michael Holt on this occasion.Opening the play, Bonwell has a delightful schoolboy innocence and mischievous naivety that contrasts with the evasive duplicity of Harvey, whose fractionally hesitant reponses to every new question reveal how much Ginny’s mind is having to work overtime in order to save the day. Then, with the scene change, it all becomes barmy in Bucks. Fielding enters, beaming beautifully in a period pink morning outfit. She’s adorable and Simmons, playing something of the henpecked, dutiful husband, nervously hiding his deceit, is a perfect match for her. Together they make a fabulous duo of old-school actors. With the arrival of Greg and then Ginny the conversations become as tangled as the weeds in Philip’s garden. By this time costume designer Natalie Titchener has found Fielding a fabulous frock and the comedy of farcical misunderstandings and mistaken identities runs its course to the final twist.For those who want to know what theatre used to be like when much of it was designed purely as indulgent entertainment, or who wish to reminisce about a bygone age of respectability and gentility, there are few better examples than Relatively Speaking, directed with precision here by Robin Herford. Drama students could also learn a lot about spot-on timing, impeccable delivery and clarity of enunciation possessed by the cast, whose RP is a refreshing throwback to the days before mumbling became fashionable.

In addition to much discussion of the play itself, Peter Gill’s Small Change at the Omnibus Theatre Clapham had the bar buzzing with anecdotes from people recalling what their mothers said to them as children, the conversations they had with friends when young and expressions of how different life was in ‘those days’.The piece is usually categorised as a memory play, a genre that became identified after Tennessee Williams wrote a note in The Glass Menagerie saying ‘the scene is memory and is therefore non-realistic. Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic’. His words were made explicit through the character of Tom Wingfield when he says ‘the play is memory. Being a memory play, it is dimly lighted, it is sentimental, it is not realistic. In memory everything seems to happen to music…. I am the narrator of the play, and also a character in it’. All of these elements are to be found in Small Change. It is rooted in Gill’s own memories of growing up in Cardiff and is set on the east side around the docks, reclaimed marshlands and water edges of the city in the 1950s and the 1970s. It’s a story of the complex relationships that exist between neighbours, mothers, sons; two lads who grow up together. It is also a tale of traditions, moral values, working class entrapment and the marginal presence of fathers.There is no single narrator but each actor has a say at various times about what is going on and in interpretation of situations and events. The story is deliberately non-linear, at times rapidly moving from one period of life to another: in the case of the boys as small argumentative children to questioning youths and troubled adults; for the mothers through the stress of making ends meet, raising a family, dealing with husbands and confronting tragedy. The mental dexterity required to create these rapid transitions shines through all members of the cast. Often it is reinforced by physical agility in movement sequences directed by Rachel Wise that make extensive use of Liam Bunster’s minimalist set. Deliberately abstract, with white back wall, it allows for the construction of numerous locations. The door-frame sized wooden rectangle and the three long lengths of matching rust-painted boxes, reminiscent of shipyard girders, are moved around the stage with ease by the actors as they create their new setting. More importantly it leaves the mind free to focus on the changing recollections of the characters and the imagination at liberty to create a personal visualisation. With casting by Jane Frisby, George Richmond-Scott has directed with precision, bringing out the strengths of his actors who more than meet the demands of this difficult play. Sioned Jones, as Mrs Harte, captures the emotional ups and downs of motherhood and the steely fortitude required to see life through. In contrast, Tameka Mortimer, as her neighbour, Mrs Driscoll, is the woman who despite all her best efforts ultimately cannot cope and is overwhelmed by the demands of her circumstances. Gordon Vincent, as her son Toby, vehemently displays the frustrations of a man desperate to rid himself of the cloying pressures of catholicism, an unrewarding apprenticeship and the expectations of others. Which leaves Mrs Harte’s son and Toby’s lifelong friend Andy to complete the quartet. Rush Gerard gives a pivotal performance as the out-of-place lad who mis-reads the situation with his best friend and dreams of what might have been as he works his way through an existential crisis. He has some of the most elegiac and poetic passages of a play that contains several elements of Dylan Thomas. It is his scenes that are often most enhanced by the lighting design of Ali Hunter and the sound designer of Lex Kosanke, that support and create moods throughout. His fast-paced delivery of the fleeting scenes on his train journeys conjure up a sense of pace and imagery reminiscent of that created by Auden in The Night Mail. Richmond-Scott himself has said of Gill’s work, “I was drawn to his incredibly vivid language and his gift for evoking place and childhood”. The influence of D H Lawrence, several of whose works Gill directed at the Royal Court, is also noticeable in the intense relationships and strong characterisation found in the play It was also at the Royal Court that Small Change premiered in 1976. Its last London outing was at the Donmar Warehouse in 2008. This production, which superbly merges passion, poetry and physicality, is now firmly placed in the tradition of significant theatres taking up Gill’s remarkable play.

Marcus Hercules, Artistic Director of Hercules Productions, is the one-man wonder behind Prison Games, currently live on-stage at The Pleasance in north London having previouslybeen performed on line and at many other venues since 2013, including schools, universities and various secure units. Hercules includes those places on his tour and availability for a very good reason; he might just resonate with someone and change that person’s life. He developed the show by reading accounts of people’s experiences in institutions and the effects that such places have on their lives and those close to them. He doesn’t preach, but he tells a powerful story that speaks for itself.He bounces onto the stage full of Caribbean energy, engaging with us collectively and individually. He presses the immersive button and we are all on his side telling our names and being made to feel that we are all friends and in this together. Then comes the dramatic change from carnival to the tale of the family that left their island for the promise of a bright future in the colonial homeland and the young boy who decades later becomes the focus of a tragedy.A car accident sparks the boy’s decline but it is the system, his older brother and the associated wheeler-dealer merchants who ensure his rapid descent down the seemingly inevitable spiral of criminality and custodial sentences. Not that he doesn’t try to remove himself from the circle that will define his life; it’s just that he’s trapped inside it. Ultimately he becomes institutionalised to the point at which prison becomes a secure and safe home and release to the outside world seems alien. If it sounds heavy, it’s not. Hercules infuses the story with moments of comedy, dance, song and movement in a performance that is dominated by its physicality. He creates characters with his face, movements and range of voices that become recognisable and familiar as the story progresses. Prison Games ends abruptly, like the lives of those who listen to the judge’s sentence being read in court or the person who ends up in a grave. That is the reality of life and death on the streets and Hercules has captured it very well.

Two people are left standing on opposite sides of the room at the end of a housewarming party in Crouch End: the hostess and a guy who came as the friend of a friend, but on whom she’s had her eye for some time. The room’s a mess and beneath the surface so are their lives. Cleaning up the room will take little time but sorting out what’s going on between them will take the length of a real-team play, and that will be just the beginning.The Queen’s Theatre Hornchurch has opened its autumn 2021 with this revival of the National Theatre’s 2017 production of Beginning by David Eldridge which will transfer to the Theatre Royal Bath towards the end of the month. Danny (Simon Darwen) is from Upminster and although aged forty-two has been living with his mother since his divorce and keeps his feelings very much to himself. He hasn’t seen his daughter for some years. Laura (Amanda Ryan) is thirty-eight and devoid of a partner, children and a family. She is more open and at times blunt, making her needs very clear, but still manages for the most part to camouflage her deeper feelings. As she goes to work on the reluctant Danny more is revealed about each of them. There is nothing earth-shattering about their lives. Indeed, they are almost remarkable for their ordinariness. Their revelations are more of a study in the obstacles people put on the path to fulfilment and the frustrations and insecurities they suffer as a consequence.Director Joe Lichtenstein has embraced the naturalism of this work to draw out the insecurities and vulnerabilities of two people trapped in the lives they have created. Working with Movement Director Naomi Said the pair have translated the emotional distance that exists between Laura and Danny into a finely staged set of sequences that uses physical separation along with the occasional coming together to reflect and enhance the dialogue. Sustained pauses heighten the tension between them; the ice being broken only by some clumsy humour and a prolonged dance.Ryan exudes all the social confidence of an MD. Her voice is persistent and determined, yet also seductive. Darwen captures the nervous hesitancy and social ineptitude of man out of his depth being asked to talk about the emotional baggage he carries. He also provides most of the humour with some precisely timed lines that come out of nowhere.The strained air is palpable and the awkwardness of the situation would be enough to make you leave the room, which makes Beginning something of a curiosity and a challenging experience. It’s melancholy but with an undercurrent of hope that these two might finally find what they are looking for.

This is Paradise, Michael John O'Neill’s new play at the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, is a lengthy monologue in which Kate (Amy Molloy) provides a complex interweaving of the personal and the political in Northern Ireland.Born and raised in Belfast, Malloy has the perfect accent to tell this story that is deeply rooted in the Province. Standing on a boardwalk at the centre of an otherwise empty stage, with only moody cloud and wave projections behind her and haunting sounds to accompany her tale, she cuts a lean and mesmerised figure. Direction by Katherine Nesbitt leaves her physically isolated, ensuring the focus remains on her and the tale she has to tell with no distractions.Nothing in that part of the world ever seems to be free from trouble in one form or another and Kate’s life is no exception. The Good Friday Agreement brought a form of resolution to a turbulent history and provided hope for the future, but Kate is doubtful that she will ever find such a process of reconciliation with her past or bright prospects for what lies ahead. Currently she’s expecting a baby with her rather dull husband Brendy, but wonders if her frail body will survive the pain. It brings to the fore recollections of the teenage love she lost in a tragic accident and the way she was groomed into an under-age relationship with Diver, one of the many in her company of whom her father disapproved. He was some twenty years older than her and when he’d done he ditched her for another young girl. Now she receives news that he’s in a mess and is asked to help him.Thus, her troubled existence moves on to a future as uncertain as that of her homeland. Will either ever find lasting peace?

Éowyn Emerald & Dancers return to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe in a somewhat different context from previous years with their new work Your Tomorrow. Now included within the Dance Base programme their show is at the open-air Multistory, NCP Castle Terrace Car Park.The venue continues to have issues given the variable weather in Edinburgh and its structure. As there is no cover over the seating I sat in the rain for ninety minutes watching Sunshine on Leith a couple of weeks ago. In contrast the opening of Your Tomorrow coincided with perhaps the hottest day of the year so far with the sun beating down on people’s heads and necks. Also, seated on the upper level there is a railing at eye level that cuts performers in half, which is particularly annoying in a dance production. The whole idea of the Multistory needs to go back to the drawing board.That aside, the performance from this well-established company was as enjoyable as always. Éowyn Emerald choreographed the piece which ‘celebrates the private moments, uplifting intimacies and companionable bliss of the relationships that unite us’. It arose from her work with people living with Parkinson’s disease, but that is not particularly obvious as the piece extrapolates the dedication, persistence and enduring love of the families and friends who care for them. With her creativity and imagination these qualities are placed in the context of an often amusing and intimate jazz dance for two performers and 144 Ferrero Roche. Katie Armstrong opens in a 40’s style dress that swirls fabulously with her turns and Daniel Navarro Lorenzo matches the period with some slick spins and slides.In case you wonder, the chocolates are real. What's more, their website description gives the clue for including them: ‘What are life's golden pleasures? The joy of being with your family, a special love, true friendship, being together, feeling close. Such moments deserve to be celebrated with something very special, because a golden pleasure becomes even more unique if enjoyed with a Ferrero Rocher’. Quite what can be more unique than unique is a mystery, but Emerald’s choreography certainly fits into that category. These feelings are encapsulated in the movement that expresses not just elation but solitude and quieter moments of introspection and reflection. Much-needed embraces and hugs are sensitively portrayed by both dancers. As always, levels are fully explored with some delightful floor sequences of the pair rolling around contrasted with leaps and extensions that use the considerable space to full effect. The wide-ranging music is a joy in itself and suggests both period and style. Dave Brubeck, Bing Crosby, Victor Young and his Orchestra, alt-J, Joe Magnarelli, Michael Galasso, Ólafur Arnolds, Alice Sara Ott, The Chemical Brothers, Arcade Fire, Ella Fitzgerald and Count Basie all feature in reciprocity with the dance.The varied elements combine to provide a performance that is moving and entertaining.

Intricate Rituals by York DramaSoc at theSpace Triplex is a monologue with alternating actors. The role of Siken is played by Izzy Baxter on odd-numbered dates and on the even-numbered nights by Luke McDonald, whose performance I saw.Written and directed by Seth Douglas, a combination that is often not a good idea, it’s billed as a piece ‘about queer longing, catholic guilt, bugs and necromancy’. There’s also a mouse thrown in, trapped in a box located at the corner of the downstage which Siken addresses from a rather awkward angle in the centre. Cast as ‘your average gay university student’, whatever that is, McDonald does possess a considerable measure of ordinariness. The main flaw, however, is that his poor enunciation leaves much of the script unintelligible. What might be key moments in the story are often lost and he only reaches the emotional intensity of which he is capable in the final scene.The story of Siken’s unrequited love is wrapped around the tragedy that befalls the straight best friend whom he idolises. This leads Siken to find bizarre remedies to cure his condition that come from a bygone age and that no rational person would dream of pursuing. He also seems to find some consolation and meaning in the allegory of the ants.If the rituals he espouses are intricate, the play as a whole certainly is not, though its concept and tight scene structure don’t leave it beyond redemption. For the time being, however, it is singularly unimpressive, unless Izzy Baxter makes a better job of it.