‘Expertly-crafted’ ★★★ ½  A hospital curtain and 3 plastic chairs, matching the blue scrubs on each of our 3 actors – this is all Tending needs to exposit on the lives and struggles of modern NHS nurses. It does so expertly and effectively but, as the plainness of the staging indicates, it lacks that special something. No one could fault the show with a lack of realism, as lead actor and writer El Blackwood demonstrates exceptional dedication both on-stage and beyond as she brings to life interviews conducted with many current and former nurses. Combined with impressive and lively direction from John Livesey, every emotional push called for by the script is built up and executed flawlessly from sorrow to laughter, with Blackwood’s supporting actors (Anjelica Serra and Ben Lynn) having their roles down to a fine art. With these pieces in place we are guided along through the day to day lives of nurses from several departments, from ICUs to pediatric wards, who all share the same core experiences. All look after their patients, all of them care, all do their best while feeling the pinch of cuts and all have their lows. Some of them conclusively. It all feels authentic and visceral, and it’s here that the show is undoubtedly at its strongest. But there are drawbacks. The simple staging is effective yet falters somewhat in just how static things stay for the full-length, despite good initiatives of dance and movement in the first half. Further, for all the virtues of the show’s verbatim basis, it limits affairs to a mere reflection of the tried and true internal issues of the NHS; there isn’t enough staff, there isn’t enough money and people are dying needlessly. As documentary this can’t be faulted, but as theatre it’s missing an additional edge; a narrative that arrives somewhere distinct from where it started or that produces inspiring spectacle. It’s not a show that will leave you different on leaving compared to when you came in. At its worst it offers no genuine insight into an age-old and complex issue, preaching to the choir with expert craftsmanship but without any higher ambition or theatrical risk-taking. And without these, it’s just shy of greatness. Tending runs at Riverside Studios from 15 April – 4 May Written by El Blackwood Directed by John Livesey Box office: https://riversidestudios.co.uk/see-and-do/tending-156272/ Produced by Anther Theatre Reviewed by Harry Conway

‘An ambitious reimagining that falls short’ ★★1/2 In the bustle of St Pancras station, Heisenberg opens with an unexpected jolt—Georgie, a whirlwind of fast-talking unpredictability, kisses the neck of Alex, a quiet 70-year-old woman seated alone. Stevie Nicks’ “Edge of Seventeen” blasts over the speakers, setting a bold, edgy tone. This radical reinterpretation of Simon Stephens’ 2015 play, directed by Katharine Farmer, reframes the original story with a queer dynamic at its center. Jenny Galloway plays Alex with understated restraint, while Faline England dives headlong into Georgie’s manic energy. The two strike a visually compelling contrast—their personalities clashing and circling like two mismatched orbits. But despite the intriguing premise, the production struggles to maintain emotional momentum. Much of the play revolves around Georgie’s relentless monologues, delivered at breakneck speed, peppered with contradictions and emotional feints. “You must find me exhausting but captivating,” she says at one point, seemingly aware of her chaos. And that line sums up the experience of watching the play: something is captivating in Georgie’s unpredictability, but it quickly becomes exhausting without enough variation or depth to sustain it. Alex, meanwhile, feels underwritten and underutilized. Galloway’s performance suggests emotional complexity simmering beneath the surface—grief, longing, perhaps a life lived in restraint—but the script only hints at it. Her backstory is mentioned briefly and then brushed aside. As audience members, we find ourselves yearning to know more about Alex, to hear her side of the story, but the structure doesn’t allow it. Visually, the production opens with flair—an effective train-like light rush that immerses us in the space—but that initial atmosphere fades quickly. The staging remains minimalist throughout: two practical chairs are shuffled about the stage with increasing futility. That said, the production does find itself in brief, beautiful moments, most notably in a quiet, post-intimacy scene. After all the words, the play finally pauses. Georgie and Alex lie side by side in silence, their bodies close, their eyes searching. Here, the dialogue stops and something genuine emerges: vulnerability, connection, the tentative quiet that follows exposure. In these silences, the play finds its truth—an intimacy more powerful than any of the preceding monologues. Heisenberg touches on meaningful themes—loneliness, identity, grief, and the desperate human need to connect—but it often feels more like a thought experiment than a fully formed emotional journey. The writing doesn’t reach the same depth or complexity as Stephens' more impactful works like Pornography or Maria, and the emotional beats feel fleeting rather than fully realized. Still, the queer reimagining is a welcome and overdue perspective, and there’s sincerity in the work done by the creative team. But overall, the production struggles to justify its emotional investment. It promises depth but only brushes its surface. Despite some lovely, fleeting moments of truth, Heisenberg ultimately feels like a missed connection. Photography: Charlie Flint ________________________________________ Wednesday 9th of April to Saturday 10th of May 2025 at Arcola Theatre. Tickets here Cast and Creative Team Director: Katherine Farmer Cast: Jenny Galloway and Faline England Writer: Simon Stephens Lighting Designer: Rajiv Pattani

‘Doctor Who meets Monty Python’ ★★★ It is Space Year Thirty-Four Sigma Ninety-Nine. Peace talks between two great empires – Earth and Vangali – are unfolding aboard a spaceship. The fate of the universe hangs in the balance. Representing the two factions: three Earthlings, one Vengali, and the Ambassador of Xathoolian V – who looks uncannily like a green pompom. Elsewhere, a group of people who don’t know their own names find themselves stuck they don’t know where, looking for they don’t know what. This set-up gives you the best elements of Untitled Space Play. It is an ambitious, sweeping sci-fi and joyful, absurdist comedy; think Doctor Who meets Monty Python. Harry Cowper’s script shines brightest in the first half, as we hop from one spaceship scene to another, each brimming with comedic potential. The cast make the most of this potential. Dan Rhodes is especially entertaining as Captain Artemis – a comic cross between David Brent and Buzz Lightyear. His scenes opposite Kimberley Ellis’s steely Vengali General sizzle with tension and humour. Comedy is what this play does best. When it ventures beyond this, its offering is weaker. The first half throws a lot of ideas and plot beats at the wall, not all of which are satisfyingly played out in the second half. Characterisation, too, sometimes takes a backseat to humour, leaving some roles feeling thin. The biggest issue, though, lies in the convergence of the two plotlines – the peace talks and the nameless wanderers. I found it impossible to make sense of the sci-fi logic underpinning their connection. My suspicion is that if I sat Harry Cowper down, he’d be able to explain the mechanics in detail – and they’d probably be quite clever – but it simply doesn’t translate on stage. A version of the play that finds a clearer way to communicate this narrative logic would significantly strengthen the second act. Despite these flaws, the play is just so much fun – especially the first half. In these challenging times, watching a green pompom babble in alien gibberish for two hours is exactly the kind of escapism we need. One would be hard pressed to walk out of the theatre without a spring in their step. Untitled Space Play by Harry Cowper / Two Guys in a Room / The Bread & Roses Theatre / 8 – 12 April 2025 https://app.lineupnow.com/event/untitled-space-play

‘heartwarming, humorous and challenging’ ★★★★★ Has anyone ever considered the possibility of being forced to leave behind the home you know and love, and migrate to another place, due to global warming? Well, this play homes in on that nightmare, giving full vent to what we might hope is only paranoia. Whilst there are many heartwarming and humorous moments in the show, it is also challenging and quite frightening. Set in England, It imagines a future world when global warming is forcing people to move further north, at the same time migrants are continuing to come to the UK by boat. The story focuses on one couple, and one woman who has fled her country, perilously taking the journey by boat with her young daughter. We meet the late middle-aged couple, Ricky and Joe, outside in their garden with its beautiful vine. Not only are they concerned with the rising temperatures but are disconcerted when a young woman, a migrant appears. Having fled from an untenable life-threatening situation, she is trying to make a home for herself and her daughter in the Uk and is seeking a friend. The relationship between the trio is cleverly built in a series of stories, imagining different scenarios. In some the couple are welcoming, in others indignant, or scared. The young woman is sometimes looking for a friend, at other times confused and often desperate, but she is always dignified. The show has been developed in collaboration with migrant organisations and people with lived experience of migration, and the aim is to ask, ‘what happens if you welcome the uninvited Guest?’ It doesn’t shy away from the fears that people harbour, nor does it fool us that people are perfect, or that suspicions are necessarily invalid. Ultimately it shows a common humanity. It’s an in depth look from the perspective of these three particular characters. The actors are exceptional and each one of them has a very meaty role. Although the play shows each situation as a story in itself, the characters retain the same personality throughout and the through line of the story also gives a wonderful coherence to the piece. Writer Stephanie Jacob takes the role of Ricky. Her script is very characterful, giving the actors a wonderful chance to show off their skills. Jacob is delightful in her role, showing considerable charm and a playful relationship with the husband. Graham Turner plays Joe, as another warm character, supportive to his wife and having a very believable breakdown (in one of the scenarios) when he realises that he doesn’t know what to do in the face of the overwhelming situation of huge numbers of migrants appearing in Britain. It’s a very relatable moment. Now, to Erica Tavares-Kouassi who plays Hannah. She doesn’t have the broad experience of the other actors (who have done everything from RSC, National to film and TV) but she is a superb choice for the role. Having seen her twice before in very different roles, she is a very fine actress, clearly able to adapt herself to the character, yet always riveting to watch and a powerful presence. Finally, to the staging (designed by Christianna Mason) which has neat ways of bolstering the story through symbolism. Branches from the vine become loose and break away as the heat rises. The garden is surrounded by a low wall, which works so well in exploring its many meanings, used here as a barrier, or as security and also to show the huge social impact of inviting people to come in. The piece is certainly not preachy, it just reaches out and gives new perspectives on the migrant situation. Turning it on its head and imagining being that person who finds themselves in the horrific situation of needing to leave behind the home they know and love. Photography: Héctor Manchego THE GUEST presented by Cockahoop Theatre Written by Stephanie Jacob Directed by Lucy Richardson Omnibus Theatre, 1 Clapham Common Northside, London SW4 0QW BOX OFFICE https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/the-guest/ Cast Erica Tavares-Kouassi Hannah Stephanie Jacob Ricky Graham Turner Joe Assistant Director Ayal San Producer Fabio Santos Production Manager/Lighting Designer Imogen Senter Set/Costume Designer Christianna Mason Sound Designer Gareth Swindail-Parry Stage Manager Gill Wood Engagement Producer Chi Communications Manager Héctor Manchego Photographer/film maker Henri T Technician/Lighting and Sound Operator Naomi Shanson

‘Moving, evocative, funny and plausible’ ★★★★ Like most critics I approach anything enthusiastically labelled “new musical” with sceptical caution. This show, however, proved a pleasant surprise not least because it has a very powerful but plausible story at its heart. Add into the mix the talents of five richly accomplished, triple threat performers and some decent music and you have something quite impressive. Adam (Dylan Aiello) and Darryl (Dominic Sullivan) are a gay couple living in Brighton. They are professionally successful as a journalist and teacher respectively and deeply committed to each other. They are also very fit and the action opens in a rigorous gym. Then disaster strikes in the form of Adam’s diagnosis with Motor Neurone Disease. Chris Burgess’s plot is inspired by the real life story of Peter Scott Morgan, a gay man whose fiercely pro-active resistance to MND featured in 2020 Channel Four documentary. Well, I have personal experience of being the spouse/carer to someone with a terminal diagnosis although our circumstances were, obviously, different. But my own background means that my heart goes out to Darryl who tries so very hard to be positive, practical and supportive while also grappling with devastating grief. Dominic Sullivan more than nails the all-too-recognisable angst, loneliness and sometimes sheer frustrated anger because, like most sick people, Adam is pretty difficult. It’s a fine performance. Dylan Aiello makes Adam a totally believable character too. He’s funny except when terror strikes and he sees his life being snatched from him as he has to use first crutches, then a walking frame and finally a wheelchair. But the journalist in him, supported by friend and PR expert Ben (James Lowrie – good multi-roler) agrees to an intrusive, comically insensitive TV documentary. It too is an immaculately observed performance as he ricochets from horror, fear, fury, bitterness and despair. Two women Jude St James and Mali Wen Davies play their friends Ruth and Shaz along with a whole raft of minor characters and they’re both excellent. Davies, in particular, is a larger than life, very funny character actor with a terrific toolkit of accents and an unusually good singing voice for musical theatre. Chris Burgess’s music (orchestration and musical direction by Aaron Clingham) is woven into the plot integrally so that characters drop almost imperceptibly in and out of song which becomes part of the dialogue as does Philip Joel’s lively choreography. The diction is crystal clear too which helps a lot with the story telling. It all feels perfectly natural and convincing. It’s even relatively tuneful and I left the theatre humming one of the final melodies which is pretty unusual these days on a first hearing. Despite Adam’s controversial decision to have several vital organs (bladder, stomach and more) pre-emptively removed with a view to overcoming the disease with modern technology there’s only one way this piece can end, despite the dreams. And that’s nicely done too. This is evocative musical theatre with legs and, I hope, a future. Catch it if you can. SUPERSONIC MAN Writer and director: Chris Burgess LAMCO productions Southwark Playhouse, Borough 9 April – 3 May BOX OFFICE https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/supersonic-man/ The Company Dylan Aiello Adam James Lowrie ben Jude St James Ruth Dominic Sullivan Darryl Mali Wen Davies Shaz Chris Burgess Writer/Director Aaron Clingham Musical Director Steven Edis Musical Arranger Philip Joel Choreographer David Shields Designer Richard Lambert Lighting Designer Angie Lawrence Production Assistant Kevin Wilson PR Steve Caplin Graphic Designer

‘An attempt to make the lines between audience and actor blur - but instead, the line was more muddled than blurred.’ ★★ Upon entering the venue, I knew this wasn’t going to be a typical experience. It was a fun welcoming: being offered a mysterious shot of blue fizzy liquid, loud music playing, and a photographer roaming around taking pictures with the audience. Such a welcome plants an intriguing seed in your mind - curious and excited to see how the next 60 minutes will grow. Performers Alfie Lanham-Brown and George Abbott greeted the crowd with playful charm, setting the tone for an evening that blurred the lines between performance and provocation. They kicked things off by revisiting a scathing review of a past production, using a slide deck to dissect the feedback with tongues firmly in cheek. Despite other positive responses, they explained, this particular critique had sparked their new show. The premise: three live arguments over the course of an hour, the last of which would be entirely shaped by the audience. This concept had real promise, and the audience-driven format brought a sense of unpredictability. There were suggestions such as Lime bikes and climate change, yet it was ‘The Future of Theatre’ and ‘AI’ that were chosen as the topics of Debate 1 and Debate 2. At this point, the biggest strength was encouraging the audience to become accustomed to one another - in Debate 2 we were instructed to turn to fellow audience members to explain what AI was. This was fun: getting to bounce ideas off someone you just met. It was an enjoyable moment created by the structure the creatives had established. Yet overall, both debates felt a bit clunky: people shouting over each other, the leads struggling to think on the spot with rebuttals, and the limited time of each debate creating a rushed atmosphere. I was hoping, overtime - with it being explained there would be three debates in the performance - that the dynamics between the leads and the audience would find their footing. However, everything changed. This was a play of two parts. Suddenly, two audience members, sitting apart in the room, called out the same sentence at the same time. Now this is where things got exciting - audience members turning to each other, intrigued murmurings, and the reactions from the leads on stage. This clashing of sentences led to the revelation that these two “audience members” were actually actors, invited by the leads. This then sparked other “angry” and “annoyed” actors in the audience to reveal they were also planted. What we thought was reality was revealed as fiction. And with this revelation, the show had so much potential. So, it was such a shame that this potential wasn't reached. The overall downfall was the structure established by the writing. With the leads acting as though they were trying to continue the show, ignoring their “annoyed” audience members for incorrectly allotting lines, they asked for another suggestion. An attempt to continue the show. My plus one called out ‘Keir Starmer!’ - to which one of the actors in the audience responded, ‘Hey, you stole my line!’ This caused fellow audience members to think my plus one was “in” on the performance too, looking at him suspiciously and asking him questions about what was happening in the show - questions, of course, he couldn’t answer. This dynamic was a grave error: attempting to create a plot that relies on real audience members spontaneously taking part, but then discouraging and confusing them when they do so. Even during interactions between the leads and the audience-actors (when we were yet to know they were actors), I jotted down: ‘With the format of the show, it is only as strong as the audience’s responses.’ Now knowing these audience members were in fact actors, my thought shifted to: If you don’t create a strong enough structure that invites a space for the real audience to bounce off of, then the space remains empty - leading the structure to collapse in on itself. The show didn’t encourage people to turn to each other with a playful approach to this experimental theatre experience - it instead shifted people into confused and uncomfortable silences, not wanting to take part out of fear they’d be interrupting the surprise, pre-planned narrative of the show. The show unravelled and crumbled: the shouting in the stands amongst the audience-actors erupted into a chaotic dance break on stage, with the cast screaming at the audience, ‘Get up and dance!’ - to which I don’t think anyone did. When this dance broke into a fight, there was a “surprise” visit from the harsh reviewer. This bit did give me a good laugh, yet the irrelevant chaos around it robbed the moment of its full potential for humour and meaning. It was so baffling and unstructured that when the cast stood in silence, pointing at the exit - a very simple signal that the play had ended and we were to leave - the audience just sat still, unsure if it was a literal cue to leave or another confusing turn in the constantly twisting narrative. Just like the blue drink I was offered at the beginning of the show, much of the performance felt irreverent and unnecessary - even the title left me perplexed, as no actual arguments occurred. Experimental theatre should always be encouraged and advocated for - and I truly applaud the creatives for thinking of this idea. The idea of discussing what the future of theatre can be, exploring the concept of blurring the lines between audience and actor, is incredibly exciting and offers a unique experience for audiences in today’s theatrical climate. The metanarrative of choosing to have a debate about ‘The Future of Theatre’ and then revealing to the audience that this is an attempt at such a future is a bold and creative move that I greatly appreciate. This concept is undeniably fresh - yet, unfortunately, the execution was weak.  CAST Alfie Lanham-Brown George Abbott Lilybella Bayliss Giles Beattie Sahera Chohan Daniel Drema Jared Denner Elliot Ferris Alexander Gordon-Wood Sam Murphy Agata Nielsen Sonja Seva Aaron Thakar Ben Woodward Hiwet Zamelak CREATIVES Director: George Abbott Producer: Margot Cadic Stage Manager: Ruby Scott Light and Sound Operator: Alexis Childs Photographer: Tomos Ody Graphic Designer: Katie Sharp Theatre Company: Spare The Rod

‘Thanks for Having Me explores the stories we tell ourselves about our relationships and the reasons we pursue them.’ ★★★ The stage is set with a stylish modern day kitchen and lounge, reflecting a thirty something person, with a decent job, in the UK today. The vocal warmth of Amy Winehouse plays in the background. The lighting on stage shifts, the audience settles and the first scene begins. Maya, played by Adeyinka Akinrinade and Honey, played by Kedar Williams-Stiring enter, playfully, with an obvious attraction to each other. The chemistry between the two actors takes a while to ignite and we begin to feel the connection between them in the second half of the play. Honey’s best friend Cashel, played by Keenan Kemper, gate crashes the evening bringing with him slapstick humour and an absurdist element to the play. The dialogue is fast paced and funny at times. The friendship portrayed between the two best friends grows in warmth and authenticity as the story unfolds. However, the shifts in their perspectives, are not always believable and could leave you feeling a little short changed. Eloise, played by Nell Tiger Free, the close friend of Maya, touches on some of the intricacies of female sexuality, although a little preachy, some very important issues are introduced. Thanks for Having Me, explores the stories we tell ourselves about our relationships and the reasons we pursue them. The play uncovers some of these complexities and hints at others. Although this is a thirty something story the themes are relatable to those in their forties and beyond. KB Productions presents: REVIEW: Thanks for Having Me at Riverside Studios 7 – 26 April 2025 Written by Keelan Kember | Directed by Monica Cox Riverside Studios, Studio 2 MAIN HOUSE 7 –26 April BOX OFFICE Cast Eloise Nell Tiger Free Honey Kedar Williams-Stirling Cashel Keelan Kember May Adeyinka Akinrinade

“An interesting and timely conversation.” ★★★ After the recent success of “Adolescence” one cannot help but wonder how much young men need to see themselves portrayed on Stage, Film, and TV to offer a helping hand in validating the complexity of their feelings. The play offers a subtle undercurrent on the nature of the incel movement and how even Jake, who aims to think progressively, can fall prey to the idea that a woman’s lack of love is to blame for his friend’s downfall. Jake also delivers strong judgement over Miles’s girlfriend Lauren whom he believes is taking Miles away from him. The balance to this is his love for his ex-Nora who he believes can do no wrong. The play does well to offer various viewpoints on a situation where no one can come out on top whilst depicting an authentic male friendship. Both Sam Bates (Jake) and Louis Martino (Miles) perform admirably throughout, comfortably inhabiting their characters and the mess the absence of Riley (played by Harrison Sharpe) has left them in. However, I believe the plot pacing, lets the actors down. We spend an inordinate amount of time going back and forth on who is to blame for Riley which leads to a lack of balance. We get a handful of blink and you miss it camaraderie between the two and a couple of Riley’s voice notes are hopeful. However, these attempts are too small to get the audience to a place of caring for the young men. A key moment between Miles and Jake that should feel dangerous is never fully delivered. The actors need more of an arc to play with. The ending does hit the right note with the love between the two being evident despite their differences but sadly the plot let down what should have been a beautiful pay off. A final note, the choice to never show the actor playing Riley (Harrison Sharpe) is a bold one and realistic to the circumstance of the plot but I think having the actors do nothing during Riley’s videos and voice notes was a waste. The piece could do with tech support to give Bates and Martino an atmosphere to amplify their performance, which will help Overwhelm to strike more of a chord with its audience. The play is worth the watch so go catch it at the Lion and Unicorn Theatre while you can. The show runs until Saturday 12th April. - Overwhelm is at the Lion and Unicorn Theatre from 8th – 12th April. - Written and directed by Stacey Cullen, from Working Progress Collective who are associates of the Lion and Unicorn. - Box office: What's On — LION & UNICORN THEATRE Reviewed by Heather Antonia Parsons

‘impressive production of an overstretched play’ ★★★ Many things are deadly in the theatre. Cleopatra’s asp. Edward the Second’s poker. Virtually any poison you can think of in Agatha Christie. But there’s little more deadly than the words “Do you remember”? Especially when followed by lengthy back-story exposition about how the characters on a stage in front of us reached the crisis point that sits at the heart of a drama. And that’s a problem in this curate’s egg of an impressive production of an overstretched play where the director Nick Hennegan has done a brilliant job with lights and sounds and disembodied voices to cover for a repetitive script by the very same Nick Hennegan. Say a thing three times and it is true, but say £232 million pounds about 232 million times and it begins to feel like overkill. That detail drilled and redrilled into the audience’s head isn’t the only one. Phrases multiply repeated and scenes that vary little in tone or tempo, added to a tendency to tell rather than show the past that’s brought our principal character, Bob (Greg Snowden), to the darkest of dark places, make a strong central story the weaker. Which is a shame because there’s a brilliant idea here. Admittedly it’s not a wholly original idea (Marlowe, Goethe and even Peter Cook and Dudley Moore have thoroughly mined it before this), but Hennegan does have his own particularly nasty Faustian bargain in mind as a father in the depths of despair is offered the traditional untold riches in return for a price. And his Devil is a deeply sinister voice-only presence (voiced by Guy Masterson), until it inhabits the body of Bob’s daughter. Hennegan has also coaxed two strong performances. Particularly so from comparative newcomer Juliet Ibberson as Tamsin, the daughter, switching very sweetly from naturalistic teenager to robotically possessed entity (the special effects aren’t quite up to a 360-degree Exorcist headspin, but there’s a sense of it in her glass-eyed stare). Atmospheric music by Hennegan’s long-term theatrical partner Nick Robb, a very inventive lighting design from Nat Green, some nice tricks involving a fridge, clever use of audiovisual to fill out the back story – all this is great, too, engaging, building a sense of dread. Care has been taken, attention paid to the sound, visuals and staging. But a stripping of the verbal repetitions to reduce the show to a brisker running time would prevent the drops in dread and tension that result from going over the same points (dad’s lost his job, his wife might be leaving him, the house might get repossessed, he had a mostly happy childhood until adulthood got messy) and the unvarying temptation-resistance-temptation-acquiescence-temptation-resistance rythym of the scenes. This is the show’s afterlife – a version first ran 27 years ago in a Birmingham pub theatre and then, award-winningly, at the Edinburgh Fringe. It’s been revised, updated, and, one suspects given usual Edinburgh running times, extended a bit. Less might leave us wanting more. A GHOST OF A CHANCE by Nick Hennegan at Theatre at the Tabard, Chiswick 2 – 19 April 2025 Director: Nick Hennegan Box Office: https://tabard.org.uk/ Reviewer David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), and Better Together (Jack Studio, London). Those and others performed across Scotland, Wales and England, and in Australia, Canada, South Korea, Switzerland and Belgium. Awards include Write Now Festival prize, Constance Cox award, SCDA best depiction of Scottish life, and twice Bruntwood longlisted.

If you want to know what God thinks about money, just look at the people He gives it to. – Dorothy Parker ★★★★ There’s a little gem of a show at a little gem of a new theatre in Camden. If more people knew about it, you would be hard pressed to buy a seat, but they don’t. You may never have heard of the Libra Theatre Café – it’s been open less than a year – but it turns the pub theatre concept on its head: the theatre owns the café, rather than the other way round, and the café is there to serve the theatre. When you go into the café on the ground floor, the two young women who pour your drinks are the two actors who founded and run the theatre, Jessica Cole and Simina Ellis. The theatre is in the basement, and underground trains are clearly audible, rumbling past every few minutes. With this production at least, their main effect was to add to the atmosphere. The one woman play is about Dorothy Parker (1893-1967), writer, wit and socialite in inter-war New York. This makes the task of writer and director Glenn T. Griffin easier than that of most playwrights, because the laugh out loud lines are all written for him. Dorothy Parker was wonderfully witty and clever, and the dilemma for Griffin must have been what to leave out. There are some Parker lines and short poems you cannot leave out, because Parker afficionados will be waiting for them. He would not be forgiven for failing to include “Men seldom make passes at girls who wear glasses” – though unless I blinked, he did fail to include “Time may be a great healer but it’s a lousy beautician.” He did however get in my favourite among her short verses: “By the time you swear you're his, “Shivering and sighing. “And he vows his passion is, “Infinite, undying “Lady make note of this -- “One of you is lying.” He also had the good sense to know that when Parker fell in love, he did not need to write the scene where she is waiting and hoping for a phone call – Parker had written it as a short story, and all he needed to do was adapt it for the stage. What he does have to do is to tell us about the complex and often despairingly unhappy woman who wrote these lines; chronicle her abortion, her suicide attempts, her descent into alcoholism, her sexual relationships with a series of unsuitable men. It helps that Carol Parradine, who plays Parker brilliantly, gets just the right balance between brittleness and vulnerability. The small auditorium is laid out with tables, cabaret-style, which seems right for a show about a New York socialite. Endless trouble has been taken over the staging, with curtains, decanters of whisky, chairs and even a book evoking the period, and you walk in to the sort of music Parker would have heard every day of her life. The show isn’t faultless, of course – nothing is. For one thing, it throws away some of Parker’s best lines in a recording before Parradine enters. But it’s a fitting tribute to one of the most interesting people of the twentieth century. What Fresh Hell is It? at The Libra Theatre CAFÉ, Camden, London 4 – 20 April 2025 BOX OFFICE Written and Directed by Glenn T. Griffin Starring Carol Parradine Adapted from the works, wit and wisdom of Dorothy Parker Reviewed by Francis Beckett

‘Cat and mouse comedy with smart dialogue and intense precision’ ★★★★ A relationship comedy but hardly a romcom, this laugh out loud drama, is more about the lies we tell ourselves and others. Set in the present, Keira and Rory haven’t seen each other since their university grad week more than a decade ago. She’s excited about the visit and when he arrives the romance seems promising but there’s an undercurrent. Old Red Lion currently favours dark drama and comedy which sits really well in the quirky space and the run-down pub below. With new owners now having taken over the hostelry, will we see a refurbishment which changes the atmosphere upstairs? Difficult to say, but for the moment at least, the marriage is impeccable. The writing by Evie Killip is well observed and gives moment by moment nuances to the cat and mouse of deciding on where the evening is going. Is this a burgeoning of passion, a new blossoming of long-term commitment or a casual thing. The play shows us the winner and the loser, with smart dialogue and intense precision. The story moves from present day to flash backs, so audiences need to keep up but the play never patronises its audiences. It’s the kind of show that has some audiences convinced of the story its telling based on where they are coming from themselves and others slightly confused but nevertheless impressed with a subtext which they allows them to grapple with what just happened! Actors Evie Killip (Doctors BBC Studios, Four Weddings and a Funeral) and Rowan Polonski (The Comedy of Errors RSC/Barbican Theatre, The Hypocrite RSC) bring it on. She’s all vulnerability, extremely messy and no stranger to failure. He’s far more successful, slick and inviting. Together they are dynamite. The black box set is one to navigate in the small space but direction from Alice Brittain, making her directorial debut, is happily in tune with the overall concept, giving us a dream like effect for the flash backs and letting the story breath. There’s no melodrama here, it really is a slice of life and yet the occasional shocking line has us all reeling with amused distaste. It’s a young audience who ‘get’ all the references, but it’s also a show for anyone at all who remembers romancing, whether they miss it or not. The inner turmoil and developing situations provide much to laugh about and yet, also perhaps, gives us all a bit of a wake-up call. Photography: Reanne Anad IT’S GONNA BE ME by Evie Killip at Old Red Lion Theatre 8 – 12 April 2025 BOX OFFICE Written by Evie Killip Directed by Alice Brittain Cast Keira: Evie Killip Rory: Rowan Polonski Kath (voice): Olivia Bernstone Lighting and Tech Designer: Katie Coyne Produced by Medium Rare

‘Transforms the pain of loss into the joy of life.’ ★★★★ Two young women, both with long plaited braids mirror each other. They move back and forth, twirl their hair, laugh together. It’s a sweet, playful, young dance full of symbiotic harmony and trust. We learn quickly these are sisters; that one is alive and the other is not. This is not a spoiler but in the play’s description. Plays about grief, and there’s a fair few, could almost constitute their own sub-genre. They are not necessarily an easy sell and come with an expectation of the depressing, maudlin or heart thumping. All the Happy Days (80 minutes) subverts these preconceptions from the title onwards. Full of warmth, humour, and depth, it’s a love story full of laughter with some beautifully touching moments. If grief is the price we pay for love, then All the Happy Things takes this idea and makes a death play all about love. You’ll come away not feeling dismal or desperate but full of hope and admiration for demonstrable human qualities and the bonds that connect strong relationships, all the things that make life worth living. Directed by Laura Jane Atkinson with dramaturgy by Somebody Jones, All the Happy Things weaves an impressive temporal path. It explores how the past can remain in the present; how those we truly love never leave and, how grief, if not adequately processed will push through at unexpected moments, in the most random way. Who would choose to be racked with grief in the crisp aisle of a supermarket? Or by the inconsequential sighting of a daisy in the grass? Performed by a talented ensemble with real chemistry, the relationships between the characters are tenderly expressed with many laugh out loud moments. Writer Naomi Denny, who initially developed the idea for the play as part of Soho Writer’s Lab in 2020, which was shortlisted for the Tony Craze Award, performs Sienna, the living sister, who sees her sibling everywhere. LJ Johnson has star quality and shines as Emily, the funny, annoying, departed sister, as well as ex-girlfriend, Ruby. Dejon Mullins multi roles both as Sam, Sienna’s thoughtful and rock-like boyfriend, and her weaselly, cockney geezer manager, Kevin. Mullins multi-roles so skilfully, I couldn’t work out why Kevin wasn’t there to bow at the end. From the use of voice messages including the last conversation between the sisters and some resonant playlist ‘bangers’ as gateways to shared memories, the use of sound and music by Eamonn O Dwyer, both raises the energy and maps out some narrative tent poles. As well as being a story about a grieving sister trying to cope with her loss, this love story between the living and dead, transforms the pain of loss into the joy of life with nuance, feeling and joy. Photography: Alex Brenner ALL THE HAPPY THINGS at SOHO THEATRE 8 – 26 April 2025 SOHO UPSTAIRS, Soho Theatre, 21, Dean Street, W1D 3NE BOX OFFICE CAST Naomi Denny Sienna Dejon Mullings LJ Johnson Lydia King Maggie Rowena Lennon Mum/Helen Patrick Mckenzie Dad/Clive CREATIVES Lucy Jane Atkinson Director Jida Akil Designer Abi Turner Lighting Designer Eamonn O’Dwyer Sound Designer and Composer Yemurai Zvayara Movement Director Daniel Steward Production Manager Somebody Jones Dramaturg Kate Tregear Stage Manager Samantha Adams Drama Therapist Steph Hartland Producer Tickets and show dates Reviewed by Nilgün Yusuf

‘There’s an interesting story to tell … ‘ ★★ If you want to see Rita Ippolit’s interesting play about Philip Larkin’s neglected lover Monica, you need to hurry – it is only at the Old Red Lion Theatre near Angel tube station until 12 April; and remember to get there for a 7 pm start, or you will miss half of it – there is no interval and it lasts less than an hour. Is it worth the effort? The answer’s a very definite maybe. There’s an interesting story to tell, and Monica is potentially an interesting character, but Ippolit never quite succeeds either in telling the story or in showing us Monica. She is a charismatic English Literature university lecturer, hopelessly in love with the poet Philip Larkin, who treats her in an offhand fashion and takes her adoration for granted. The play is about her relationship with a young student, who starts by hero-worshipping her and ends by despairing of her. And the trouble is that Ippolit never succeeds in making us like or admire Monica, or care much about what happens to her. She seems to be silly, self-indulgent, selfish, pretentious, egoistical and pathetic. I find it hard to care about a woman who, faced with indisputable evidence that her lover is using her as a convenience, looks at the bearer of the bad news with reproachful tear-stained eyes and says: “I love him so much.” When her student brings her the news of John F. Kennedy’s assassination (the play is set in the early 1960s), we are asked to believe that this high-powered academic, whose students admire her, wants only to talk about the outfit she is wearing, and when drawn back to the news of the day, simply remarks that she never thought much of Jackie Kennedy. When a fellow lecturer gets a promotion she would have liked but did not apply for, she sneers that his suits are not only old and dirty, but cheap. There are things to like. Julia Munrow plays the character Ippolit as written to perfection. There are some surprises along the way (I won’t spoil them for you). Directors Gregory A. Smith and Lily Whiteside use the intimacy of the tiny theatre to good effect. Teddy Walker as the student makes a good foil to Munrow, though he shouts and wriggles a bit too much. And it is interesting to have this story told; it tells us a good deal about Larkin, whom we do not meet. The idea is good. The implementation leaves something to be desired. Box Office Cast Julia Munrow Teddy Walker Writer - Rita Ippolit Director - Gregory A Smith, Lily Whiteside (original production) Producer - Izzy Macpherson Gabriela Chanova Technician and Lighting designer - Wil Lucas Music composer - John Walker Social media - @almostinstinctalmosttrue

"Deeply intelligent, hysterically funny, and incredibly romantic" ★★★★ ½ Who knew dogging around the Princess Diana Memorial car park could be so thought-provoking and tender? In Puppy by Naomi Westerman, that's exactly what it is. Usually defined as the practice of sexual activity in secluded, public locations, this deeply intelligent, hysterically funny, and incredibly romantic comedy, shows us a warm and welcoming community of wildly diverse Londoners brought together by a joyful love of sex and hilariously humdrum chit-chat. Think WI with more blow jobs. Set on the cusp of the OnlyFans era and amongst the proposed changes to pornography laws in the UK that would limit the depiction of certain sexual acts, Puppy at its heart gives us a queered classic rom-com with a genuinely unique take and unusually smart context. Accountant Jaz (Aisling O'Shea) tracks down her crush from the library, Maya (Amy Revelle), to a local dogging group at the Princess Di Memorial to try and meet her properly once and for all. There she finds a colourful collection of endearingly cheerful characters. They're all plugged into various levels of society, from a couple with a virginal Tory MP son to a bestselling self-published erotic novelist. Ultimately, it's a love story. Through Jaz (O'Shea) and Maya's (Revelle) interactions at home and in the group, they get to know one another and build a relationship. And it is, at times, very, very funny. It's not all sickly sweet though. As things arise from their joint venture starting a porn production company together, it doesn't shy away from difficult questions about sexuality and sexual identity, dealing with them head on. Whether it's trafficking or abuse, brilliantly crafted dialogue works these big themes into the plot with openness and integrity. It manages to be moving and relevant while conducting the tides of wonderfully ridiculous humour as well. Not everyone can achieve these kind of tonal acrobatics, but Puppy's finely tuned balance of light, dark, comedy and tragedy, silliness and seriousness is nothing short of masterful. A lot of that comes down to magnificent performances, particularly from the leads, Jaz (O'Shea) and Maya (Revelle), who are so natural that you feel you're actually peering into their private lives, watching their kind and intimate conversations about their wants, desires, traumas and histories as they fall in love and make a life. They feel like friends you've known for years. The group as a whole has amazing chemistry as well though, up there with some of the best. In this way, there's something of the old school romantic comedies about it. And every single one of them has impeccable comic timing. So believable are their interactions with the space that you'd be forgiven for thinking they were wandering audience members. Again, this realism makes for a beautiful contrast with their exaggerated personalities and contributes to the warmth in the room. It's a very effective cocktail. Brilliant set design by Rosin Jenner and direction by Kayla Feldman explodes the modest but impressive King's Head space into something much grander, moving seamlessly from the intimacy of a car seat to a bedroom, to the escalating demands of the porn studio to the 2014 face-sitting protest outside parliament. And having the whole cast on stage for most of the show adds to the sense of fondness and familiarity we feel for them by the end. Nice choice and performed well. Then the expert intimacy direction by Christina Fulcher gives us fantastically choreographed (fully-clothed), stylised sex scenes that shimmer with charm and open-mindedness. Doggy-style, reverse cowgirl, pegging and role play. But somehow it's the kind of madly explicit material that you wouldn't feel embarrassed to take your grandma to. Though the ending packs a punch, it slightly lacks the directorial verve of the rest of it. But that could be the constraints of the space, making what should be a large scale scene feel a bit more cramped than it should. Equally, that could also be because the rest of it was just so good. Either way, this is a piece of theatre that makes you forget you're in a theatre. It's a whirlwind tour de force of love, friendship, sexual politics, and actual politics. It's also just like hanging out with your mates. Though with a lot more sex. Photography: Steve Gregson Puppy by Naomi Westerman Directed by Kayla Feldman King's Head Theatre, 5 – 27 April 2025 Box Office Reviewed by Alix Owen

‘Lockyer’s performance is a tour de force’ ★★★★ Wilton’s Music Hall’s The Play’s The Thing: A One Person Hamlet is a striking testament to the power of minimalist theatre, anchored by Mark Lockyer’s virtuosic performance. The production strips Shakespeare’s tragedy to its raw essence, delivering a brisk 95-minute whirlwind that feels both urgent and timeless. Mark Lockyer, under Fiona Laird’s deft direction, delivers a performance of astonishing versatility, proving that a single actor—armed with nothing but skill, imagination, and a half-drawn red curtain—can make Elsinore’s shadows feel thrillingly alive. The production’s aesthetic is elegantly stripped-back, relying on the raw power of storytelling rather than ornate spectacle. The partially drawn curtain, a clever nod to the makeshift theatricality of Hamlet’s own “Mousetrap,” frames the stage like a child’s earnest living-room production—an apt metaphor for a play obsessed with performance and artifice. Yet this simplicity is deceptive. Every choice feels deliberate, from Lockyer’s fluid physicality to Tim Mitchell's masterful lighting, which conjures the Ghost of King Hamlet through stark, angular spotlights. The effect is chillingly spectral, evoking the eerie minimalism of a Victorian lantern show. When the Ghost looms over Hamlet, its presence is rendered not through CGI grandeur but through the primal interplay of light and actor—a reminder that true theatrical magic lies in suggestion. Born from pandemic-era innovation—Laird conceived the idea after seeing Lockyer excel in a socially distanced two-hander—this adaptation thrives on clarity and momentum. The collaboration pays off: Lockyer’s command of the text is absolute. His Claudius is a masterclass in regal menace—a newly crowned king whose charm masks the sweat of guilt, his ambition as palpable as a knife’s edge. In contrast, his Hamlet is a whirlwind of modern neuroses, oscillating between sardonic wit and raw despair. The prince’s grief for his father feels viscerally real, his disgust at Gertrude’s hasty remarriage laced with a bitterness that transcends centuries. Lockyer’s vocal dexterity and physical precision ensure each character is distinct, yet the transitions are seamless, as though the ghosts of Elsinore are possessing him one by one. That said, the production’s narrow focus comes at a cost. While Lockyer’s male characters pulse with psychological nuance, Gertrude and Ophelia are sketched with frustrating brevity. Gertrude’s moral ambiguity—Is she complicit? Naive?—is flattened into a broadly maternal archetype, while Ophelia’s descent into madness lacks the haunting complexity that makes her tragedy so piercing. It’s a rare misstep in an otherwise fiercely disciplined adaptation, though perhaps an inevitable one when a single actor shoulders the weight of every role. Lockyer’s performance is a tour de force of focus and invention, his transitions between roles so fluid they feel almost alchemical. This is a Hamlet as a tightrope act, balancing Shakespeare with bold reinvention. For Shakespeare purists, it’s a fresh lens on a familiar masterpiece; for newcomers, a riveting entry point. Either way, it’s a masterclass in what theatre can achieve when talent, vision, and text collide. The Play’s The Thing: A One Person Hamlet By William Shakespeare Presented by Regeneration Theatre Directed and Edited by Fiona Laird Wilton’s Music Hall 1st April to 12th April The Play's The Thing: A One Person Hamlet - Wilton's Music Hall wiltons.org.uk

‘Oscar Wilde back in London’s west end’ ★★★★ I have always been of the opinion that a man who desires to get married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know? - Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest. The best things about Michael Mac Liammoir’s The Importance of Being Oscar, first performed in Dublin in 1960, were the long extracts from Oscar Wilde’s work, showcasing his extraordinary range, from a delightful, insubstantial comedy of manners like The Importance of Being Ernest, to the grim hopelessness of The Ballad of Reading Gaol. And it is here that this new production from Original Theatre is at its best. Against the simplest of sets – a circle of light designed to ensure focus on the one actor - Alastair Whatley performs these extracts to understated perfection. Even if, like me, you know the exchange between Ernest Worthing and Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest by heart, you will still enjoy Whatley’s performance of it, including the line for which the late Edith Evans will forever be associated: “A handbag!” Later, as Wilde’s life and his work darkens, come The Ballad of Reading Goal, for which Whatley stands, utterly still, only the top half of him lit, and tells us in a flat, even voice about a man about to be hanged for murdering his lover – “For each man kills the thing he loves.” He reads the poem brilliantly. Each word is like a dagger, the more so because it is spoken without sharpness. The night I saw it, you could have heard a pin drop in the cramped 70-seat Jermyn Street auditorium. In addition to these gems, Whatley offers us a splendidly observed rendition of an exchange from Lady Windermere’s Fan between Lord Wootton and his manservant, and a searing record of unhappiness and resentment in Wilde’s letter to his lover, Lord Alfred Douglas, after Wilde’s release from prison. There are some lines which Wilde enthusiasts await with expectation, and generally we are not disappointed. Is the dying Wilde going to look at the dreadful wallpaper in his cheap Paris hotel room and murmer: “One of us has to go”? Bless you, of course he is. This really is a play of two halves, like Wilde’s life: before and after he was sent to prison for two years with hard labour, and not permitted to see his children again, which was society’s punishment for what he himself christened “the love that dare not speak its name.” I was left wishing that he had been able to glimpse even the beginning of the revolution in society’s attitudes, and to appreciate the important part in it played by his own life and work. Whatley and director Michael Fentiman understand that less is often more, that you do not need to raise your voice or weep to express emotion, and they know the value of stillness. A monologue asks a lot of an actor, for the audience has only one voice to hear all evening. Whatley is up to the challenge. His performance is one of masterly restraint. Photography: Marc Brenner The Importance of Being Oscar BY MICHEáL MAC LIAMMóIR. DIRECTED BY MICHAEL FENTIMAN. PERFORMED BY ALASTAIR WHATLEY Jermyn Street Theatre 28 March - 19 April 2025 Tickets An Original Theatre and Reading Rep Theatre Co-Production

‘Nice premise and performed fantastically, but lacking in big, original belly laughs.’ ★★★ Rising star Rosie Day's second play after her acclaimed debut, Instructions for A Teenage Armageddon, is a deep dive into the puzzles and webs of family dynamics. Billed as Saltburn meets Schitt's Creek, (This Is Not A) Happy Room finds the variously estranged members of the Henderson family reuniting in a Blackpool hotel for their bachelor father's umpteenth wedding. The catch? He dies on the way and the family have to come together to turn it into a funeral instead. It's a great and original setup. We're introduced to a series of flawed but likeable characters: arriving first, the mostly-thirty-something siblings: highly strung new mum Laura (Andrea Valls) and her hapless husband Charles (Tom Kanji), super successful but strangely hopeless actor Elle (Rosie Day), and their wildly neurotic brother Simon (Jonny Weldon), all of whom have nothing in common but the shared childhood from which they've all tried to run away. They're joined by their effortlessly glamorous mother, Esther (a brilliant Amanda Abbington) and their senile great Aunt Agatha (Alison Liney), and later by a passively judgemental American psychologist called Hayley (Jazz Jenkins), a second cousin of someone or other, whose presence I never fully understood. They are a good set of characters placed into a simple and inventive situation. The thing is, that setup is a lot funnier than the execution. Something about it never quite gets off the ground. It remains a not hugely interesting examination of family dynamics through the lens of an extremely privileged one. That's not to say it isn't worthy of examination, but whereas Saltburn is satirising class, (This Is Not A) Happy Room veers a little too closely to smugness. Jokes aren't really ironic, but literal, jibes about Blackpool, bowling, Steps, The Daily Mail, cheap vodka from the BP garage, have the potential to illicit the kind of self-satisfied reaction that not all audiences will relate to (though, yes, granted, dysfunctional families are pretty universal) or feel the kind of sympathy they're supposed to be feeling for the human rights lawyer, multi-million dollar grossing actor, and hypochondriac layabout. Now, I'm not saying that this IS how it comes across, just that it's close. But equally, there's potential for greatness on the other side: the family's casual racism, entitlement, and snobbery starts to touch on something interesting, though it never quite gets there or becomes self-aware enough to unpack its own rich observations, probably because it keeps the characters far too likeable to explore that potential. In this way, there's a bit of an identity crisis going on. Is it a standard, good-hearted comedy more like Four Weddings and a Funeral? Or is it a searing indictment of class like Saltburn? And though the writing is playful, it doesn’t deliver the deadpan genius of Schitt’s Creek. However, like that aforementioned sitcom, it is in those characters that (This Is Not A) Happy Room really excels. These are some sensational performances. Particularly brilliant is Amanda Abbington, who, in a cut-glass class of her own, conjures up a fantastically campy matriarch with moments of surprising depth and a lifetime behind her eyes. Then there’s Alison Liney, in her professional debut, as the dizzy great aunt, and whose long background in amateur theatre not only shows the value of those groups but has given us her impeccable comic timing and absolute star quality, and she should be snapped up immediately. Also worthy of mention is Jonny Weldon as Simon, whose every tic and beat is truly hilarious (not too much, not too little), beyond even what the source material has given him. The entire cast are on form. Scenes do start to become a little repetitive throughout the 90-minute runtime and the already quite slow momentum of the plot struggles to sustain these sluggish, though well-structured, scenes that tend to tread the same ground with different characters. At the end of the day, the play has a nice premise and is performed fantastically, but it's lacking in big, original belly laughs, leaning mostly on reliable but uninspiring cliché. There is a great potential for farce, but it doesn't quite deliver that energy. There's great potential for social commentary, but it keeps its scope too small. So overall, it’s not doing anything new with the material: it’s just sort of circling it, but it’s certainly not bad either. If this is not a happy room, it is at least an entertaining one. Photography: Mark Senior (This Is Not A) Happy Room by Rosie Day Directed by Hannah Price King’s Head Theatre, 1 – 27 April 2025 Box Office: https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/14/by-rosie-day/this-is-not-a-happy-room Reviewed by Alix Owen

‘The quality shows in a riotous, joyous production’ ★★★★★ Marco Boroni, just a poor boy from a poor family, has a talent, a wonderful thing, as everyone listens when he starts to sing. For Marco is a castrato in 18th century Venice and one of the few of his kind for whom fame and fortune (and a wealthy patron, and more important smitten patroness) beckon the purity of his preserved childish treble voice. Yet Marco himself (Jack Chambers) has a musical ear and a love-struck eye to tell him the female roles he’s trained for and craves at the city’s theatre might just be better sung, who’d a thunk it, by an actual woman, the one that he wants being Gioia (Jewelle Hutchinson), a slave girl from the wrong side of the Grand Canal. And so the pair of star-crossed lovers grab their lives, defy convention and the sneers of their superiors to get out of their gutters and reach for the heavens. Stiletto, a new musical, comes with a high pedigree. Multiple Oscar, Golden Globe and Grammy nominee Matthew Wilder wrote the music and lyrics, while the Book writer Tim Luscombe is an Olivier nominee. The quality shows in a riotous, joyous production with nary a lull for breath in its two hours of grand passions and low skullduggery. Ceci Calf’s set design, dark pillars and simple, transformable furniture is gorgeously supplemented by Anna Kelsey’s pitch-perfect costumes and lighting designer Ben Ormerod’s darks and shades. The design also hides a 10-piece orchestra back there , and allows the show to prove the point that nothing can’t be improved by a bit more cello, a brass section and a mandolin. There’s real attention to detail in the staging, too – for example, the invisible removal of a dead body and a near-perfect theatrical sleight-of-hand with some cleverly costumed actor-switching. The quality of sound impresses too, with a series of songs that have that character of instant familiarity that suggests you’ve heard this before while still being entirely original. We’re very much in 20th/21st century musical theatre style rather than 18th century Venice for these. Marco and Gioia get their high points – Jewelle Hutchinson soaring on God-Given Gif t when setting out her stall early, for example. And the ensemble pieces sound like the hits – Every Day of Your Life featuring the entire cast at opening and close. But there are standout songs in the solos for non-lead characters, with Greg Barnett (as Marco’s Svengali-like tutor, cast aside by the pupil who’s outgrown him) and Sam Barrett (as a worm who turns against his corrupt lord and master) the absolute high points in How Do I Get Through and, especially, Go Along. The whole show, from the opening bars, is a feast for eye and ear, and, while there may be little surprise in the basic Romeo-and-Juliet-triumph-over-adversity of the plot, the songs are the thing here, and a very very good thing they are, too. Photography: Johan Persson STILETTO at Charing Cross Theatre 24 March – 15 June 2025 Music and Lyrics: Matthew Wilder Book: Tim Luscombe Director: David Gilmore Charing Cross Theatre 24 March to 15 June 2025 Box Office: https://www.charingcrosstheatre.co.uk/ Reviewer David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), Better Together (Jack Studio, London). Those and others performed across Scotland, Wales and England, and in Australia, Canada, South Korea, Switzerland and Belgium. Awards include Write Now Festival prize, Constance Cox award, SCDA best depiction of Scottish life, and twice Bruntwood longlisted.

‘A Chilling, Cerebral Clash of Faith and Fanaticism’ ★★★ Nicholas Alder’s Road to Judecca, performed at Riverside Studios, is a daring theatrical experiment. The play interrogates the intersection of faith and performance, weaving Lutheran theology—specifically the four modalities of prayer (command, promise, words, faith)—into the fabric of an actor’s process. The result is a haunting, cerebral work that probes how belief can both elevate and ensnare, while questioning the ethics of charismatic authority and the human longing to belong. Alder—serving as playwright, director, and sole performer—delivers a tour de force in dual roles. As Toby, a fragile, desperate acolyte, he channels the existential despair of Samuel Beckett’s protagonists: hunched, twitchy, and vibrating with a nervous energy that borders on the transcendent. “I want to feel wanted by God, I want to feel wanted by you”. In stark contrast, his portrayal of Michael, the cult-like leader who manipulates Toby’s faith, is a masterclass in chilling charisma. Alder imbues Michael with a serpentine charm, quoting scripture to justify the cold-blooded murder of a beggar while seducing both Toby and the audience with magnetic, almost erotic authority. The echo of “Words without thoughts will never to heaven go” underscores Michael’s performative piety—a prayer stripped of meaning, weaponized for control. The minimalist set, bathed in chiaroscuro lighting, evokes a purgatorial void between ritual and reality, while his physicality—whether crawling in supplication or towering in dominance—transforms movement into prayer. The recursive structure mirrors the cyclical nature of dogma, asking: When does faith become coercion? When does belonging become bondage? Yet Road to Judecca is not without flaws. The pacing, deliberately slow to mirror liturgical ritual, often drags, testing the audience. Toby’s unwavering devotion, while thematically resonant, strains believability; his static emotional arc renders him more symbolic martyr than evolving human, muting the narrative’s dramatic urgency. Still, Alder’s electrifying presence compensates. His transitions between roles are seamless and haunting, culminating in scenes of visceral horror that expose the rot beneath Michael’s holy veneer. The tension between “illuminating and blinding” faith thrums with dread. A bold but uneven exploration of faith’s dark alchemy. Alder’s performances—particularly his monstrous, mesmerizing Michael—elevate the material, and the script’s intellectual rigor is admirable. Yet sluggish pacing and Toby’s stagnant arc blunt its emotional impact. Worth seeing for Alder’s daring and the lingering question: When does faith become a cage? For all its flaws, Road to Judecca leaves you haunted by its ghosts. Road to Judecca Written, Directed & Performed by Nicholas Alder In association with Voler Theatre Collective Riverside Studios 23rd March, London, UK https://riversidestudios.co.uk/see-and-do/road-to-judecca-166473/ Théátre Pixel 29th March, Paris, France https://www.billetweb.fr/road-to-judecca Ylioppilasteatteri 5th April, Helsinki, Finland https://www.ylioppilasteatteri.fi/road-to-judecca