Reviews

'the joys of cooking' ★★★★ Previously called Becoming Nigella , the musical by Emily Rose Simons, had a title change to the more apt How to Make a Mess . Hearing the byline, I imagined something like the semi-biographical film, Nora Ephron’s Julie & Julia , in which Amy Adams and Meryl Streep play characters whose lives become entwined when Julie starts a blog about cooking each of Julia Child’s recipes from Childs' first book about French cooking over a year. (An interesting foodie aside: Stanley Tucci, who plays Childs’ husband, can be found with his own recipes in the cookbook section lately.) Rather, this story takes us to the aching heart of Anna (Natasha Karp), who lost her father to another family when she was young and is now about to lose her until-recently-estranged mother. On the evening of her birthday, she opens Nigella Lawson’s seminal book, How to Eat , a past gift from her father, and, much like rubbing a genie’s bottle, the domestic goddess (Tanya Truman) herself appears (this is more than an apparition caused by the edibles Anna took). In some ways a formulaic recipe to conjure up, and yet somehow, it works; and Nigella is embedded into Anna’s kitchen and life. Anna is quite the opposite of Nigella. She doesn’t cook, doesn’t want to cook, and even orders her morning coffee to be delivered. Thus, a new chapter begins. Nigella arrives with steamy looks at the audience (expected), slightly salacious comments, and starts off with a red feather boa over a red sequined apron atop her tight-fitting red dress. Truman musters the famously sensual version of the famous TV chef. However, she evolves into more counselor than cook to Anna, who lives an active social life where nobody really knows her. Anna doesn’t even let her workplace know her mother is dying. Our diva becomes her confidante and support system. There is melancholy in this piece, but it is not overly sentimental, such as with the song “How Will I Say Goodbye?”. The real energy, however, erupts when the cooking begins - the making of a mayonnaise, splitting eggs and dropping oil “from an elegant height” - but that happens only halfway through the show. The instrumental trio, positioned next to the kitchen, was on point with keyboards, cello, and reeds (flute, alto sax, and clarinet) pushing the musical narrative forward perfectly. The music is uplifting and at times meditative; the most memorable pieces are the duets, with high energy and musical punctuation. When the pair sings “Nothing Like My Mother”, they belt out their piece facing each other directly and it is riveting. I wanted to know more about Nigella’s relationship with her mother after the song, but the lyrics only indicate early labour as a child, referring to “tiny feet on adult chairs”. Perhaps, much like a real life counselor, this Nigella is not talking (or rather, singing) too much about herself. The set has a kitchen I would like to cook in (meticulously designed by Christianna Mason), with its teal and white decor, central island, and clean lines. If house porn is more your thing than food porn, this may be reason alone to see the show. One thing that strangely feels at odds with the realistic set is at the pinnacle of Nigella’s wooing of Anna to the gourmande side: several types of large models of hanging cheese drop down from the grid. It may serve to remind us that this Nigella may or may not be a spirit or a djinn, but it felt a bit jarring to see large pieces of papier-maché cheese making an appearance, even if it was for a lesson in how to taste. The dialogue has moments of humour between the diametrically opposed characters. At one point Nigella asks Anna what mental condition she has. Is it grief? “No, you.” comes the reply. The ever-confident Nigella retorts, “We should all have such a condition.” Nigella might be the genie, but as with all who grant wishes, she eventually disappears, and Anna has to face her real ghosts - building her relationship with her father. There is much connection between food and family in this piece. As in Julie & Julia, there is a key dish that has to be mastered and roast chicken is the one for Anna, not because of complexity, but because of familial memory. As someone who was very late to cooking myself (yes, there are others like Anna), many of Nigella’s words of wisdom to Anna, oft quoted from the book, spoke to me: “Although it's possible to love eating without being able to cook, I don't believe you can ever really cook unless you love eating.” Such quips served to remind the audience of the joys of cooking and how sensual an experience it is, as only Nigella can. The lyrics in this piece have a way of speaking to the heart as much as the dialogue, even if the tunes disappear from memory. Even as the characters make a mess in the kitchen, Anna learns to accept the mess in her heart. And the viewer needs to accept that this production is more of a simmer than a boil. HOW TO MAKE A MESS at Upstairs at the Gatehouse 16 - 28 June 2026 BOX OFFICE Written by Emily Rose Simons Performed by Natasha Karp,Tanya Truman Music performed by David Merriman, Josie Campbell, Ruth Whybrow Directed by Grace Taylor Musical Direction and Arrangements by David Merriman Set and Costume Designer: Christianna Mason Lighting Designer: Chris McDonnell Sound Designer: Richard Carter Produced by Tanya Truman Productions Photography: Danny Kaan

' a clever, homely set-up that makes you feel welcome ' Make a slideshow of your life and relate it to a phrase or word. Steven Silverman's show and indeed, it is a 'show' rather than exactly theatre began in LA over twenty years ago and has now come to London. The whole performance feels like a pastime we used to entertain ourselves with during lockdown. You know the kind of thing: families returning to age-old stories about their ancestry, the person they loved before their partner, or a time when they made a real fool of themselves. Three performers (though storytellers might be a better word), tell personal stories about what it means to be 'love-struck' in this performance, making the most of Silverman's simple yet effective set-up. The line-up changes each night as Silverman, the show's creator and director, invites different friends to come up and deliver a tale. Of course, the talent varies, just as the stories themselves range from comic to tragic and everything in between. It's all part of the charm but, as Silverman mentioned at the beginning of the show, I would say that if he wishes to broaden its appeal to a British audience, he really needs at least one Brit performing. This reviewer felt somewhat pulled at the heart strings by the show's final story, in which Silverman described the passing of his three dogs. Many tears were shed among the dog lovers in the audience. It was an honest and open tribute to our best furry friends, reminding us that while romantic partners often take centre stage when we think about love, so too should pets, family and friends. Overall, it's difficult to make any promises about what you'll encounter at Slideshow, as the show changes every month that it runs. What can be said with certainty is that it's a clever, homely set-up that makes you feel welcome and will almost certainly leave you smiling. Box Office

‘By God, this was good stuff’ ★★★★ In mid 2019 I took a small punt on seeing a new musical with an odd name at the wonderful New Diorama Theatre. It was rough and ready, a sprawling cast of characters, and had a myriad of songs covering genre after genre which were maybe trying a bit too hard. But the story was great (and true!), the performers were fantastic and the songs were hilariously funny. It had something. Fast forward to mid 2026, this time with my reviewing hat on, I took a small punt on a new musical with an odd name at the wonderful Jack Studio Theatre. And, yes reader, it has something. 10k? Jog On! (awful name for a show) tells the tale of Charlie and Nick, two absolute bumbling wasters who learn about the untimely passing of an old friend and decide to do something to honour his memory. As they are complete losers they don’t attempt anything too grand and land on running a 10km (which for plot purposes keeps things simple but means that we get an extraordinary number of songs about, essentially, being in the gym). For 90 minutes the jeopardy appears to be whether they will in fact do the run, complete the run and maybe become better people as a result. And that’s it. In truth, the twosome are wholly irritating and their banter grates throughout. I’m not sure what age they are meant to be (early 20’s I guess) but surely no one is this dimwitted? Charlie has broken up with his girlfriend and has disappeared to live on Nick’s sofa and everything is an effort. We don’t know how and if they earn money, we don’t know how Nick can afford his flat and we don’t truly get to the bottom of why they've 'dropped’ their old friend other than ‘we just couldn’t be bothered’. So, a lack of characterisation and a lack of depth combines with a series of choppy scenes largely set in a gym or the aforementioned flat. Yet, against the odds, it’s a joy. I’ll be honest, my heart sank during the first 5 or 10 minutes as these guys were so very irritating and, combined with ‘jaunty’ video and graphical inserts on a big screen at the back of the stage, I thought I was at some kind of horrific student union ‘thing’. But, with lyrics and writing by Tom Watson (who also plays Charlie), a series of lovely performances by a hardworking cast, and some truly inspired meta-theatrical references (some obvious, some subtle) it soon becomes clear that these guys know what they are about. With sharp and busy direction from Hannah Lochhead and jaunty tunes from composer Sam Wells, the silly story is brilliantly won over by the smartness of the storytelling itself. As Charlie and Nick, Tom Watson and Nicholas Southcott have an easy way with one another and, by extension, with the audience who, even allowing for friends and family, loved it. Their interplay is smart, both can sing well enough and remarkably, end up being both likeable and believable. The supporting cast are all given their moments in the sun and each plays a number of incidental characters but has a central one which they can own (nb very much like that show at the New Diorama). Thus, George Teller as ridiculous PT Trey is funny and athletic (with a decent voice), debutant Scarlett Irish as Megan lands her big solo tune and standout Chloe Way clowns and gurns to pretty much steal the show (reminding me of the great Katy Owen, a Kneehigh alumnus). The ending payoff is weak, it sags at times, some of the transitions are messy and the video content needs to be smarter - or junked. But, by God, this was good stuff. I just really really hope that this group - Planet Sin Productions - go away, finesse it and go again. - and repeat. So - 2019 Operation Mincemeat. 2026 - 10k? Jog On! A long, long way to go but - Sail on, boys (& girls). Sail on. 10k? Jog On! JACK STUDIO THEATRE 9 - 13 June 10k? Jog On! • Jack Studio Theatre Writer and Lyricist: Tom Watson Composer and Musical Director: Sam Wells Director: Hannah Lochhead Video Design: Tom Watson Sound Operator: Sam Wells Set Design: Zeke Eliasberg Lighting design: Elliott Shepard Light operator: Leon Andrews Filmed segments DOP: James Duncan Presented by Planet Sin Productions Nick: Nicholas Southcott Charlie: Tom Watson Trey: George Deller Megan: Scarlett Irish Pilly: Chloe Way Male understudy: Tom Holt Female understudy: Hannah Lochhead Jamie (voice and video): Matt Peebles ‘10K for dummies’ voice: Oliver Britten

‘Credit to the Finborough Theatre for staging Soldiers of Tomorrow, which is essential viewing at this time.’ ★★★★ Although a great deal is written about the current conflict(s) in the middle-east, it is rare in the UK, especially on the London stage, to hear from those directly involved. This one-man play, written (with Colleen Murphy) and performed by Itai Erdal, an Israeli writer who has lived in Canada for decades, but like so many Israelis did his national service with the Israeli Defence Force (in the 1990s). Erdal is a charismatic and engaging performer, and is joined onstage by musician Emad Armoush, who provides a live soundtrack. He intersperses his own family history (his parents emigrated from Turkey to Israel in the 1960s) with the history of the region. Although originally written three years ago, the references are up-to-date, with Erdal emphasising the events of October 7 can’t be understood without knowing the longer history of the region back to 1948 and before, which is needed to truly comprehend the full extent of the injustice suffered by the Palestinian people. The main narrative of the play centres around his national service and his regret and shame over this period, and more generally how military service is ingrained in Israeli society. Erdal also speaks about a more hopeful time for change among leftist Israeli citizens such as himself that ended with the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995. The play is naturally sombre whilst never losing hope. Armoush’s playing of the Oud, which is never intrusive, enhances the storytelling. The set (designed by Brian Ball with art by Juliette Demoulin), hinting at military fatigues with toy soldiers as props, is used well to convey the complex and challenging stories. A key part of the play is the after-show discussion, which is offered every night. Erdal reflected how he didn’t learn about many of the events in 1948 (termed the Al-Nakba/“the catastrophe” among Palestinians) until the invention of Youtube, when he discovered things he was never taught in school. The production has been controversial and many theatres in different countries have refused to stage it. It has faced protests, on the one side for not being Zionist enough (from the right), and on the other for centring Israeli guilt at the expense of Palestinian voices (from the left). Erdal agrees with the latter point and emphasises the need for Palestinian voices to be heard on stage, and this feels vital and a challenge to UK Theatre. Credit to the Finborough Theatre for staging Soldiers of Tomorrow, which is essential viewing at this time. SOLDIERS OF TOMORROW written by Itai Erdal with Colleen Murphy. Playing at the Finborough Theatre until July 4 2026 https://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/productions/soldiers-of-tomorrow Performed by Itai Erdal Crew Music Composed and Performed by Emad Armoush Directed by Anita Rochon Set Design by Brian Ball Scenic Art by Juliette Demoulin Lighting Design by Alan Brodie Presented by The Elbow Theatre in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre. Supported by Canada Council for the Arts and British Columbia Arts Council Production Photos by Matt Reznek

'Funny and clever but overloaded' ★★★ Where would art be without the twin poles of love and death? These strands weave through the performing and visual arts from the year dot and forever. Our relationships with these subjects, their absence or presence, will shape all our lives for good or ill. Stories For Boys , is an eat-as-much-as-you-can theatrical buffet that explores many ideas around love and death through a dizzying number of courses and flavours. Written by Kieron Barry (Numbers, Spy for Spy) and directed by Hope Wishart (A Microscopic Odyssey) this piece uses an array of approaches to tantalise the tastebuds. The cast of six uses performance, physical theatre, dance, song, puppetry and tableau vivant to convey some big ideas. The multiple references to literature and philosophy in this layered, post-modern piece make a good game. How many references can you spot? Double points for Shakespeare or Beckett. In some ways, the whole piece is performed in ironic, inverted commas. We start with a reenactment of a car journey in the dead of night and our cast of six become windscreen wipers, doors, and a passenger. Then, in a panoramic long shot, a body becomes a landscape, tiny torches show two cars heading towards each other over the curves of a woman’s body. There’s a terrible accident and a fatality. The doors and windscreen wipers transform into pallbearers as a body is carried away and lives are changed forever. It’s an audacious and impressive opening. Somewhere in the buffet of illusions and surreal scenes is a narrative thread about a donkey and a fish, asking questions about love, life and death. The shadow play and puppetry that represents them is charming and sweet but overwhelmed by everything else. There’s a lot going on around them; it’s no wonder the donkey and fish are having an existential crisis. Why are they here? At one hour forty straight with no interval, Stories for Boys demands a great deal of the audience. It's funny and clever but overloaded and in need of dramaturgical input. There is much to admire in this crafted, choreographed piece which represents a great deal of talent. The lighting design by Barnaby Booth is imaginatively and sensitively conceived and realised. Enza Kims’s set and costume design is cohesive and resourceful. The formality of the costume design by May Kelly - formal Nehru collared suits—juxtaposes with the absurd comic tone of the piece. Despite the headlining themes and its laudable, experimental approach, this is a buffet that feeds the intellect rather than the soul. Photography: Erika Sviderskyte Stories for Boys at Drayton Arms Theatre until 20 June BOX OFFICE CAST Adam Barlow - Player One etc. Lewis Blomfield - Player Three etc. Florence Dobson - Asso Agatha Elwes - Basso Samuel Ferrer - Player Two etc. Thelma Solea - Player Four etc. CREATIVE TEAM Written by Kieron Barry Directed by Hope Wishart Robert Taylor - Executive producer Enza Kim - Set Design Barnaby Booth - Lighting Design Helen Skiera - Sound Design May Kelley - Costume Design Arista Abbabatulla - Assistant Director Catalina Diaconescu - Stage Management Lisa Bain - Production Manager Sean Laing - Co-Production Manager Paushali Banik - Casting Maryann Wright - Press Salene Jang - Graphic Design Olga Tarnopolskaia - Programme Design Paul Major - Site Development Modge Tait - Producer Lily Alcock - Co-Producer Cassie Devlin - Co-Producer

‘utterly gripping and entertaining drama’ ★★★★★ Following a car accident that kills her employer John, and leaves her badly injured, Julia’s life becomes a haze of pills and pain as she is left to pick up the pieces of the catastrophe. With the help of those around her, she attempts to recover physically and emotionally. But in the fugue that follows, it soon transpires that something is amiss. Items in the house aren’t where she left them, small details people have told her don’t add up and Julia is left wondering who in her life she can depend on after such an earth-shattering event. As the world of Dead Guilty reveals itself, it becomes apparent that although she is surrounded by people trying to help her, it’s doubtful whether any of them can offer Julia what she truly needs. We have Margaret, John’s surviving wife, whose desire to nurse Julia back to health starts to feel slightly smothering. There’s also Gary, Julia’s devoted handyman, whose helpful visage appears to be hiding ulterior motives. Even her therapist Anne’s compassionate manner is undercut slightly by her clinical jargon and procedural approach. Julia herself is far from the martyred archetype of the traumatised survivor, and is often irritable and sardonic in her interactions with the other characters. The multi-layered performances of the actors leave the audience not knowing quite who to trust, with perspectives on each character constantly shifting throughout. The play is intricately plotted, with subtle breadcrumbs that are dropped early on and return later in the narrative. Coupled with the true-to-life feeling of the characters, this means that although certainly a thriller, the story never feels completely out of the realm of possibility. Richard Harris manages to skilfully straddle high drama and suspense with the everyday and comedy, making for an utterly gripping and entertaining drama. Not a moment on stage is wasted, nor does one linger for too long on any point; the pacing of this piece is masterful and drives the plot decisively towards its satisfying conclusion. Debuting in 1994, some elements of this time period are still observable in the production, such as the giant handheld phone, and the reliance on this as a major source of information and contact with the outside world. Despite this, the production itself does not feel dated, and it’s conceivable that the events within it could still take place today. The set is elaborately detailed, with touches that make it feel truly like a lived-in home, with magazines from the era adorning the coffee table and Julia’s various graphic designs left strewn across the desk. Suspenseful and darkly funny in equal parts, Dead Guilty is a gripping journey through the aftermath of disaster and the unsettling consequences that arise from this. DEAD GUILTY by Richard Harris at The Tabard Theatre 10th-27th June 2026 Box office Writer – Richard Harris The cast Julia – Charlotte Hunter Margaret – Felicity Duncan Gary – Freddie Webster Anne – Julia Faulkner The creatives Director – Nick Bromley Set Designer – Rob Miles Costume Designer – Faith Powlett Lighting Designer – Nat Green Set Build and Scenic Artistry – Rob Miles and Pat McMahon Stage Manager – Claire-Monique Martin Produced by Simon and Sarah Reilly for Take Note Theatre for the Tabard Photography: Felix Hall Close

‘a really nice idea with some dedicated hard-working actors doing their best with what was at hand’ ★★ Greeted by a Jane Eyre in drag offering us biscuits, we took our seats in the Bread and Roses Theatre, transformed for this night into the community hall, hosting the first ever Jane Eyre Convention. Describing itself as an "ill advised enactment of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre", we were served up a performance where four actors played out the main scenes from the more than excellent novel by Charlotte Bronte. Perhaps the instruction to familiarise ourselves with the emergency exits, like those of a cabin crew just in case the flight hits some shaky patch or worse, was not exactly a metaphor but more a warning of where to run to if the show should crash and burn. For a comedy the night was surprisingly silent and short of laughs. Was it because of the references to dealing with some of the cast member's issues and neurosis, dealt with in a heavy or clumsy way. We were also reminded that this was a story of survival and it was easy to empathise with Jane's plight if you were in the audience that night. It was easy to get the feeling that this play didn't really make the most of the massive amount of material from the novel. It had a fair attempt, and at a running time of just over an hour, you could be forgiven for thinking this was not everything the writer has to offer. The stark difference between attitudes towards many things from the period and the way the modern world would shred, criticise or destroy those opinions now-a-days was not entirely exploited. This major difference in the way people view the world could have been used, whether PC or not, to produce something more dynamic and funny; but it all depends on the amount of reverence you have for the source material. Though I have never thought parody or just crude piss-taking was ever a show of disrespect for the creator but more an expression of the writer's taste or even an intimate peep into their psyche. On the other hand, the set, costumes and props gave it what I hope was a deliberate aura of tacky "am-dram" and in a way this worked well to adhere to it a certain amount of charm. It tried to get immersive by getting the audience involved by offering them broken "bickies" at half time, and the opportunity to join in by wearing a stupid-looking, though I know, historically accurate bonnet. But it was, for some reason, difficult to get fully committed to the whole thing. Like Dickens and many other titans of the Victorian Novel, Charlotte Bronte provides us with a text that is crammed with more than enough unbelievable twists of the story line, strange characters who turn up for the strangest of reasons, bazaar coincidences that revive what was looking like a derailed plot and so much other stuff to play with that it was a little sad that this wealth of material was not used to its utmost potential. Maybe a rethink is needed, or some additions, some more dynamic acting might make this into a better play and something worth seeing but at the moment it isn't much more than a really nice idea with some dedicated hard-working actors doing their best with what was at hand. I hope this isn't too harsh a comment to make and I hope it is just me who was disappointed. JANE EYRE CONVENTION By Eleanor Zeal, Directed by Danielle Arkwright, Bread and Roses Theatre 9th - 13th June 2026 https://www.breadandrosestheatre.co.uk/

‘highly engaging, funny and heartfelt’ ★★★★ We start on the character of Beth (Shane Convery), a trans woman aspiring to a career in journalism, who enjoys a situationship with Rory (Matt Vickery) a university lecturer who has his own issues with a laddish brother Gaz (Oliver Redpath). To help her through all this, Beth has her baby-obsessed friend Tara (Gennifer Becouarn) whose own boyfriend Ian (Matt Roberts) simply isn’t up to snuff, as well as her acerbic former colleague Samantha (Sophia Vi) who shares Beth’s ambitions but not her ethics. The action kicks off with Tara making quite the unusual proposition to Beth for solving her and Ian’s frustration that soon has events spiraling out of control. What follows is a highly engaging, funny and heartfelt tales that tackles issues ranging from the highly current, such as transphobia and the manosphere, to the classic, such as what sustains fragile relationships and what exactly constitutes a family. Throughout all this Cerys Duffy’s writing and Andy McLeod’s direction prove an exceptional partnership, with the many threads of Duffy’s writing balanced perfectly alongside McLeod’s sharp and active direction. It’s rare for scene transitions to be a highlight of a show, but thumping and effective light and sound from Katy Matthews takes us effortlessly through an array of locations and time jumps all while the actors themselves remain entirely in character. Masterful stuff, particularly in the first half of the show where Duffy brilliantly makes the audience a stand-in for a silent Beth. The main problems come toward the end, however when the wide breadth of topics proves to be a bit too much to bring to a satisfying close. Everything feels rushed through as the show races toward a highly sentimental conclusion that has to reduce many of its characters more interesting and complex sides to simple caricatures so it can arrive where it wants to. Things wrap up, and it’s nice when we get there, but it all feels more forced than anything and falls short of the show’s high ambitions. Regardless the first half of the show is some of the most entertaining and intelligent theatre you’ll see all year and the ensemble of actors are wonderful throughout; Redpath in particular gives a wonderfully warm and funny performance that takes what might otherwise be quite a simple character and adds so many nuances and idiosyncrasies that one can barely take their eye off him, though he faces stiff competition from a stellar cast – see these actors now so you can say you saw them first. You’ve Gone Quiet, written by Cerys Duffy and presented by Open Handed Theatre, at the Jack Studio Theatre. Creatives : Written by Cerys Duffy (she/her) Directed by Andy McLeod (he/him) Technical Director: Katy Matthews (she/her) Intimacy Director: Natalie Grover (she/her) Cast Tara: Gennifer Becouarn (she/her) Rory: Matt Vickery (he/him) Gaz: Oliver Redpath (he/him) Samantha: Sophia Vi (she/her) Ian: Matt Roberts (he/him) Beth: Shane Convery (they/them) Instagram: @openhandedtheatre

'a window into the uniquely sensitive and devastating conversations and decisions that arise at the end of someone’s life' ★★★ ½ Despite its title, Do Not Attempt This Conversation shines a light on conversations that are both critical and unavoidable. Mo Maka’s debut play, informed by her own experience as an NHS doctor, is a window into the uniquely sensitive and devastating conversations and decisions that arise at the end of someone’s life. The play’s greatest success is its ability to represent these conversations with nuance, authenticity, and genuine empathy for all involved. Do Not Attempt This Conversation follows Dr. Nneka, played by Maka herself, an over-worked and under-supported resident doctor who must explain and defend a DNAR decision to a patient’s distraught granddaughter, desperate to save her grandfather's life by any means necessary. Both characters’ motivations are clear and sympathetic; over the course of the play’s tight 60 minutes, they each offer a wide range of relatable perspectives and insights, often contradictory. Thanks to Maka’s ability to pay equal respect to both characters, her dialogue breaks through surface level engagement with the decisions surrounding end of life care, and dives deeper into the influence of limited resources and the risk of personal bias in such decisions, while maintaining room for grief. Relatives attempting to over-rule doctors with medical advice from ChatGPT is infuriating and comical. At the same time, it’s a devastating reflection of the desperate human desire to control death. Maka’s script is also honest in its portrayal of the painful reality and improbability of extreme, potentially life-saving treatments, which do not resemble the deus ex machina cures in popular culture. Maka slips seamlessly into the role of Dr. Nneka, no doubt a result of her intimate knowledge of the script and the life of a doctor. Maka performs alongside Amaju Jade Samuel whose dry humor and commitment are nearly scene-stealing. Their performances carry the piece. Both actresses remain on stage for nearly the entire hour, locked into a single conversation that nonetheless provides a satisfying emotional arc and character development. The successful worldbuilding is particularly notable considering the lack of set or props, onstage. Maka and Samuel deliver their two-handed performance with nothing more than two chairs and a clipboard. Although these performances remain impressively engaging, the play would benefit from more dynamic blocking, action, and movement. The performance is weakest when it is its most static. The script itself is feeblest when grappling with the concept of forgiveness or considering the human capacity for change. In a piece that is otherwise thematically clear and concise, these provocations feel somewhat removed and underdeveloped. Despite minor flaws, Do Not Attempt This Conversation is a strong play from a first-time playwright. Its subject matter is universal, yet under-represented on-stage. Do Not Attempt This Conversation reminds us that even doctors cannot perform miracles - as much as we may want and need to believe they can - while also reminding us to empathise with the singular vulnerability and irrationality of grief. Audience members with and without personal history with DNAR conversations will undoubtedly connect with the raw emotion and the visceral fear of loss expressed by both characters. Do Not Attempt This Conversation is on at The Lion & Unicorn pub through the 6th of June, following runs at Edinburgh Fringe and Bread & Roses Theatre. Tickets are £15 available at https://www.thelionandunicorntheatre.com/whats-on . CONTENT ADVISORY: Strong language; themes of a sexual nature; serious illness; end-of-life decision-making (DNAR); grief; death WRITTEN BY: Mo Maka DIRECTED BY: Mo Maka OTHER CREATIVES: Amaju Jade Samuel RUNNING TIME: 60 Mins (No Interval) SOCIAL MEDIA: @mo_maka_01 .