Reviews

‘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

‘Dysmorphia is a love story, but it is also a very real account of one soldier’s journey from PTSD to recovery’ ★★★★ ½ A two-hour drama is unusual in a pub theatre space, one hour being the vogue. Added to this is the slightly off-putting sensationalism of the company’s synopsis of the show ‘breathtaking whirlwind of a rollercoaster love story’, ‘will have you on the edge of your seat from start to finish’. It all sounds like bluster, after all it’s the audience who decide such things and not the writer. The rule is ‘show’ not ‘tell’ isn’t it? Fortunately, in deciding to give it a chance, I was not disappointed. Part of the reason for going to see it, was the opportunity to have a second chance to see actor Henry Charnock, having seen him in an hilarious production of Nosferatu and found his performance to be larger than life and completely riveting. Once again, I was not disappointed and rather pleased to see that he can reign in his loud stage presence when needed. Also, a pleasure to see him in a serious role and enjoy his versatility. Dysmorphia is a love story, but it is also a story about one soldier’s journey from PTSD to recovery. In addition, there’s a kind of Bridget Jones vibe, with a beautiful character arc, played excellently by writer phoenix Benham as the put upon best friend. Her side kick, her inner voice displaying her insecurities, is played by Charnock. Joey Maragakis plays the soldier with considerable authenticity. The flashbacks he suffers are brilliantly achieved by him, enhanced with the use of sound, gunfire and ominous music. Cameron Robinson, as the brother and Marsha Bevan, as the girlfriend make up the rest of the ensemble. It is excellent casting, each playing very distinct roles with exceptional ability. The individual characters development gives each of them some meaty lines to show off their talents. It’s a story which is given plenty of time to breathe, with fairly short scenes, disconcerting at first but quickly accepted as part of the form of the piece. The black box staging, a sofa and an electric piano which was rarely used but had a big payoff at the end of the show, proves adequate. Benham has a wonderful singing voice, and importantly, her song was an integral part of the show. That magic moment when she realises that she is ‘enough’. Despite the sensationalism of the company’s promotion, this is not a ‘sensational’ show, instead it feels like a very real account of one Officer’s struggle to overcome trauma and the effect it has on those surrounding him. It is a very positive story showing how he grows as a person, through his coming to terms with the death of his best friend who died on the battlefield. This is certainly not to glorify war, and neither is it really a tale about war, nor is it an anti-war drama, instead it is a tale about love. It isn’t a straight line and in the process the dynamics of the group go through a number of changes. It’s a very human story with character flaws and mistakes made. A very satisfying evening of theatre. BOX OFFICE Produced by Tatts ‘n’ Talent Theatre Company https://tattsntalent.com/ CAST: Phoenix Benham, ‘Luna’, Joey Maragakis, ‘Theo’ Henry Charnock, ‘I.V’ Cameron Robinson, ‘Charles’, Marsha Bevan, ‘Siobhan’.

‘Willoughby and McAllister give flawless performances as they sing and play a pair of guitars, showing real chemistry in the process.’ ★★★  It’s a setup straight out of a romcom; Zach (Peter Willoughby) is crashing out of his failing music career, fighting a thirst for alcohol as much as flight delays in a Los Angeles airport when he bumps into Angel (Emma McAllister), a woman who seems guided by fate to stop him boarding his plane. Romance blooms between the two as the show progresses and dark secrets are revealed, but there are a few bumps in the road of this feel-good journey. The show comes off a little overly-absorbed in Zach’s struggles to the exclusion of other areas of obvious interest, such as the background of McAllister’s character or even the world surrounding them both. This latter aspect certainly needs fleshing out, as although there are isolated examples of clever tech and set design the show is notably lacking in these areas. The overwhelming focus on Zach does the show a disservice primarily due to the fact that his character fails to charm; we are more often directly told that Zach is brilliant and wonderful than ever really shown it and his ‘struggles’ come across as whiny rather than compelling. A good example is near the end as his father tries to make amends for past wrongs, only for Zach to jump into a song decrying the older man’s past crimes, including laughing as he tried to learn to ride a bike as a child. It’s more a bruised ego than dark past. Thankfully the show has saving graces beyond these flaws. Opposite Willoughby, McAllister gives a star performance, delivering the best bits of the night with excellent comedic timing and heartfelt dramatic delivery. Though the script was apparently written well before her involvement, McAllister’s performance gives a good case for her character having a larger role in the play. Most importantly, the music of this musical has more hits than misses - both Willoughby and McAllister give flawless performances as they sing and play a pair of guitars, showing real chemistry in the process. The show’s tunes are are typically high-quality but do have a tendency to be quite similar within themselves and could have done with some additional variation in the mix – not surprising given the show’s overall feeling of two steps forward and one step back. All together then, it is a pleasant show that falls short of special – a little further refinement may well close that gap. Fallen Angels runs at The Drayton Arms Theatre from 25th March – 29th March 2025 Book, Music & Lyrics by Sara Eker and Giles Fernando Directed by Penny Gkritzapi Box office: https://www.thedraytonarmstheatre.co.uk/fallen-angel Produced by Paradigm Productions Reviewed by Harry Conway

'Willis commands the stage, and the four-person ensemble backs him solidly at every turn, however …‘ ★★★ Let me kick this off by saying three things. One, this show is beautiful to look at and listen to. It's a masterclass in how to weave together theatre and gig aesthetics. Two, every performer in this is excellent. Many an actor has been asked to sing a little, or play a bit of guitar on stage—but few are asked to emote their hearts out while also performing what is, essentially, a mini tribute concert of some of the last century's most beloved rock songs. Wilko's cast pulls this off with flair to spare. Three, I am probably the last person in the world qualified to give an opinion on 70s pub rock. The Southwark's auditorium was filled with original fans of Wilko Johnson, Dr. Feelgood and co., ones who demonstrated far more knowledge of the play's subject than me. The man on my left was pointing out when the bass line was too quiet; the man on my right was pleased that the show had finally changed its staging to a more concert-like style. Wilko's son Simon was in the audience, as was his former band mate Norman Watt-Roy, and both approved of how this production had chosen to tell the guitar legend's life story. However. Wilko: Love and Death and Rock 'n' Roll markets itself like this: ‘In 2012, Wilko Johnson (…) was told he had inoperable cancer and a year to live. Refusing all treatment, he decided to spend his last months living meaningfully: seeing the people, places and things which meant most to him during his remarkable life. Then, a miracle happened…’ That sounds like a play about a man learning to love life because he's facing death; the true story of someone who famously had a one-last-hurrah tour and was then forced to inform the world that he was not, after all, dying. That's a fascinating story—that's a character arc I'd love to see. That is not, however, quite what this production is. Although the play starts off with Wilko's cancer diagnosis, the first act uses this only as a reason to retell the rock legend's life before that point—death as a chance to summarise for the audience his school days, his busking, his first band, his marriage. We don't see him actually living with the diagnosis until the second act. That means the first half has a curiously tame, old-fashioned structure, leading us step-by-step through biographical highlights. It is, admittedly, a good excuse to play some of Wilko's greatest hits, to audience acclaim. But these performances clash strangely with the tone of the surrounding scenes, where director Dugald Bruce Lockhard leans heavily into tinkling music, romantic birdsong and softly rushing waves. It's the type of show where the lead couple—Johnson Willis as Wilko and Georgina Fairbanks as Irene—are supposedly madly in love, but never do more than sedately embrace under a flattering spotlight. It's also the type of show where the wife, long dead, appears to her husband in a hallucination and tells him sweetly not to worry about all the cheating, betrayal, neglect—he's a complex person, and that's why she loved him after all. That's a tough relationship message to get across, and it requires a defter hand than the one used here. The second act actually tackles Wilko's life while living with cancer, and it has more meat. Johnson Willis, fantastic as the titular character throughout, clearly relishes his role here, and pulls off some excellent monologues about life and death and Japanese spirituality. "I try to accept my insignificance,’ he sighs. ‘Not easy for a rock god.’ Willis commands the stage, and the four-person ensemble backs him solidly at every turn. But even here, the exploration of Wilko's psychological journey feels either perfunctory—reflections hacked off too soon—or on the nose and glib. ‘This is like A Christmas Carol,’ Wilko explains, before the ghost of his old bandmate shows up to teach him that he was inconsiderate and rude. Maybe it is. But the play's own pitch promised something darker and more interesting. Fans of Wilko Johnson as a musician have plenty to enjoy here. Audience members wishing for a psychological exploration may leave less satisfied. Box Office Photo credit: Mark Sepple Cast Wilko Johnson: Johnson Willis Irene Knight: Georgina Fairbanks Sparko: Georgina Fields Lee Brilleaux: Jon House Big Figure: David John Creative Team Director: Dugald Bruce Lockhard Writer: Jonathan Maitland Designer: Nicolai Hart-Hensen Lighting Designer: James Stokes Sound Designer: Simon Slater Producer: Denise Silvey Marketing & PR: Mobius Industries

‘The horrors you can never forget’ ★★★★ He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’ Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars. And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’ From William Shakespeare’s Henry V The reality is not what Henry V suggested. Old soldiers are too haunted by memories that will not go away to boast. War is hell, and it always has been. The only people to benefit are cynical leaders, who profit from the dreadful deaths of others, and who make up heroic myths to keep the poor bloody infantry in line. “I’m right behind you” the first world war general assures his soldiers in Blackadder. “About 40 miles behind” replies Blackadder, sotto voce. After Agincourt offers a very simple premise, as many of the best theatrical ideas do. Pistol is a minor character in Shakespeare’s Henry V, where he is presented as a drunken foul-mouthed braggart, whom the Welsh soldier Fluellen humiliates, forcing him to eat a raw leak to escape a beating. In this 75 minute monologue, Pistol goes home from the war, having seen things that no one should ever see, and having lost his friends, Falstaff, Nym and Bardolph, in France, and his wife, Mistress Nell Quickly, in England. Nell, he tells us, died of the pox, “an occupational hazard”, for like many women of the time, Nell partly earned her bread and his beer by selling her body. But where Shakespeare used him only as a foil for others, and is content to have him as a laughing stock, Peter Mottley makes him the centre of his play, and wants to understand him and make us care about him. Henry V, before he was king, was a friend and drinking companion to them all. Shakespeare presents Henry’s decision to have Nym and Bardolph hanged for looting a church as a decisive and even heroic rejection of his tumultuous youth. Mottley’s Pistol sees it as a betrayal, and you can hardly blame him. Henry has already killed Falstaff by rejecting him – “I know you not, old man” – and now he hangs two more old friends who didn’t even mean to loot the church – they went in to pray, and then gave way to temptation, stealing a couple of trinkets that turned out to be almost valueless. These were the friends of Henry’s youth. He had drunk with them, accepted their friendship, enjoyed their company, learned about life from them, and “he was not above giving Nell a good seeing to upstairs” either. Yet “he sat in his best armour and gave the order for two of his mates to have the life choked out of them.” He tells his soldiers “For he today who sheds his blood with me shall be my brother” and Pistol says bitterly: “Tell that to Bardolph and Nym.” Those who benefit from war are not those who fight it. Henry V benefits. Vladimir Putin benefits. For Pistol, for the poor Russian soldiers sent to try to conquer Ukraine, there is nothing but misery, and either death or a legacy of terrible memories that never go away. This is a tremendous play, full of dreadful images of war and sudden flashes of laugh-out-loud humour. At the centre of it, actor Gareth David Lloyd gives us a Pistol whom we believe in and whom we care about, with all his human failings, in a bar, drunk, trying unsuccessfully to drown his sorrows. Lloyd’s performance is magnificent. If I had to nitpick, I would say that he shouts a little bit too often and a little bit too loudly – sometimes, in this tiny theatre, it threatens to break the magic. If you live within striking distance of Kentish Town, forget the glitzy and expensive west end for an evening - there is a moving, original, absorbing theatrical experience on your doorstep, and it will cost you a fraction of what the West End will set you back. Box Office After Agincourt The Lion & Unicorn Theatre until 5 April 2025 SHOW INFORMATION: WRITTEN BY: Peter Mottley DIRECTED BY: Paul Olding OTHER CREATIVES: Gareth David-Lloyd (Pistol) RUNNING TIME: 75 Mins (No Interval) SOCIAL MEDIA: @TheCrookedBillets

‘One too many issues thrown into the melting pot.’ ★★ Set on a minimalistic stage, with only standing lights and a bench of homely familiarities, SPENT is a psychological two-hander exploring love, sex, career progressions and the power dynamics that interchange between them. The actors begin by turning on the lights. Under intense, garish, bruise-coloured shine, there is an interrogation at play: the audience needs to pay attention. We meet our characters, A and B, as new flatmates, but the non-linear progression of the play shows us conversations of sexual exploration, awkward family dinners, and mental health struggles. With the play being gender-swapped every other run, I watched as the male, A, an “ambitious executive” with a loving family, and the female, B, a “struggling artist” with a dysfunctional past, fall in love. Communications between the two were initially clear, with rules to their relationship and lives established between the unseen every day: we felt like we were watching the couple learn of and from each other in real time. This often felt too expositional, as there was never an implication of secret keeping, just secrets revealed to us before we had a chance to digest the last ones. With them constantly challenging one another, reminiscent of Beatrice and Benedict, the audience couldn’t take sides – we could only watch the couple inevitably fall apart. Running at 1.5 hours, the time jumps intended to quicken the pace of the play, yet unfortunately instead left us with more questions: with the timeline not matching the pace of their ever-changing relationship, it was hard to keep up with where they were supposed to be. The actors’ chemistry, however, was undeniable – and it was intriguing to watch the players onstage and wonder how the story would go if the genders were reversed. With every relationship comes complications, yet in this one there felt like too many issues were thrown into the melting pot. Overall, SPENT was a complicated portrayal of a complicated relationship, but despite strong performances and lighting choices, I couldn’t help wishing for something simpler. Review by Anna Rastelli SPENT The Old Red Lion 18th - 29th March 2025 Box Office Cast & Creatives Director: Helen Cunningham Writer/Actor (female): Nikoletta Soumelidis Actor (male): Charlie Collinson Movement Director: Lauren Lucy Cook Composer/Tech: Sophie Sparkes

"a powerfully moving work" ★★★★★ Suicide is one of the biggest killers of men in the UK. This is an astounding and terrible truth. Double Act, originally performed at the Lion & Unicorn last year and shortlisted for a London Pub Theatres, 2024 Standing Ovation Award for Best Duologue is back. Now at Southwark Playhouse Borough, it intends to get audiences talking about this awful indictment on society which both produces, and fails to understand or protect, so many sad, resigned men and boys. Three acts across one day: morning, afternoon, and evening centre on the life of a single man. This individual is performed by not one but two actors, hence the title of the piece. As a representation of inner conflict and a warring self, this is incredibly effective. X, played by Oliver Maynard, is a stickler for punctuality and constantly reminds Y, played by writer-performer Nick Hyde, of all the things he should be grateful for. Sometimes they speak in unity, sometimes discordantly and sometimes they bicker and harangue each other. Skillfully written and sensitively directed by Jef Hall-Flavin, this 90-minute piece with no interval takes the darkest of subjects and invites an audience to witness, consider and reflect. The two performers, entirely in sympatico, wear the white powder and tear-stained black eyes of traditional clowns and mime artists. Through the captivating power of physical theatre, comedy and storytelling, the audience is walked through the anointed day. There are encounters with nosy neighbours, an old friend, an ex, a ticket collector, and interactions with talking machines that serve to highlight a sense of urban isolation. Most of the dialogue we hear happens as internal commentary, reminding us how much time some spend in their own heads, not necessarily a healthy place to reside. And the actual conversations with others: funny, entertaining, odd, serve to ratchet up the stakes. Each encounter is a lost opportunity for connection or understanding. Double Act does not preach, pontificate, or set out to shock the audience. Instead, creative text, sensitive direction by Jef Hall-Flavin and multi-role, absorbing performances make it enjoyable to watch and as beguiling as the theme tune to MASH. Look it up. The role of masculine performativity is explored: what this looks like and how it feels to be alienated by myriad social expectations. The traditional sad clown mask illustrates the masks many men wear daily, hoping to ‘pass’ for what constitutes ‘a man’. A critic's instinct tells me Double Act could be shorter. Ninety minutes with no break on this subject is an ask. But in this context, this observation seems inappropriate. In the UK, a man kills himself every 90 seconds. This means in the time it takes to watch Double Act, sixty men will take their own lives, a sobering thought. What’s needed is more time for each other, not less. And this valuable, powerfully moving piece of work fills the space memorably. Robbie Nestor presents Double Act by Nick Hyde 19 MAR - 5 APR 2025 BOX OFFICE Photography: Tanya Parabu

‘In its best moments, Good Grief offers a compelling exploration of what it is to live with grief.’ ★★ ½ Writing about grief is challenging. It is an emotion that often makes us close in on ourselves. As a result, it can be difficult to construct a play about grief that invites the audience in, rather than pushing them away. In its best moments, Good Grief overcomes this difficulty and offers a compelling exploration of what it is to grieve and – more importantly – what it is to grieve in a world that seems to be largely indifferent to your suffering. The play follows Alex in the months after his wife Alison’s death. We watch as he navigates his grief while also trying to negotiate his relationships – with his best friend, his daughter, his brother, and even with the spectre of his dead wife. Through a series of events – both real and imagined – Alex begins the long process of learning to live with his loss. He even takes some tentative steps towards turning his grief into something good, using it to inform how he interacts with others. Writer Matt Adie has written a very funny script that finds ways to make even the most heartbreaking aspects of losing a loved one echo with a poignant humour. On a thematic level, the play offers a well-rounded exploration of grief and resists the urge to have a neat ending: we leave Alex not as a man recovered, but as a man learning to live with a sadness that will never completely leave him. Another highlight of the script is its nimbleness; Adie moves us between scenes swiftly and playfully – for example cutting between a doctor’s appointment and Alex’s recounting of it in an almost filmic fashion. However, the production could have done more to delineate these quick cuts, perhaps through clearer lighting shifts or sharper movement choices. The cast give strong performances across the board. Danny Swanson (Alex) does well with a hefty part that often swings from heartfelt dialogue to heated diatribe. His performance is especially compelling when he is playing across from Georgina Bennett, who plays Ella. The pair excellently capture the dynamic of a father-daughter duo who are trying their best to find solace in one another. Kudos must also go to Julia Riley, who squeezes as much as she can out of each of her many characters. The primary flaw of the play is that it is not able to find a satisfying narrative within which to structure its exploration of grief. We are served not so much a story as a set of vignettes and observations. As a result, the play feels more like a treatise on grief, rather than a story about it. While this approach offers poignant moments, it struggles to sustain the play’s length. During the second half, the play begins to stall as it continues to tread the same ground without offering the audience any sense of journey or evolving stakes. If Alex had been forced to make difficult choices or actively fight to salvage his relationships, the emotional stakes could have been heightened, making his journey more compelling. Ultimately, Good Grief made me laugh and think, but only occasionally did it make me feel. When it did, the play’s potential to elicit deep emotion was undeniable. Good Grief by Matt Adie / Sense of Place Theatre / The Hen & Chickens Theatre / 18 – 22 March 2025  Images: Simon Wallace, Meltingpot Pictures

‘A Mesmerizing Fusion of Technology and Emotion’ ★★★★ ½ It’s a show like no other. The mysterious title offers little hint of what to expect—until you’re struck by the intricate web of electronic lines and scattered machines messily yet beautifully arranged on the traverse stage. Throughout the performance, these tangled wires, computers, speakers, radios, and microphones become more than just props; they take on a life of their own, shaping the atmosphere and storytelling in this solo show. Chris Fung, the sole performer, seamlessly embodies multiple roles—his mother, friends, and wife—using an array of technological devices. This interplay between performer and tech is not just a theatrical gimmick but a deeper reflection of perception and memory. Are these characters truly real, or are they the main character’s fragmented interpretations of them? As Chris converses with these figures in his mind, the audience is drawn into a profound emotional journey exploring identity, expectations, love, and loss. Performance-wise, Fung exudes an irresistible charisma, skilfully commanding the stage and shifting its energy with rhythmic precision. The staging, directed by Rupert Hands, is nothing short of masterful—turning cold, impersonal technology into vessels of human longing. What’s truly mesmerizing is how the show transforms these devices into emotional conduits; at first, you might marvel at the cleverness of the tech-driven performance, but soon, you find yourself believing that the silver MacBook at the centre of the stage is his Chinese mother, a symbol of the societal expectations that weigh on him. The irony is striking—these technological tools, often seen as isolating, become the very instruments that expose the character’s internal turmoil. The writer and performer describes the show as an exploration of East Asian masculinity and the devastation of heartbreak. However, what resonated most for me was the poetic chaos of our inner struggles—the desperate, tangled attempt to make sense of the world and our place within it. The show is on at the Omnibus Theatre until the 5th of April, so don’t miss it! THE SOCIETY FOR NEW CUISINE at Omnibus Theatre 19 March – 5 April 2025 Presented by Fun Guy Productions BOX OFFICE https://www.omnibus-clapham.org/the-society-for-new-cuisine/ Photos by @bykenny.k - Kenny Kung Writer and Performer @chrisbfung - Chris Fung Dir. @ruperthands Set and Costume: @yimeidesign Sound: @jamieludesigns Lights: @raj_ld Assistant Dir.: @eilidh_evs Stage Management: Alexandra Kataigida @omnibustheatre @nordenfarm @funguytheatre