Reviews

‘A real exploration of a queer, messy heartbreak, the challenges of missing home and fear of loneliness’ ★★★ ½ Ava and Dodi are doomed. We know too well how this is going to end. Yet, somehow, as if swooped into a fantasy world, we still hope until the very last word of the play that these two will reunite and find an emotional common ground. ‘Give Her My Love’ confronts us with the difficulties of relationships, the complications when faced with the other part’s incompatible needs, and the fear of letting go, denying the possibility of being alone. A mix of monologues and duologues told through a fractured timeline guides us in the heart of the relationship. Ava (fantastically portrayed by Dión Di Maio), loses her mother and seeks comfort in Dodi (played with delightful subtlety by Aoife Morgan Jones). We instantly fall under Ava’s spell, in awe of her bold and free nature, and charming Irish sense of humour. She feels out of place in the graceful decorum, the flowery curtain, and pink stage lights which rather reflects Dodi’s personality. She is young, in love, maybe a little naïve, but also grounded. Whereas Ava cannot stand in one place: she misses home – or maybe, she doesn’t know where home is anymore. Somehow, in this queer relationship, we recognize the same hierarchal pattern and dynamics you would find in a heterosexual couple. As society imposes on us stereotypes of genres to identify with, Ava seems to comply to masculine traits: she strings Dodi along, lies, and is incapable of expressing her feelings, or, sometimes, understanding them at all. Overall, the material of the piece feels drawn-out in some places, especially during monologues, and confusing in others – when different characters are mentioned, for example. But the terrific chemistry between Aoife and Dión, both excelling in giving us such close-to-reality characters and portraying with impeccable truth the complexity of their predicament, leaves us wanting more in each of their gripping scenes. Give Her My Love by Jake Hart, directed by Sorcha Harris, starring Dión Di Maio & Aoife Morgan Jones Barons Court Theatre 3 – 14 March 2026 BOX OFFICE

‘high praise, but … ’ ★★★ There are times with reviews when the individual parts of a play merit more than the overall rating and A Murmuration of Starlings is a difficult example of that. The staging’s inventive and ideal for the material. The acting is universally good, with the two male leads in particular, who have, to be fair, the stronger and perhaps showier parts, both demonstrating considerable physical and verbal dexterity, and courage in tackling sensitive themes. The problem, though, and it’s a difficulty it’s impossible to talk about without sounding a little callous, is that life is not drama, and that characters without agency are also characters without conflict or, in the dramatic sense of the term, jeopardy. There’s no solution to a man with dementia. The story told here is moving. The struggles of the characters are deeply felt; as human beings we care for them, but as dramatic characters, they can do nothing to alter their situation, nothing to progress. A highly skilled writer and director swells hearts with sympathy for the human tragedy at the centre of the play, but there’s no dramatic conflict capable of resolution, no hope at the bottom of this Pandora’s box. Two Acts watching characters exist in a situation they cannot resolve rends the senses, but as the gradual realisation dawns that we’ll see a beautifully unfolded fractured flashback telling us how we got to this point in two lives destroyed by dementia, the man and the woman who loves him, so does the realisation grow that there’s nothing at stake until death or, in a play, lights down releases us. That essential difficulty aside, there is so much to admire in Joe Graham’s play. We meet a couple coming home from a walk and immediately realise he (Steve Hay) is a man whose mind is lost while she (Jenny Johns, a perfect picture of stoic frustration) has to cope with his ramblings, repetitions, random digressions and journeys, both physical and verbal, into the past that brought them together. For at its heart, the play’s a love story – an unfolding in broken time and gradually clearing confusion of how their younger selves (Johnny Dagnell and Jennifer Barton) first met, and an exploration of the memories and symbols that hold them together now that one of them, effectively, has gone but still remains. Audiovisuals are used to great effect to create both scenes (a bus stop) and symbolic images (that murmuration of starlings of the title, swirling and swooping wondrously, confusedly, brilliantly, chaotically about the sky). Music’s cleverly integrated, too, both to revive memories and to invite in ‘the monster’ that’s destroying both mind and memory. Is it destroying love? It is certainly testing it to the limit, and the final scenes where the older couple seem close to the end of an horrific tether while the younger couple are tentatively finding each other for the first time is a touching and tender finale. As said at the opening, the parts of this production are individually enough to win high praise, but the overall effect doesn’t quite add up the sum of those parts. A test of endurance for the disintegrating couple with an inevitability that also tests an audience’s endurance even as it reminds them of the discomfort of mortality and the fragility of love. A MURMURATION OF STARLINGS, Written and directed by Joe Graham at Seven Dials Playhouse 3 - 14 March 2026 Box Office: SevenDialsPlayhouse.co.uk Review: David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London). His novel, The Honourable Member for Murder, will be published in August 2026.

“The striking theatrical form cannot compensate for a meandering narrative that settles into familiar patterns” ★★ SALT, currently playing the London leg of its UK tour at Riverside Studios, is an ambitious piece of stylised theatre set in a fishing village on the East Norfolk coast in 1770. The story centres on Man Billy, a young fisherman living with his mother, Widow Pruttock. Their relationship is intense and strained, shaped by loneliness and their outsider status within the community. Into this uneasy world arrives Sheldis, a travelling singer whose presence captivates Man Billy. Seeing her as a means of escape, he falls under her spell. As his attachment deepens, tensions between mother and son escalate, driving the narrative toward a tragic conclusion. The production is performed by three actors in the round, inside a simple circle of white rope that evokes both a fishing net and a ritual boundary. Props - naturalistic and period-appropriate - are carried on and off throughout the performance, reinforcing the sense of a working fishing community. Costumes are suitably authentic to the period and help anchor the stylised staging in a recognisable historical setting. Director Beau Hopkins utilises a theatrical language of movement, song and heightened text. The piece blends poetic dialogue with sea shanties and folk songs, some traditional and some composed for the production. The cast are fully committed to this approach. Bess Roche, as Sheldis, is particularly compelling, with a haunting singing voice and strong stage presence. Mylo McDonald brings intensity to Man Billy, while Emily Outred offers a grounded portrayal of the embittered Widow Pruttock. However, while the aesthetic ambitions of the piece are clear, the production struggles with pacing. The first half is dominated by extended passages of poetic verse and song that often stall rather than advance the narrative, making it difficult for the story to gain traction. The world of the play is bleak and unforgiving, and the relentless antagonism between characters risks alienating the audience rather than drawing them into the drama. The plot begins to develop more fully in the second half, yet the shift leans heavily toward melodrama. The story ultimately echoes familiar tragic frameworks - somewhere between Oedipus Rex and Medea - without offering a truly fresh perspective. The script’s treatment of its female characters is also difficult to overlook. Derogatory and sexualised language toward women appears frequently throughout the text, and while such terminology may reflect the historical setting, its repetition begins to feel gratuitous. More significantly, the narrative consistently positions women as the cause of Man Billy’s downfall - his mother for repressing him, and Sheldis as the manipulative temptress who drives him toward violence. The play never meaningfully interrogates Man Billy’s own responsibility for his actions, leaning instead on a well-worn and somewhat tired trope. SALT is undeniably an ambitious production. Hopkins’ direction makes inventive use of the space, incorporating movement and choreography in ways that keep the staging visually bold. Its fusion of ritual performance, folk music and poetic storytelling demonstrates a willingness to take creative risks. However, the execution ultimately falls short. The striking theatrical form cannot compensate for a meandering narrative that settles into familiar patterns, leaving SALT an intriguing idea that never fully develops. Writer/Director – Beau Hopkins Widow Pruttock – Emily Outred Man Billy – Mylo McDonald Sheldis – Bess Roche Photo credit: Peter Morgan Box Office: Salt | Riverside Studios

'This production team brings an added element by injecting just the right song for each scene' ★★★ ½ The strange juxtaposition of Fleabag wiping blood from her nose and claiming “This is a love story”, that now famous opening line, could also apply to this quirky play about two childhood friends, Doug (Rudra Bharadwaj) and Kayleen ( Kristyna Havelkova). They are both prone to injury, whether accidental or self-inflicted, but there is a perplexing attraction in their midst. Doug believes that Kayleen (or Leenie) can heal him, that her touch possesses power, and yet she is unable to see it, or figure out how to help herself. While big, colourful letters on the wall remind us that this is about “gruesome playground injuries”, two large boxes, two benches, and two blue-and-white striped pillows are all that are used on stage. Numerous costume changes, with the actors delving into the boxes, while exchanging some knowing glances, are conducted in view of the audience, to a rocking playlist. Maggie O’Farrell, author of Hamnet wrote a memoir called I Am I Am I Am: 17 Brushes with Death, which I recalled when watching this piece. This story is told in a series of non-chronological scenes at different stages of the protagonists' lives, and the actors effortlessly change facial expressions and mannerisms for their respective ages… and injuries. From the moment they meet in the school's nurse's office, their lives converge and diverge, even as they experience illness and injury. There is significant ambiguity in this piece about what causes these two to want to take huge risks or self-harm, and why they have such a ‘will they/won’t they?’ relationship; yet, with the mental health challenges faced by today’s youth, this piece does have something to offer. There is humour in the midst of the darkness, and when the situations become more outlandish, there is more evidence of the two young people’s never-ceasing care for each other. This production team brings an added element by injecting just the right song for each scene, such as “I’m Still Standing” by Elton John and Tracy Chapman crooning, “Give me another reason to stay here… you gotta make me change my mind”. It creates variety to the pace and sympathy for our star-crossed lovers, as we listen to The Cure’s To Wish Impossible Things: “Remember how we used to be... these days would never end” and our heart breaks a little to The Magnetic Fields’ All My Little Words: “You are a splendid butterfly… But I could never make you stay”. American playwright Rajiv Joseph is having a moment in Britain, with two long-run shows in the first half of this year at other theatres (Bengal Tiger and Archduke). This is a chance to taste his dark humour and unconventional storytelling. I can’t help thinking this was a break for him from the serious, political pieces he is usually working on, and gives the audience a chance to experience a universe in which love hurts… literally. Written by Rajiv Joseph Performed by Rudra Bharadwaj, Kristyna Havelkova Directed by Alex Stroming Produced by Rebecca Tozzoli-Clozza, AThespian Studios Movement Direction by Tutu Ching Technical Stage Manager: Jessica Potts

‘Mariia Petrovska stories and beautiful songs are the undoubted highlight of the evening’ ★★★ ½ A man is restless whilst his wife sleeps next to him. He scrolls endlessly through social media on his phone. It is a scene we can all associate with perhaps. Or at least until we realise he is weighing up whether to head to the bomb shelter because there is an air raid. For this is Ukraine 2026, his wife and children are no longer actually there, and his friends on social media are posting about either being in exile or on the frontline. Ukrainian writer Natalka Vorozhbyt’s compelling short play Three Mates (translated by Sasha Dugdale), with its dreamlike quality, is one of five short plays that form Ukraine Unbroken. Nicolas Kent curates and directs the evening (with the exception of Three Mates which is directed by Victoria Gartner). Ukraine Unbroken aims to present the recent history of Ukraine and contextualise the current conflict. The individual plays’ themes and focus are eclectic. Chronologically the evening begins in a hotel room in 2014 with John Myerson’s Always, set amid protests in Kyiv during the “Revolution of Dignity”. The tense scenario, with a married couple watching protesters being attacked below and knowing their son is among them, provides some of the context for the evening: Ukraine’s post-Soviet democratic instability, the uneasy relationship with Russia, and the complex regional tensions within the country itself. David Edgar has great fun with his play, Five Days War. A band of mediocre, failed politicians are brought together for a mysterious hunting trip, only to learn they will form a puppet government under Russian influence when Kyiv falls. We witness the absurdity of their communications training whilst they gradually realise there is perhaps no need to fight over the top jobs as the attack on Kyiv, and plans to remove Zelenskyy’s government, fail. David Greig, like Edgar, has written plays set in the region before. His short play Wretched Things is a universal tale of soldiers trying to balance morality with survival. It is the final play of the evening, Cat Goscovitch’s Taken, which packs the biggest emotional punch. On her twelfth birthday Lilya (Clara Read) is taken from her mother Anna (Jade Williams) in Mariupol and sent to an education camp in Russia. Read and Williams are excellent as we follow the fraught journey of a mother trying to bring her daughter home, a daughter who, after a year, has changed greatly. Overall, Ukraine Unbroken provides some interesting insight into the current conflict in Ukraine. The staging, design and the cast bring the stories to life. Five plays are probably too much, and it might have benefitted from having fewer plays with each having more time to explore their stories. Moreover, it is a shame there are not more Ukrainian voices in the evening. This is brought home by the presence of a Ukrainian actor and Mariia Petrovska. Her stories and beautiful songs, played on a bandura (a traditional Ukrainian instrument) between the plays are the undoubted highlight of the evening. UKRAINE UNBROKEN Playing at the Arcola Theatre 27 February - 28 March 2026 https://www.arcolatheatre.com/event/ukraine-unbroken/ Conceived and directed by Nicolas Kent. Plays by David Edgar, Cat Goscovitch, David Greig, Jonathan Myerson and Natalka Vorozhbyt (translated by Sasha Dugdale). Produced by the Arcola Theatre and Nick of Time Productions Images: Tristram Kenton

"Savage is one of those ever-important stories, just told in a slightly stagey and uninspiring kind of way"★★ In a semi-true story rich in history and topicality, Savage by Claudio Macor takes us to Nazi occupied Copenhagen, where we witness a love story torn apart by the worst kind of ideological horror. Nikolai (Kerill Kelly) and Zack (Matthew Hartley) are secret lovers haunting the city's shadowy streets, frequenting the underground gay bars and stealing kisses under streetlamps. While homosexuality was decriminalised in Denmark in 1933, this is the reign of the Third Reich and "undesirables" are being removed from society to the camps. When Nikolai is beaten and arrested one night, he's taken to the clinic of Dr Carl Peter Vaernet (Mark Kitto), an apparently well-meaning medical madman who claims to have discovered a "cure" for homosexuality. Kitto's demeanour of kindly authority is extremely well-suited to this role, which is one of the things that works well in the play. If we are to be put in the shoes of all the people that believed this nonsense, we need to fall for it too. What follows is a harrowing, humiliating, and tortuous treatment regime involving the injection of monkey testosterone into the patient's testicles, under the ever-watchful evil-eye of Nazi official General Heinrich von Aeschelman (Tom Everatt). The General has a particularly sinister interest in the procedure as a closeted man himself: a monster that keeps his cabaret star boyfriend (of the non-consensual sort), Georg (Jonathon Nielsen-Keen), essentially captive at home. As you can see, the story is ripe and rich and layered, while still being easy to follow, and grounded in the largely forgotten real-life work of Dr. Vaernet. For me though, the blocky scenes come across as dramatic, but emotionless, a bit unimaginative, with a tendency for over-acting. Their power and potential is often lost to toneless exchanges and rigid turn-taking dialogue. While there are some neat lines that are clearly supposed to shine, this does result in two-dimensional characters with whom you feel no affinity, though I appreciate some of the language and delivery is a stylistic choice to reflect the period. Nevertheless, paired with functional, but quite ordinary, light and sound, and template direction that moves people around the stage with little heart, the sheer monstrousness of the actual action leaves mostly little shock or sadness, despite some brave moments; Georg and Nikolai being forced to stand naked opposite one another to prove their rehabilitation comes to mind. But the pedestrian theatricality of it all, occasionally suffocating in such a small space, undermines its power. While it's not a new play, maybe it has too much ambition for smaller venues – its story too big and too grand for its setting. A more terrifying, atmospheric two-hander in the bowels of the doctor's purgatory-surgery might have had more potency. As it is, it spans a number of times, locations and characters, and it's unclear exactly whose story it is. The ending comes suddenly and in quite a different style, as if they weren't quite sure when and how to wrap it up. But overall Savage is one of those ever-important stories, just told in a slightly stagey and uninspiring kind of way. However, the subject is as timeless as it is topical, and its reminder that conversion therapy is still legal in the UK is deeply sobering – making you wonder where, and whether, that savagery ever really ended. Savage by Claudio Macor Directed by Robert McWhir Produced by Lambco Productions & Josephine Buchan White Bear Theatre, 25 February - 15 March 2026 Box Office: https://www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk/whatson/savage Reviewed by Alix Owen

‘a very worthy recognition of Ukrainian fortitude and resilience, and a good metaphor for the motive power behind their resistance’ ★★★★ Four years ago almost to the day, if we ignore the annexation of the Crimea some years earlier, Vladimir Putin sent a huge army into Ukraine to force the ceding of large tracts of territory. Since then, Ukrainians have been engaged in a hugely costly defence of their nation. Ukrainian playwright Polina Polozhentseva has written a short play that acknowledges this anniversary, on stage at the Jack Studio in Brockley until Saturday 28 th February. When the Russians invaded, Lukyana did a runner from Ukraine, going to Poland where she could love whoever she liked, eat whatever she wanted, and not get bombed or shot or drafted. Then her granny who had brought her up, dies, and bequeaths Lukyana her little house in an idyllic village untouched by conflict, on the proviso that she lives there for one month. The contemporary resonances take a back seat for a while, when the next door neighbour Aunt Valya (played with enormous bouncy warmth by Nailah S. Cumberbatch) reveals that her granny was a Wise Woman, a Village Whisperer, who had used her gifts to keep her corner of her native soil safe from outside interference. Lukyana, modern woman that she is, has no truck with this superstitious nonsense, and invites her Ukrainian ex to come for no strings sex, all the while chatting with her Polish fiancé on her mobile phone. This is the set-up for a very effective contemporary folk tale. The voiced offstage boyfriend is caring and concerned, the Ukrainian ex (played with masterly precision by the doubtless lovely Christopher Watson) is an unredeemed twerp, and seems like a sufficient reason to head back across the border all on his own. The story is the growth of acceptance by Lukyana that her granny did indeed have gifts, and she may have them too, and she owes it to her home soil to protect it. There’s magic at work under the realistic shell, and Lukyana’s developing acceptance is beautifully traced by Sofia Natoli. Folk tales have a peculiar resonance, and may hold more power in Central Europe than they do in the unsentimental west, but this excellent company makes it work. It’s a very worthy recognition of Ukrainian fortitude and resilience, and a good metaphor for the motive power behind their resistance. Their country matters to them. The play has ended, but it amply repays a trip to the Brockley Jack should it get another run. Keep in touch with the company: Instagram @thevillagewherenoonsuffers Sofia Natoli as Lukyana Nailah S. Cumberbatch as Aunt Valya Christopher Watson as Pasha Directed by Valery Reva Written by Polina Polozhentseva

 “Smart, unsettling, and thoroughly entertaining” ★★★★ A thrilling blend of dark comedy and horror, WEREWOLF SIGHTED IN PORT TALBOT hooks the audience with its quirky premise and naturalistic approach. Playing at The Old Red Lion Playhouse, this engaging piece by Andy Sellers explores relationship dynamics through a supernatural lens with impressive deftness. A couple have pitched their tent in the Welsh countryside, where transformation proves more than metaphorical: Ffion is turning into a werewolf, and Billy attempts to act as moral support - with mixed results. What begins playfully tightens into something far darker. The cast is uniformly strong. Sellers plays Billy with humorously pedantic intensity that lands as charmingly geeky and disarmingly earnest, while Lucy Harvard gives Ffion a grounded realism that anchors the play as events spiral into the uncanny. Their chemistry keeps the stakes intimate and immediate. Jenny Wall nearly steals the show in a hilarious turn as Kat, the jaunty visitor whose chirpy obliviousness is impeccably timed. Under the assured direction of Adrian Greensmith, the production flows cleanly between comedy and psychological horror without jarring shifts. The pared-back black-box set - a tent and scattered camping accoutrements - is simple but effective, while an imaginative soundscape supplies the real chill. Notably, the horror is largely suggested rather than shown - a restraint that proves a strength. By leaving much to the imagination, the production conjures dread more effectively than explicit spectacle could, making the conclusion land with grisly force. At its core, the play probes the darker undercurrents of relationships - co-dependence, coercive control, jealousy - and the unsettling truth that monstrous acts can lurk behind ordinary facades. The script remains tight and punchy, ratcheting tension through well-timed reveals, including Billy’s murky past and the arrival of an unexpected third party. There are genuine laugh-out-loud moments too, particularly in the absurd “would you rather” scenarios the couple invent to defuse mounting tension. Smart, unsettling, and thoroughly entertaining, WEREWOLF SIGHTED IN PORT TALBOT keeps its audience deliciously off-balance while trusting them to draw their own conclusions - a juicy morsel of fringe theatre worth savouring. Box Office: https://weareoldred.co.uk/whats-on/werewolf-sighted-in-port-talbot/ Cast: Billy - Andy Sellers Ffion - Lucy Harvard Kat - Jenny Wall Reviewer: @anniesrpower

‘The Starmerite MP: weak-willed and easily suggestible.’ ★★★ A one man play about a new Member of Parliament from the 2024 intake, The Red Prince, has a lot going for it. It has a splendid virtuoso performance from Benjamin May as Craig Kitman MP, who is an (almost) sympathetic and believable protagonist, and Tim Dawson’s script offers some witty lines. But it lacks two important things. It doesn’t have a story. And it doesn’t have any politics. Not, I rush to add, that a piece of theatre must have politics; but a play about the trials and tribulations of an MP in the present parliament in which politics hardly gets a mention seems to me a very odd fish. When it started I thought we were in for a theatrical treat. As the lights came up, director Susan Nickson has Kitman bothered and besieged by beeps and insistent rings from his phone and his laptop. In the middle of the cacophony, May looked every inch the jaded, miserable new MP of the sort you only get when there’s a landslide victory for one party. Too sensitive to survive long in politics, in normal times he would have fought one election in a hopeless seat and then found a more congenial way of earning a living. For the next little while, there was plenty to hold the attention. We start to care about Kitman, a public school product parachuted into a supposedly unwinnable northern constituency who now finds himself lonely and miserable in Westminster, and describes himself as “weak willed and easily suggestible.” And there are plenty of good one-liners. “House of Commons whisky. Retails at £30 a bottle. This one’s signed buy Rishi Sunak so about £5.” Some of them are rather contrived. Kitman apparently wrote a children’s book once, almost certainly only so that he can add: “In the present climate it’s not pervy enough.” And the political ones consist of a few weak jabs at yesterday’s political figures: George Osborne, Tony Blair, Peter Mandelson, Alastair Campbell. To be fair, Rachel Reeves is also there, though the line about her is a bit cheap: “Very good at her job if it wasn’t for the numbers.” But the problem is that the play didn’t go anywhere in particular. Lots of plot lines are hinted at, nut none are developed. We never quite understood why Kitman’s despair is so complete, or what he is going to do with it. All right, so he’s getting a divorce, he’s having a series of flirty lunches with a female Tory MP, he’s visiting a sex worker but suffering from erectile disfunction. But we wait in vain for a central thread, for all that to be brought together in a story. I have an idea there’s a rather good play in Tim Dawson’s mind. But he hasn’t quite written it yet. THE RED PRINCE By Tim Dawson at The Lion and Unicorn Theatre, 24 February to 7 March 2026 BOX OFFICE thelionandunicorntheatre.com/whats-on Cast Benjamin May Creatives Writer Tim Dawson Producer Nice New Tie Director Susan Nickson