IN CONVERSATION WITH: Suzann McLean


Theatre Peckham announces a diverse community-curated programme for Peckham Fringe running from 1 May to 6 June 2025. A Youngish Perspective holds this exclusive dialogue with Suzann McLean MBE, the artistic director of Theatre Peckham.


What was the initial vision for the Peckham Fringe, and how closely does it align with what the festival has become today?

The initial vision for Peckham Fringe was to create a platform that breaks down barriers for artists, allowing them to showcase their work without the traditional constraints often faced in the theatre industry. This vision aligns closely with what the festival is today, a vibrant, community-curated event that amplifies diverse voices and nurtures emerging talent. As we enter our fourth year, we continue to prioritise accessibility and representation, ensuring that the festival remains a true reflection of the rich artistic landscape of our community.

What do you think makes Peckham such a unique and exciting place for creative events like the Peckham Fringe?

That’s simple, it’s because of its rich diversity and the strong sense of community that thrives here. The area has a fusion of cultures, and that naturally creates space for stories, experiences, and artistic expressions to come together in a way that sparks excitement and originality. It’s also an area that inspires artists to explore themes that resonate with local audiences, making every performance feel reflective of a shared experience. This supportive atmosphere encourages collaboration and creativity, making Peckham the perfect backdrop for a festival that celebrates all forms of art. 

What is the process for selecting performers, artists, and acts for the Peckham Fringe?

The selection process for Peckham Fringe is deeply rooted in community involvement. Our dedicated Ambassadors, who are local community members, play a crucial role in curating the festival each year. They bring diverse perspectives and insights that shape an ambitious programme. We place a strong emphasis on inclusivity and representation, ensuring that a wide range of voices, particularly those that are often underrepresented, are highlighted and celebrated throughout the festival. This approach ensures a vibrant and diverse programme that reflects the spirit of Peckham.

Do you have any memorable stories or experiences from previous editions of the Peckham Fringe that stand out?

There are countless memorable stories, witnessing artists grow and evolve reinforces the impact the festival has on both performers and audiences. One of my most memorable experiences from previous editions of Peckham Fringe was directing Sunny Side Up by David Alade during our very first fringe festival. This production showcased the incredible writing and talent of a local actor who had come through our Young Peckham actor training programme. David’s powerful story about identity, the loss of a parent, and the complexities of masculinity struck a deep chord with audiences, sparking important conversations. The response was so overwhelming that the play had a further run, later followed by a transfer to Soho Theatre. To this day, many artists who apply to Peckham Fringe say that they were inspired to apply because this play changed what they thought theatre was and can be. 

Another standout moment was the success of I Love Acting but F*** this Industry by Faisal Dacosta and Raphel Famotibe. This play captured the hearts of many, drawing in large audiences and receiving rave reviews. The energy in the theatre during each performance was electric because it spoke to every actor and every creative who is navigating their way in this industry. As people laughed, reflected, and engaged with the themes they felt less alone in their struggles and empower to make a change. There was real authenticity in this play and experiences that the writers and cast shared exemplified the spirit of Peckham Fringe, creating a platform for powerful storytelling that resonates with our community.

What are your goals for the future of the Peckham Fringe, and how do you see it growing or evolving in the coming years?

This year, we’ve expanded into Canada Water Theatre, which marks a significant milestone for us. Looking forward, my main goal for Peckham Fringe is to continue growing while staying true to our roots, creating a platform that celebrates diverse forms of performance art. I want to ensure that the festival remains responsive, always adapting and evolving to the changing needs of the local community. As we move into the future, I envision Peckham Fringe becoming an even more integral part of Southwark’s cultural fabric, connecting people, sparking creativity, and showcasing the rich variety of talent that London has to offer. The possibilities are exciting, and I believe that with each year, we’ll continue to expand our impact within the wider arts sector.

For tickets and more info of Peckham Fringe, please visit https://www.theatrepeckham.co.uk/peckham-fringe-2025-shows-events/

REVIEW:Tim Rice-My Life in Musicals- I Know Him So Well


Rating: 5 out of 5.

A peek behind the curtain with the one-of-a-kind storyteller.


Tim Rice is one of the most famous lyricists ever and definitely a household name for musical fans. Everyone will have their favourite show or film that he contributed to (mine being Evita). It was difficult to know what to expect from this evening of entertainment, but it certainly didn’t disappoint. A timeline of his 60-year career full of the hit songs and stories behind them.

Opening with a medley from Jospeh and The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, the talented performers created a relaxed atmosphere from the start, with the audience knowing that they were in good hands. The obvious song choices featured throughout, but also a handful of more obscure surprises (for example, Heaven On Their Minds, the opening song from Jesus Christ Superstar) which was refreshing. The songs featured from Tim Rice’s biblical masterpiece made the show perfect viewing for Easter Sunday. There were some songs that I was completely unfamiliar with and a few pop songs that I hadn’t known were written by Tim Rice. I was disappointed not to hear any of Che’s songs from Evita performed, but witnessing A Winter’s Tale by David Essex made up for this.

All four vocalists did these iconic songs justice whilst allowing themselves to have fun and break character now and then. Everyone got their moment to shine, sticking to more or less traditional arrangements and not just singing each song together for the sake of it. With none of the elaborate costumes, set or choreography, it was still an engaging concert. The two female performers sparkled, with plenty of lighting arrangements and a lively swaying movement. Shonagh Daly stood out during her solos as Eva Peron. Sandy Grigelis went all-out whenever he took the stage, fully embodying the self-obsessed actor personality. Patrick Smyth’s voice was perfect for Chess’s Anthem but had me longing for Sandy during a particularly boring rendition of One Night in Bangkok. Katie Brill, although not mentioned in the brochure, deserves high praise indeed for making all her different parts sound equally beautiful.

I almost felt a bit starstruck to share a room with the Tim Rice and it is a daunting task to critique this living legend. Fortunately, I have nothing bad to say. A completely enthralling narrator, Tim Rice is the perfect balance of witty and smug. He wasn’t ashamed to take pride in and display some of his many awards on stage, representing his EGOT status. The audience even got the privilege of hearing Tim Rice’s singing voice as he performed the original version of I Don’t Know How to Love Him as it was before the concept of Jesus Christ Superstar and the lyrics being scrapped. It was a highly informative but extremely easy-going night out.

REVIEW: A PRACTICAL GUIDE ON HOW TO SAVE THE WORLD WHEN NO ONE F***ING ELSE IS


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A comforting meditation on what it means to inherit a dying world.


Nicole Latchana’s ‘A Practical Guide on How to Save the World When No One F***ing Else Is’ (shortened to ‘A Practical Guide’) is Tara Young Company’s latest production. Spawned from a collaborative, devising process and written in just four weeks, the play examines how it feels to be a young person living in the climate crisis, navigating the weight of political activism and one’s own (inter)personal conflicts. The play is a veritable patchwork of 21st Century, Gen Z anxieties, as a climate change action group are left to decide on the best way to tackle the climate crisis. Left by their nihilistic leader, Jeff, often mentioned but never seen, his protégés rebel against his apathetic advice, which is to stop caring because the world is burning anyway.

The play starts with a moment of meditative reflection, with a vast looming coloured cube hanging down, innovatively designed by Alys Whitehead paired perfectly with the eerie, atmospheric noises designed by Conrad Kira.

The ensemble of distinctive characters, performed thoughtfully and compellingly by the young company, have to reconcile their feelings of voicelessness and hopelessness with their faith that they can build a better world. Though some characters have a stronger arc than others, the play becomes a comforting meditation on what it means to inherit a dying world, and the importance of care and community.

The story’s comprehensive approach to the stresses and conflicts of 21st century climate action is perhaps both its merit and its weakness. The play explores a plethora of reasons why young people are experiencing existential dread, political apathy and are lacking community. The administrative, financial and political obstacles of effective climate action are shown in the group’s struggle to keep their meeting space. We also see themes touching on the loneliness of capitalism, the moral conflicts of where to place your energy and attention, the exhaustion of wading through intellectualised discourse, the battle against nihilism, the need to secure your own economic future amidst rising rent prices, the implications of protest for people of colour and more. All of these paths were impressively and authentically explored, mounting to a comprehensive picture of young people’s overwhelm.

However, exploring the inner minds of so many characters meant that it was at points difficult to chart a central conflict, and made the play feel unfocused at points. In exploring some of these themes so cohesively, each issue slightly lost its potency.

Despite this, the play’s message of the importance of care and community emerges beautifully, especially in its dynamic, punchy transitions, directed by Gavin Joseph, which create a different plane of theatrical reality. The movement, directed by Mateus Daniel, and the united sense of ensemble crafts a space where under-explored emotions and unarticulated grievances are shared with the audience, helping us understand the importance of having an outlet.

The play was at its strongest when the subtext exposed the characters and their emotional struggles, showing interpersonal dynamics. For example, a non-verbal scene in which the comedic character Gagan has an emotional breakdown was very powerful. Gurjot Dhaliwal gave a commendable, nuanced portrayal of Gagan, and was a standout performer.

‘A Practical Guide’ ends on a galvanising note, equipping us with information and a renewed sense that it is possible to build a better world – a vital message in today’s culture. The play gave an important reminder that in the practicality of saving the world, we cannot neglect our communities, each other or our emotional selves. It showcased the balming effect of feeling like you are part of something bigger than yourself. This is, incidentally, also what it felt like to watch the play.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Samuel Rees and Gabriele Uboldi

Lessons On Revolution tells a story about change, how it happens and how we talk about it. In 1968 at London School of Economics, three thousand students occupy a lecture hall, demanding the university cut ties with apartheid-era Rhodesia. Tensions escalate as the students fight for radical change while the administration pushes back. The world watches, waiting to see who will blink first. We sat down with writer Samuel Rees and Gabriele Uboldi to discuss their upcoming play.


What was it about the events at London School of Economics nearly sixty years ago that inspired you to create this work?

SAM: In 1968, 3000 activists occupied LSE in the biggest act of protest in a generation. We wanted to write about this because LSE was a stone’s throw from our flat, and localism is such a huge part of the piece-how are we bound to others through space and time? On top of this, the protests link LSE to a global struggle, implicating both apartheid South Africa and the Vietnam War. It was a fascinating example of how to consider history in the micro and the macro.

The play intertwines two different time periods – 1968 and 2024. What inspired you to connect these two eras?

SAM: As said, we felt a personal connection through our own sense of place to what happened at LSE. We then use this to think about how we might apply their example of radical action in our own lives. As so many of these struggles persist today, around injustice and inequality, we wanted to look at a time when people had an aspiration for a better future, and ask: how can these voices from the past give us hope?

What motivated you to write these two specific characters? How do they represent different facets of the modern fight for social justice?

GABRIELE: Sam and I play ourselves on stage. We don’t portray ourselves as great activists, but we do talk about a tough time in our lives when we looked at radical ideas of the past because our present seemed too challenging. The play is about the moment we felt an urgent need to roll our sleeves up and think about how we could engage in a broader fight about social justice. I hope this can empower our audiences to become activists themselves!

Jermyn Street Theatre holds personal value to you as a previous young producer. How does it feel knowing your work will be performed in this theatre? How does it feel to bring the production to London, where the story all began? 

GABRIELE: It’s so exciting to come back to Jermyn Street Theatre as an artist. This theatre is such a special place – it’s run by a small, ambitious team who really care about their artists and I can’t wait to be supported by my former colleagues in my creative journey!

Lessons on Revolution is a story about London and it feels important to bring it back to the centre of town, just a stone’s throw away from LSE. The show is about who’s got the right to take up space – whether that’s through an occupation of a university, or by telling a story on stage. I feel so privileged to be able to perform in the centre of a city where it can sometimes feel impossible to carve out space.

What do you feel is the most important lesson about revolution that you’d like the audience to take away?

GABRIELE: What Sam and I discovered through the play is that all social change begins with an act of imagination. In order to change the world you need to be able to imagine a reality that’s better than our current one, and I think this is exactly the role of theatre: enabling audiences to have the courage to think that a different world is possible. This is what I’d like our audiences to take away from the show – through a collective act of imagination in a theatre, we can think about how to work towards a better future.

Lessons On Revolution by Samuel Rees and Gabriele Uboldi runs at Jermyn Street Theatre from 28 April to 3 May.  For more information and to book tickets – http://www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk/

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Alexandra Keddie


Starring Australian actor and comedian Alexandra Keddie – also an AACTA and AWG nominated writer – I See Me & Meryl Streep is a journey through the life of Meryl Streep told through the eyes of her biggest fan, a misfit also named Meryl, in a hilarious love letter to awkward youth and the beauty of big dreams. A Youngish Perspective holds this exclusive conversation with Alex.


What first inspired you to create I See Me & Meryl Streep? Was there a particular moment that sparked the idea?

    Well, I was a very cocky 23 year old who thought she was talented enough to impersonate the greatest actress of all time. I then spent a full year writing it and working on the impersonations every day. 10 years since the first production and I think I’ve almost perfected them! Basically I wasn’t working as an actor and I got sick of hearing myself complain about it. I’d had some friends do solo shows and again, cocky kid over here thought she could give it a crack! Being an only child is a fast track to self-belief. 

    What’s your absolute favorite Meryl Streep performance to impersonate, and which is the most challenging?

      Probably Florence Foster Jenkins, because I just get to sing really badly and make a total fool of myself. The hardest is absolutely The Devil Wears Prada, I do THE cerulean monologue and the expectations are so so high. You cannot mess that one up because everyone knows it and will absolutely correct you if you get it wrong!

      The show is celebrating its 10th anniversary. Looking back, how has it evolved over the years? Are there elements you’ve updated or added for this London run?

        I have rewritten this show every time I’ve done it. I’d never written anything when I first made the show and since then I’ve actually learned how to structure a show and create a character arc. I play a 17 year old in the show and when I first performed it, I was still so close to that age and that feeling of teenage awkwardness. I think I was still embarrassed about all my quirks and obsessions and how much of a little weirdo I was. But now, 17 was nearly half my life ago, and the show has become a lot more loving and satirical. I don’t think I knew what I had made a comment on when I first wrote it, but now I have realised I wrote this show to help my teenage self feel okay about being such a little loser Meryl Streep die-hard. I love that teenage girl and how much she obsessed over things. It’s so nice to love something with all your heart. If boys can love football, how come I can’t love Meryl Streep. 

        You’re not only starring in the show but also wrote it. How does wearing both hats influence your approach to performing?

          There’s no one to blame when something doesn’t make sense! 

          London audiences have a huge love for both theatre and Meryl Streep – what are you most excited for them to experience?

            An hour of unapologetic chaotic Meryl Streep love! This is a ‘let your freak flag fly’ kind of show. I hope people leave with a spring in their step, a little more love for their awkward youth and even more love for Meryl Streep.

            For tickets and info please visit https://theotherpalace.co.uk/i-see-me-and-meryl-streep/

            Alexandra Keddie

            Originally from Australia, Alex Keddie is an AACTA, AWG and SPA nominated writer, producer and actor best known for creating and starring in THE HOUSEMATE (ABC) and her solo-stage-show I SEE ME & MERYL STREEP, which has toured Australia in sell-out, critically acclaimed seasons. As an actor, Alex has worked on Channel 10’s OFFSPRING, UTOPIA, HAMISH & ANDY’S TRUE STORIES, THE DR. BLAKE MYSTERIES, DEADLOCH, WHITE FEVER and HAY FEVER (MTC).In 2021 Alex released short form series THE POWER OF THE DREAM as Associate Producer and Creator. She also produced short film YOU, ME & HIM and was the Director’s Assistant on WOODY WOODPECKER 2 (Netflix). In 2022, Alex was the Showrunner Assistant on DEADLOCH (Amazon) and was Executive Producer on ME & HER(PES) which was funded for production by Screen Australia and Wear it Purple and nominated for an AACTA award in 2023.Alex has just completed a placement through Screen Australia’s esteemed Enterprise People program, with Deb Balderstone’s production company at Soapbox Pictures and has a number of projects in development including a comedy series with Celeste Barber. She’ll also probably talk to you at nauseam about her food intolerances, her pets and the work of art that is Mamma Mia. 

            IN CONVERSATION WITH: Alex Stroming

            We sat down for an exclusive with Alex Stroming ahead of T Regina Theatre company’s upcoming production of Scenes with Girls at the Golden Goose Theatre from April 22nd to May 3rd.


            What drew you to Miriam Battye’s Scenes with Girls, and how did you approach adapting it for a new audience? 

            One line got me hooked as a happily single 20-something woman— “If she’s going to ask me to be a bridesmaid or something, I’m going to throw up a fucking kidney”— I had just been a bridesmaid three times in six months (no offense to those couples, I love you all and was so happy to be part of your day)! But the overall message was so relatable. I was so delighted at Miriam Battye’s (MB) imagery and comedy, so intrigued by her unapologetic, quirky characters, and laughing through my confusion. By the end, I was a little catatonic, struck by how accurately she put words to experiences that mirrored my own friendships. She takes the relationships and conflicts that we are taught are not very important (even though they shape us and make us feel so many feelings) and puts them in the spotlight.

            In terms of adapting it for a new audience, there wasn’t much to adapt. The play is already so relatable and brilliant as it is– I think that its recognition was unfairly stunted by the pandemic. Of course now MB has had award-winning success with Succession and Strategic Love Play— Scenes with girls deserves just as much recognition and love. We have just relished digging into the text and MB’s iconic stage directions (“full of internal pyrotechnics, outwardly still”). It’s been a year now since I first picked it up, and I still make new discoveries at every single rehearsal. That is such an exciting and incredible gift!

            The play features 22 short scenes. How did you decide on the pacing and transitions to maintain emotional continuity throughout the performance?

            In terms of pacing, one of the first stage directions of the play is something like “time with Lou and Tosh is like a collective reverie, their conversation dances, they communicate, very, very, very quickly”. Let me tell you, this is MUCH easier said than done, and I am in awe of Hannah, Lyndsey, Eli, and Emilys’ ability to bring this stage direction to life with such playfulness. Without giving too many spoilers, part of the fun of the play is discovering how those 22 short scenes connect; there are a couple of delicious plot twists. There is a little bit of mystery in what happens between the scenes— we have our ideas which inform our choices, but depending on their own experiences, every audience member is going to have a slightly different interpretation. This has been the most fun part of talking to people after they experience it— hearing what they imagined between the lines.

            Were there any lines or scenes that felt especially central to your interpretation of the story? How did you emphasise their importance?

            Two lines come to mind, first when Tosh says “I genuinely think in five to ten years we are going to have several different possible ‘happy’s’” 

            First, the idea that there can, and should, and will be more than one version of “happily ever after”. As a queer woman who’s on the asexuality spectrum, this idea is so meaningful to me— questioning what we mean by “happily ever after,” not only in terms of who we ride off into the sunset with, but whether we must ride off into the sunset at all. What the hell is so great about that sunset anyways?! How much different could life be if we enjoyed every part of the journey, embracing change, instead of chasing an idealized version of “happy” that ultimately is as elusive and unstable as a beam of light? 

            Second, when Lou says “You won’t celebrate this. You won’t, like, pore over this for reasons why you are. That’ll be Significant Relationship’s that’s His. This. This isn’t the story this was just a given. This was all a given.”

            I think that people are starting to understand that it’s an unrealistic/unhealthy expectation for your romanic partner to be your sole support system, that it’s important to seek love and support from many relationships in your life. My platonic friendships have been the most impactful in my life, and not because they have been easy and simple— because they have been painful and difficult at times. Those conflicts have shaped and sharpened me into the person who I am today. This play leans into the depth, vulnerability, intimacy, and intensity of Love, even when there is no sexual attraction involved. It probes at the idea of romanticism and passion in platonic relationships— but specifically, asks us to reflect on which relationships we value in most in our lives, and more importantly, why?

            In terms of emphasizing their importance, I think MB has pretty much done that work for us in her brilliant writing. We only need awareness (of their importance); she makes it easy. 

            How do you think this play resonates with contemporary discussions around gender, autonomy, and the portrayal of women in theatre?

            I feel like I already answered this by accident! In addition to my previous musings, I would just add that it’s important to have representation of women being messy and gross and mean and wrong and politically incorrect and HUMAN. To show that we are capable of making mistakes and that’s not because there’s something wrong with us, it’s because we are people moving through the world and it is impossible to move through the world without causing harm. And trust me, as a recovering perfectionist and chronic people-pleaser, this is a truth I have to swallow at least every two weeks. 

            I think women have less permission to fail than men do, and part of that is inequity in society and part of that is that we don’t give ourselves permission to get back up and keep trying. In chasing perfection, we end up on an endless loop that goes nowhere. And this isn’t just about women/gender (which isn’t binary anyways), it applies to other marginalized groups, underrepresented identities, and raises questions about privilege and society and historical precedence…but that’s a can of worms that I don’t think I have time to open right now—find me in the pub afterwards!

            Do you feel there’s a unique energy or dynamic that emerges when women collaborate on stories about women?

            Unequivocally, yes. But I could be wrong. Come see the play and let me know what you think.

            REVIEW: Rise and Fall


            Rating: 2 out of 5.

            Promising concept but a disappointing execution


            As a fan of both Van Gogh and Rock Musicals, I was excited for, and ultimately let down by The Rise and Fall of Vinnie and Paul, The show charts the tumultuous relationship between painters Vincent Van Gogh and Paul Gauguin as they lived together in Arles in 1888. Before I go further, it is important to note that this musical is still in development, and therefore, is still a work in progress. 

            The highlight of the show was Max Alexander-Taylor’s performance as the erratic and endearing Vinnie. His voice was strong and his commitment to the role was commendable. However, for a show about artists, it engaged surprisingly little with art itself, reducing the Impressionist and Primitivist movements largely to colour. Whilst there was allusion there was no real exploration of the philosophical differences between Van Gogh and Gauguin which caused their fallout. This is perhaps a pretentious complaint but meant throughout the show I was continuously wondering why the show was about these two artists specifically, and meant the show felt shallow. Especially because Gauguin was largely unlikeable. His song about how no woman could understand him was frustrating, not least because he had female contemporaries. Whilst one could see threads of an interesting story exploring the nature of their relationship through a queer lens, they were not pulled out effectively in the hour.

            The musical is reminiscent of hits from the 2010s like ‘Heathers’, ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ and ‘Spring Awakening’. I was surprised that Bastian described the music as ‘Abba for Blokes’, when there seemed to be no trace of the 70s in the musical DNA of the show. The singers’ voices soared, and one can easily see these numbers as audition pieces. Whilst the numbers were catchy, they were not especially distinct and at worst detracted from the dramatic tension of the show. 

            In my mind the show’s issues can be summarised in the number ‘This is my Funeral’, the song where Van Gogh cuts off his ear. Instead of being a moment of payoff, or dramatic tension, it is hugely undercut by a sunglasses-wearing Gauguin singing a largely forgettable pop rock number. It felt more suited to a 30 Rock cutaway gag than a musical that had any empathy towards its subjects. If the show was a dark comedy, this number would have worked, but if it was meant to have any pathos it was unsuccessful. I wonder if it would have been more effective to eschew the song, and to leave the audience uncomfortable with the horror of the action. The following song ‘Wheatfield of Crows’ was excellent, it was effective and balanced, and the audience were encouraged to see and empathise with Van Gogh, and would have been more effective if the previous song had not happened. 

            There were some interesting moments in The Rise and Fall of Vinnie and Pauland it would be interesting to see what a full length version of the show looks like. 

            REVIEW: WAKE


            Rating: 5 out of 5.

            A bold, glittery celebration of life and grief that’ll have you laughing, tearing up, and dancing in your seat


            It’s not often you go to a show and end up dancing in your seat, nearly crying, and watching someone tap dance in leather — but that’s WAKE for you.

            Brought over from Ireland after two sold-out runs in Dublin, WAKE is a mad, messy, joyful celebration of life, death, grief, and everything in between. It’s loud, glittery, full of heart, and really hard to describe — but I’ll give it a go.

            The idea behind the show is pretty simple: it’s based on the Irish wake — the traditional gathering after a funeral — but it flips it on its head. Rather than being sombre or overly sentimental, this is a wake that celebrates transformation, change, and connection. It mixes old traditions with club culture, so you’ve got traditional Irish music and céilí dancing one minute, and aerial silks, breakdancing and big anthemic DJ sets the next. It sounds chaotic (and it is a bit), but it somehow works.

            Visually it’s stunning. There’s loads going on – aerial performers spinning through the air, gorgeous lighting, someone Riverdancing in full-on clubwear, and even moments of comedy and improv that give it a proper sense of spontaneity. It never stays in one lane for long, which I liked – you never really knew what was coming next.

            What really stood out to me though, was how it handled the heavier themes. Even with all the madness, it still finds space to talk about grief, love, chosen family, and identity. It’s got this strong emotional core that gives the whole thing meaning, and you can tell how much care has gone into creating something that feels genuinely inclusive and heartfelt. It’s definitely got a queer spirit running through it, and there’s a real sense of joy and freedom in how it all comes together.

            There’s also moments of audience interaction — not in a cringey way, but in a way that makes you feel like you’re part of something. It doesn’t feel like performers up there and audience down here — it’s more like a shared experience, which I suppose is very in keeping with the whole “wake” theme. Community, connection, all of that.

            The cast were honestly brilliant. Such a mix of skills — dancers, musicians, poets, acrobats — all clearly giving it their all, and the energy didn’t dip once. The live music was gorgeous too, from the more stripped-back folk moments to the full-on ravey bits that had the whole theatre buzzing. I’ve genuinely not seen a show quite like it.

            If I’m being picky, the first few minutes really caught me off guard — not because they were over the top, but because they were unexpectedly sombre. It was actually the saddest part of the show. Quiet, reflective, and heavy with grief, it felt like a proper funeral moment — that raw, gut-punch feeling of loss before anything else. But as the show went on, that sadness slowly started to lift. Bit by bit, it shifted into something more joyful and celebratory, which made the whole journey feel really moving and real. It mirrored how grief can change shape over time — never fully gone, but softened by connection and joy.

            Overall, WAKE is one of those shows that doesn’t try to be neat or polished — and that’s kind of the point. It’s about messiness, chaos, celebration, and the weird beauty that comes with all of that. You come out of it feeling uplifted, moved, and weirdly grateful to be alive. Which, for a show about death, is kind of perfect.

            If you’re after something a bit different — bold, big-hearted, and properly fun — this one’s worth catching.

            REVIEW: Per-Verse


            Rating: 4 out of 5.

            Georgie Wedge makes poetry sexy again in this impressive debut.


            Playing at Riverside Studios in Hammersmith, Georgie Wedge brings her one-woman show Per-Verse for a limited London run after debuting at the Edinburgh Fringe. The thought of another biographic one-hander can cause some to writhe with good reason. Wedge, however, isn’t giving us an evening of warts and all monologues in any old way, no, she does it all through poetry. Now, some may be even more put off at this proposal, but Wedge manages to deliver a short, charming work that breathes new life to the typical Fringey confessional with break-neck poetic punnery.

            Per-Verse is a fast paced romp through an everywoman’s dating life. Beginning at a brunch, Wedge begins to go into performance mode as she regales her gal-pals with her tale of the most recent sexual exploit. She goes into meticulous detail — as is customary at these boozy brunches — with each new discovery unlocking the memory of a past encounter. It’s Inception levels of story building, but Wedge maintains a strong sense of clarity.

            Her poetic delivery becomes more obvious as we delve further into the past, and when rudely interrupted by the voiceover of an uninterested friend, she snaps back to the brunch in a more pedestrian meter. This manner of storytelling is not just a gimmick to get bums on seats at your local fringe festival. It is also an examination of the need we feel to glamourise and romanticise our humdrum lives into something exciting, a performance — especially when bottomless drinks are involved. Wedge often cringes when she is awkward and smirks when she procures the perfect punchline, like her need to perform holds her body hostage.

            Wedge succeeds in never taking herself too seriously in her poetic style: a mix of lofty Rupi Kaur metaphors and speedy John Cooper Clark wordplay, all presented with a sense of referential irony — stereotypical slam tropes are employed for extra comedic effect. What really stands out however is the physicality. Wedge, with just an expression, is able to switch between fuck-boys, STI clinicians, or her many exaggerated alter egos with brisk ease. Her quick asides and wall-breaking eludes to an innate savviness, she is seemingly always thinking on her toes, shooting at the hip with the next zinger.

            We learn this is her first ever show that she’s written, which is quite an impressive feat, it’s a huge amount of detailed material and evidently took a lot of prosaic smarts to make. Georgie Wedge, with Per-Verse, demonstrates her all her canny wit and potential with this endearing piece. I snap my fingers in approval.

            REVIEW: Supersonic Man


            Rating: 3 out of 5.

            “A musical story of love and death through the lens of transhumanism and glitter”


            Supersonic Man is loosely based on the incredible life of Peter Scott Morgan, who not only became part of the first English gay marriage, but also became famous for his bionic journey as he battled Motor Neuron Disease with boundary-breaking scientific experiments. The musical follows protagonist Adam (played by Dylan Aiello) as he charts his own journey with MND with his supportive partner Darryl (played by Dominic Sullivan) and their friends, set in the fabulously flamboyant gay scene of modern day Brighton. 

            Filled to the brim with 18 songs written by Chris Burgess, this show is surprisingly upbeat and full of camp. Adam, an extremely vivacious and confident man receives his untimely diagnosis early on, and it gradually weakens his body. The physicality on display is raw and unflinching from Aiello, so subtly at first and then it consumes him enough to take everything including his voice.  So too is the enthralling acting from his partner. Conflicted and cautious, sensible and devoted; Sullivan was compelling throughout. I felt the show was strongest when they were in scenes alone, whether with dialogue or duet. 

            Alongside Adam’s glitzy ego are the couple’s three friends Ben (played by James Lowrie), Ruth (played by Jude St. James) and Shaz (played by Mali Wen Davies). Whilst all three were strong singers, I found their characters become more one dimensional as the show progressed. All three actors played multiple roles including media executives and medical professionals.

            I wholeheartedly applaud this production for trying such an ambitious and weighty topic. A musical about motor neuron disease is probably a tough sell but this show has such tenderness and heart that I invested fully in Adam’s journey. His relationship with Darryl is essential to the success of the script and I would have loved to see a show just about their full journey as a couple before, during and after the diagnosis.

            I also applaud Burgess for tackling the topic of transhumanism. Again, no mean feat to set it to music and lyrics but it is indeed a relevant subject. Watching Adam be so open to experimentally transforming himself was poignant. I would have liked the medical professionals- constantly trivialised throughout as generic nerdy “boffins”- given more weight as realistic characters. This is particularly ironic given Peter Scott Morgan himself was a scientific powerhouse in his own right and pioneered the field of robotics. To have Adam be so academically detached felt like a missed opportunity. I also would have liked to see this bionic futurism reflected in the music: techno, vaporwave and electronica motifs would fit the theme more than belting jazzy traditional musical theatre. 

            Whilst the vast majority of the score is uplifting, I found the tone of musical confusing. Jaunty numbers would jarringly interrupt heartfelt moments that were not allowed to breathe. It’s like they won’t let you linger on any sadness.  The show is sometimes so hell-bent on projecting positivity that it becomes a hindrance for some of the key, human moments; particularly towards the end as Adam finally succumbs to his own breaking body. 

            Ultimately, this is the tale of two extraordinary men and the journey they make together through unimaginable pain whilst remaining resolute in their optimism and love for each other.