LONDON, UK – October 2025 – Acclaimed BBC NC writer and performer Emma Zadow will make her West End debut on 7th November at 2pm with a new dark comedy Swans Are Arseholes, staged at the historic Criterion Theatre, Piccadilly Circus. Produced by BS* Productions, the company founded by actor-producer Benjamin Sumrie, this one-off performance promises to provoke, entertain, and challenge audiences with its razor-sharp look at identity, AI, and online chaos.
- Swans Are Arseholes takes on deepfakes and digital identity. What drew you to explore such an unnervingly modern crisis through the lens of absurdist comedy?
Comedy is one of the most dynamic but also most fun ways for audiences to explore these issues at the theatre. Within a very small amount of time, AI and the concept of deep fakes has gone from absurd to being very very real. Laughing at them only a few years ago, and now, there are laws being passed that forbid AI actresses in California. For me, the world is an absurd place right now and comedy, historically, has been the first point of call for writers to openly critique, question and make light of things happening right now.
- How did writing and performing in your own work shape your understanding of vulnerability and control, both as an artist and as a character navigating digital violation?
Creating your own work as an actor puts you in the driving seat, and that requires a certain level of self-awareness, no doubt. But what is perhaps more important arguably, is a bond of trust an artist must have in their collaborators. Without complete trust, collaboration can be hard to navigate. Even in one person shows of an actor/writer, there is still a team behind that visibly central figure. To construct a ‘character’ on stage is not dissimilar to constructing one online and I suppose it would be interesting to compare and contrast that.
- The play blurs lines between reality, performance, and technology. How do you see theatre uniquely equipped to confront the anxieties of the algorithm age?
In a world ruled by algorithms, theatre feels radical. It’s live, unpredictable, and deeply human. Everything our digital lives often aren’t. While apps track our habits and feeds curate what we see, theatre invites us into a shared space where nothing is filtered or optimized. When the lines blur between reality, performance, and tech, theatre leans into the confusion. It doesn’t try to compete with the speed of the internet. It slows us down, makes us feel, and asks us to pay attention. That’s powerful. In the face of data-driven identities and endless scrolling, theatre reminds us we’re more than users. We’re bodies, voices, stories. It becomes a place to confront the weirdness of living in a world shaped by code, together. And maybe that’s the point? It gives us back a bit of control, or at least the space to question who really has it.
- Having developed Swans Are Arseholes through the Criterion Theatre Writers Group, how did that process influence its tone, structure, or sense of risk?
Developing Swans Are Arseholes through the Criterion Theatre Writers Group allowed the play to take bold, necessary risks. It gave me space to explore formally and emotionally mess, without needing to soften its edges. That freedom deeply shaped the tone: sharp, unapologetic, and full of contradiction. The group championed instinct over polish, which meant I could write characters who are raw, furious, hilarious, and falling apart without forcing a tidy resolution. Structurally, it opened up permission to experiment with time, rhythm, and interruption, letting the story unfold in a way that felt true to its chaos. It was a rare process that didn’t ask the work or its characters to behave, but instead trusted them to be loud, complex, and alive. That trust was everything. It helped the play find its teeth and its voice.
- You’ve said your work often explores class, gender, and identity. How do those threads evolve or collide within the chaos of this digital scandal?
Class, gender, and identity don’t disappear online. They collide, loudly. In a digital scandal, the same old power structures play out under new, faster lights. Who gets believed? Who’s forgiven? Who’s erased? Often, it’s tied to privilege. A working-class voice is called aggressive. A woman is punished for speaking too much…or not enough. Identity becomes something you perform, then get punished for performing. The internet promises freedom, but often it’s just another stage with invisible rules and louder consequences. I’m drawn to that noise, you know? The chaos where power hides in plain sight. My work tries to hold those contradictions: visibility versus erasure, performance versus truth. Because surviving online isn’t just about being seen. It’s about who’s allowed to speak without being broken apart for it.
- This West End debut marks a major milestone. What kind of conversations or discomfort do you hope audiences carry with them when the curtain falls?
Writing for the theatre means writing for an audience. I hope they leave a little unsettled? Laughing, yes, but with that knot in the chest you can’t quite name. Swans Are Arseholes might wear its chaos like a badge, but underneath the mess is something tender and furious. I want people to walk away thinking about the performances we all put on just to survive the day. Who gets to be angry? Who’s allowed to unravel without consequence? It’s about beauty, control, violence, and the stories we’re told to make ourselves small. So if the audience leaves questioning why certain bodies on stage still feel like a disruption or why they laughed when they maybe shouldn’t have then good. Let the discomfort stay with them on the tube ride home. That’s where the real work starts!