We sat down for a quick chat with Lucy Mynard & Emma Wallace about their latest project, UNLIKELY: IN A BUILDING WITH A BROKEN LIFT, a DIPPY EGG THEATRE production presented at Barons Court Theatre
Unlikely began with a successful run at GrimFest. What first sparked the idea for this story, and how has it evolved since that earlier outing?
We began our theatre company and show as part of our final-year drama school dissertation. From the start, we wanted to explore fiery feminist characters who didn’t feel restricted by the “bounds” often placed on us during training. Our original idea was a naturalistic piece about two roommates discussing feminist issues, but we quickly realised it didn’t reflect how we actually interacted as friends and women. Instead, we leaned into our shared strengths: comedic physicality and a love of music. This shifted the piece toward clowning and slapstick, layered with our favourite 80s club classics. The process felt more authentic to our dynamic and energy on stage. Since then, we’ve continued asking ourselves, “Well, why not?”—constantly challenging how we can push the story further and explore new ways of telling it through movement, humour, music, and bold theatrical choices.
The play opens with such a simple premise – two strangers in a flat during a storm – but it quickly becomes something more unsettling. How did you develop that tonal shift?
We never originally imagined our first show within the horror genre, but as the piece developed, it began to feel like the perfect fit. Horror is a world where anything can happen—characters return from the dead moments after being brutally murdered—so it naturally allowed our movement to be bold and unexpected. It’s also an incredibly visual genre. When working physically, we found it helpful to draw on recognisable imagery and tableaux. From Scream to Psycho, many of these moments are instantly identifiable, even to audiences unfamiliar with horror. We were also excited by the rarity of horror comedy on stage. During drama school, physical theatre often meant simple slapstick; horror was never something we explored. After three years of training, it felt refreshing to experiment with something unfamiliar—an area of theatre-making that felt open, playful, and full of possibilities.
Writing as a duo can be an intimate and challenging process. How do you divide the work, and where do your creative instincts naturally meet?
From the start, we never felt the need to divide the work. Although we approach things differently, that contrast helps us collaborate. Emma tends to write everything down and brings a more academic mindset, which is useful for organising ideas and keeping track of details. Lucy, on the other hand, is highly visual and practical, focusing on aesthetics and the bigger picture. Having one of us focused on detail while the other explores bold ideas creates a strong balance. Most writing sessions quickly moved onto our feet, where we discussed and physically tried out ideas. The process became largely devised. Working together rarely felt difficult because we shared one rule: if we weren’t enjoying the process, what was the point? As best friends, we could laugh at ourselves, especially late at night after rehearsals, creating wild plot twists to remixes of “Thriller.”
Emma, Sam is described as relentlessly pleasant with a chilling edge. How did you find that balance in performance?
To find that balance, I leaned into what I knew—or what drama school often labelled as my “type.” I was frequently cast as the sweet, charming goody-two-shoes, probably because I was a fresh, wide-eyed American who moved to Liverpool at 18 to train. I used that familiar pleasantness as Sam’s baseline, playing her with calm, polite physicality that felt almost normal beside Lucy’s exaggerated character and makeup. The chilling edge came from disrupting that calm. Moments would suddenly shift through music or movement—one second Sam is walking quietly, the next she’s break-dancing or fighting in a Sherlock Holmes costume. Those unexpected bursts revealed something darker beneath the surface. The more seriously Sam took herself, the funnier it became. That contrast—between sincere sweetness and unpredictable intensity—helped create a character who feels relentlessly pleasant, but slightly unsettling.
Lucy, Georgia presents as a deadpan goth, but there’s clearly more going on beneath the surface. How did you approach revealing her layers?
I found it helpful to lean into deadpan moments, especially when my character needed to stay composed in front of others. But at the end of the day, even this seemingly “heartless” goth is still human. When it felt right to let emotion slip through—jealousy, frustration, vulnerability—it was easy to connect to those feelings truthfully. The contrast between those emotions and my exaggerated look, with the wig and heavy makeup, made it even more fun to play. Like Emma mentioned, having such an opposite character beside me on stage helped reveal those layers. When my character reacted in a similar emotional way to Sam, it clashed with how I appeared externally and heightened the comedy. Playing the truth of a moment, regardless of appearance, often creates the biggest laughs. Blending horror-goth stereotypes with genuine emotion gave the character depth and made the twists even more satisfying.
The play has been described as surreal and thrilling. What kind of atmosphere are you hoping audiences feel as they sit in that cramped flat with you?
From the start, we want the audience to lean into the idea that anything is possible. The plot becomes a vessel for exploring playful and inventive movement on stage. Because the show takes place in a small, intimate venue, we embrace that closeness by acknowledging the audience and inviting them into our world. Most importantly, we want them to have fun. Horror comedy thrives on that balance—just like great horror films, where humour often sits between the jump scares. People don’t watch Scream simply to feel miserable; they go for the excitement, the twists, and the fun of discovering who Ghostface is. We hope to offer that same sense of enjoyment and surprise. For an hour, audiences can drop expectations and simply enjoy the ride. Our energy and playfulness guide the show, as we jump rapidly from one plot twist to the next.