Month: March 2026

As the audience enters the room, Brooke (Victoria Broom) is already on stage, seated alone on her couch with her head in her hands, the lighting isolating her in a moment of quiet distress. Before a word is spoken, it is clear that something is wrong, and that whatever has brought Brooke to this moment will unfold over the course of the evening.

The action soon shifts to a pub where Brooke reunites with four friends she met at university: DJ (Emily Cordell), Moira (Lottie Bell), Kelli (Katie Hamilton), and Blake (Violet Grace Fink). What Brooke believes to be a long-overdue catch-up carries a quieter motive for the others. 

Each character occupies a clear place within the group dynamic. DJ brings an awkward sincerity to conversations; Kelli is the polished professional who tries to keep things orderly; and Blake arrives openly irritated with Brooke. These distinctions are reinforced through costume: DJ’s darker, emo aesthetic contrasts with Kelli’s sharp suit, Blake’s sleek black jumpsuit projects a guarded confidence, while Brooke’s jeans and Converse keep her visually disarmed. Moira, who appears later in the play, is dressed in relaxed sporty attire, presenting an easy, laid-back exterior.

The stage is split in two, with the pub table on one side and a living room on the other where flashbacks unfold. The dual spaces allow past and present to coexist on stage, visually reinforcing how memory intrudes on the present moment.

Running parallel to the reunion is a highly publicised celebrity domestic abuse trial, clearly echoing the 2022 media spectacle of the Depp–Heard case. As the friends debate the credibility of the alleged victim while awaiting the verdict, their own experiences begin to surface, shaping their views on relationships and abuse.

This is where When We Were Us is most ambitious, but also where it occasionally falters. The play tackles coercive relationships and the difficulty of recognising harm within intimate partnerships, a subject still rarely explored in portrayals of lesbian relationships on stage. In that sense, the intention is welcome. However, the script often delivers its message with a heavy hand. Several flashback sequences feel less like dramatic moments than illustrative examples, at times resembling training scenarios rather than organic theatre. The result is a work that frequently states its themes outright instead of allowing them to emerge more subtly through character and action.

The cast nonetheless grounds the material with committed performances. Victoria Broom anchors the play with a restrained portrayal of Brooke’s growing emotional strain. Emily Cordell captures DJ’s hesitant warmth, while Katie Hamilton’s Kelli initially appears slightly stiff before settling into the character’s controlled professionalism. Violet Grace Fink brings energy to Blake, balancing sharpness with flashes of vulnerability. 

Curiously, the play concludes with an extended tirade from Moira rather than centering the voice of Brooke or her friends. Dramaturgically, this choice feels somewhat unbalanced. After spending the evening building empathy for Brooke and the support network around her, ending on the abuser’s monologue is a surprising shift in focus that leaves the emotional weight of the story in an unusual place. Moira herself appears comparatively late in the play, and her presence sometimes feels less like a necessary dramatic counterpoint and more like a device used to explicitly demonstrate the abusive dynamics at the centre of the story. Much of what her scenes convey might arguably have been communicated just as effectively, and with greater nuance, through Brooke and the group’s perspective, rather than being played out so directly on stage.

Tonally, the production feels distinctly millennial in its references, styling and soundtrack. At times this familiarity edges towards cringe, though it also carries a certain charm.

Jade Winters’ When We Were Us is ultimately a sincere production with a clear intention. Its attempt to foreground coercive dynamics within a queer relationship is important, particularly given how rarely such stories are staged. Yet the play’s tendency toward overt messaging means its themes often feel delivered rather than discovered. Even so, the strength of the performances and the relevance of the subject ensure it remains a thoughtful, relevant and engaging, if uneven, piece of theatre.

When We Were Us runs until Saturday 14th March at Brockley Jack Studio Theatre, London. 

Iron Fantasy is a play about female strength. Written and performed by Shamira Turner and Eugenie Pastor, it is a semi-autobiographical narrative that blends real life with fiction, alongside a great soundtrack composed of electronic beats, live flute, autoharp and singing. Even writing that list makes me feel a wave of awe at these two performers, who have created a production that is both hilarious and emotionally brave.

The concept is Turner and Pastor’s pursuit of physical strength, pumping iron, attending fight choreography classes and downing raw eggs (a memorable moment.) They rush from workout to workout, expounding on their experiences through quickfire comedic poetry. They put on clownish outfits, throw themselves into each new move, and pause to reflect on their girlish heroine, Xena, Warrior Princess. Within the chaos of props, brightly coloured costumes, quick asides and mock-heroic songs, questions of depth and urgency arise. 

Amidst the clownish comedy, these questions hit the audience with even greater force. Why do these women want to be strong? Is it purely for the physical satisfaction of getting stronger, gaining muscle? Or is it for deeper, and more painful reasons? 

The play addresses the violence, and/or threat of it, that women face daily, touching on it gently first. Towards the end the painful heart of the story is reached, a meditation on how to come to terms with grief and abuse. The cartoonish fantasy of stereotypes of female strength begin to interplay with a sense of real emotional strength from two immensely powerful women. And even more movingly, powerful women who are also normal, recognizable, and middle aged, a time of life where, as they explore in the play, women’s power often goes unrecognized. 

Pastor and Turner have been astute in their use of meta-theatricality within their writing. The performers integrate the process of creating the play within the finished product, including the interviews about strength they conducted as research and references to the difficulties they experienced in trying to put on a play in the current theatrical climate. The play grows as it progresses beyond the moment of performance, drawing the audience both into the past of its creation and the future where it has done its work as catharsis for both audience and performer. It is immensely hopeful in its realization of the power of theatre to process experience. An explosion of colour, sound and surprise, the way this piece addresses trauma is both extremely clever and completely without artifice. It isn’t one to miss.

The show runs until the 21^st March 2026 at Soho Theatre. The ticket link can be found here: https://sohotheatre.com/events/iron-fantasy/

Kid Sister, written by Owen Lloyd Richards and directed by Adam Laboda, offers a poignant yet uneven glimpse into the Welsh social care system. Although rooted in its Welsh setting, the play’s themes of belonging, abandonment and family identity resonate far beyond it. 

At its centre is the relationship between two sisters, Shell waiting seventeen years to reunite with her sister Nat, separated from her by the care system. As Nat finally turns eighteen, Shell’s hopes collide with the realities of a system in which people too often get left behind. The production’s emotional core lies in its exploration of chosen family and the long shadow of abandonment. Geri McNamara delivers the standout performance as Shell, capturing the prickly defences of a young woman hardened by a world that has only ever let her down. McNamara balances Shell’s hostility with biting wit and flashes of vulnerability that feel entirely genuine. Ceri Gifford and Mark Rush support as the battle-worn foster carer and an idealistic social worker respectively. However, several pivotal scenes fall short of the emotional intensity needed to fully carry the play’s heavier themes.

Where the play truly shines is in its humour. Richards demonstrates a sharp ear for dialogue, creating exchanges that feel natural while still landing well-timed comedic moments. One standout scene sees all four characters on stage at once, trying desperately to avoid each other. What follows is a carefully choreographed sequence of near-misses and frantic movement around the space, as entrances and exits are timed to keep the characters from crossing paths. The rising tension blends seamlessly with energetic farce.

The production struggles most in its staging and technical choices. Much of the dialogue is delivered while the actors are seated, which, combined with the theatre’s layout, leaves sections of the audience straining to see key moments pulling focus away from the story. The use of rock and pop anthems between scenes works well in capturing the characters’ internal energy, but background radio and music during certain scenes sometimes distracts from the dialogue rather than enhancing it.

Kid Sister is a play with a big heart and a sharp sense of humour. Geri McNamara’s compelling performance and Richards’ witty script make it engaging to watch, but the production is held back by staging issues and a lack of emotional weight in its climactic moments. It’s a thoughtful piece that shines a light on vital social issues, even if it does not fully realise its potential.

Kid Sister runs until March 21^st at The Bread and Roses Theatre, Clapham.