Author: Alexander Pearn

Brenda’s Got A Baby at the New Diorama Theatre is a wild ride that keeps the audience guessing, but not always in the best way. A mix of comedic chaos and serious societal issues, Jessica Hagan’s play, unfortunately, struggles to find a clear identity, much like its protagonist, Ama.

The play kicks off with Ama, played with magnetic energy by Anita-Joy Uwajeh, expressing her desire for motherhood before hitting the big 3-0. The first half, however, feels like a meandering journey through Ama’s relationships and comparisons with her seemingly perfect sister. The crux of the play only begins to emerge after the intermission, leaving the audience wondering why it took so long to reach this point.

Under the direction of Anastasia Osei-Kuffour, the performances are a mix of big, broad, and at times, goofy. The characters, despite their quirks, lack depth, and the transitions between scenes feel detached. The set, designed by TK Hay, adds to the confusion with its rainbow-painted, adult creche appearance that doesn’t quite align with the unfolding drama.

The play attempts to tackle significant issues, such as the Black sperm donor shortage and the challenges faced by black women in the healthcare system, but these themes feel glazed over rather than explored. The scattered delivery of statistics and sudden serious moments disrupt the overall flow, leaving the audience somewhat disoriented.

On the positive side, the performances are enjoyable, with Uwajeh stealing the spotlight with her bouncy, gesturing portrayal of Ama. The supporting cast, including Jahmila Heath and Edward Kagutuzi, bring their characters to life, even if the material they work with is chaotic.

Brenda’s Got A Baby is a departure from Hagan’s previous works, notably “Queens of Sheba,” and while credit is due for trying something different, the play’s identity crisis remains a stumbling block. The unexpected twists and soapy elements provide moments of entertainment, and Michelle Asante’s portrayal of Ama’s mother adds a much-needed emotional core to the narrative.

Brenda’s Got A Baby is a mix of laughter, chaos, and some genuinely surprising twists. However, the play struggles to find its footing, leaving the audience with a sense of disconnection and a desire for more substance amidst the farce. Perhaps, like its protagonist, the play needs more time to develop and define its purpose.

Imposter 22, a pioneering theatrical creation emerging from a five-year collaboration with learning-disabled and autistic artists at Access All Areas, challenges the conventional boundaries of stagecraft with its whodunnit narrative.

The performance commences with a captivating crime scene, replete with a lifeless body at its epicentre, immediately ensnaring the audience within its enigmatic storyline. Seven neurodivergent characters take the helm, tasked with reconstructing the events that precipitated this dramatic moment. Riddled with the fear that their version of events might be met with incredulity, they recruit the audience as their “normal” witnesses, setting the stage for an exploration of perception versus reality.

Imposter 22 attempts to dismantle societal stereotypes and challenges ableism, shedding light on how neurodivergent individuals navigate a world that often fails to comprehend them. The characters’ desperate endeavour to re-enact events, grounded in the belief that “something only happened if a ‘normal’ saw it,” offers insights into their struggles and perspectives.

While the concept is undoubtedly innovative, the execution encounters hurdles. The plot, while promising, appears underdeveloped, occasionally leaving the audience perplexed regarding character motivations and the unfolding narrative. The play’s meta-theatrical cleverness, although intriguing, fails to seamlessly meld into a coherent whole, prompting a desire for more clarity and depth.

Nevertheless, Imposter 22 manages to shine in select moments, particularly when delving into genuine emotions and experiences. Stephanie Newman’s rendition of Rose, coupled with her intense interaction with Joe, delivers a blend of raw emotion and bawdy humour. Housni Hassan delivers a compelling performance as Kev, plumbing the depths of despair, while Cian Binchy’s portrayal of Jake, replete with cynicism and tetchiness, enriches the character dynamics.

Imposter 22 marks a substantial progress in broadening the array of voices on the theatrical stage. Imposter 22, while not fully realising its potential, serves as a noteworthy stride towards enhancing arts access and representation, spotlighting the profound capacity of theatre to cultivate empathy and understanding.

In summary, Imposter 22 offers a distinctive and thought-provoking theatrical experience that questions societal norms, particularly in the realms of neurodiversity and ableism. Despite its challenges with plot cohesion and pacing, it serves as a crucial reminder of the significance of diverse voices in the arts and the need to challenge societal stereotypes.

In a show that primarily deals with the trauma of providing end of life palliative care to a loved one, Ben Target manages to weave hysteric laughter throughout. This auto-biographical piece muses almost carelessly between themes of family, legacy, life and love whilst gently breaking our hearts before scooping us back up with a laugh. As he likes to keep lamenting, Target was a comedian once awarded best fringe newcomer after all.

The show takes places across multiple timelines with each beautifully woven together. One being Target’s childhood and connection to his silly and carefree adopted uncle Lorenzo, the Hong Kong fugitive and only adult with which he felt safe. Another is set during 2020, Target has moved in with Lorenzo to care for him since suffering a stroke. It is here we watch the two battling with Lorenzo’s failing body, which in turn drives a wedge between the once close relatives, family is who chose not who you’re born with. The final timeline is Target in present day, wrestling with the desire to share this story but also keep it light.

Tom Hartshorne’s set is stunning and adds yet another gleeful layer to the production. It’s many nooks and crannies forever delighting and overscoring what could be deeply upsetting moments.

This is a show that could have been bogged down in mire, yet instead is a celebration of what matters in life, the things you do, and the people you choose to surround yourself with.

In a mesmerising triumph of storytelling, All of It at the Royal Court captivates audiences with its fearless exploration of the human experience. Alistair McDowall’s poetic triptych, directed by Vicky Featherstone and Sam Pritchard, weaves together themes as vast as love, family, mortality, and memory in a production that is both intimate and theatrical.

The trilogy opens with “Northleigh, 1940”, an intriguing tale set against the backdrop of war. McDowall expertly merges Greek tragedy with the poignant emotions of wartime grief, while Merle Hensel’s worn and weathered set design provides a visually evocative stage for the narrative to unfold. The plot weaves together the tale of a woman and her father, both grieving the loss of the woman’s mother as war encompasses their lives.

Directed by Vicky Featherstone and Sam Pritchard, “In Stereo” initially delves into familiar territory before descending into the surreal. Kate O’Flynn’s portrayal of a lonely woman consumed by a growing damp patch on her bedroom wallpaper takes on an eerie quality as she encounters multiple versions of herself. McDowall explores the fractured psyche and the way our identities are absorbed into the spaces we inhabit, leaving an emotional stain on the material world. Melanie Wilson’s disorienting sound design and Elliot Griggs’ atmospheric lighting add layers of depth to the production.

The centrepiece of the trilogy, “All of It,” showcases McDowall’s genius. In a rapid-fire race through a woman’s entire life, O’Flynn’s performance is nothing short of extraordinary. From the fierce curiosity of childhood to the grinding routine of adulthood, O’Flynn captures the essence of each stage with impeccable precision. McDowall’s writing blends the mundane with moments of profound introspection, eliciting laughter and provoking poignant reflection in equal measure. In a mere 45 minutes, All of It manages to encompass a lifetime of experiences, leaving the audience breathless and deeply moved.

All of It at the Royal Court is a remarkable production that pushes the boundaries of theater, immersing audiences in a world where ordinary lives intertwine with the extraordinary. McDowall unearths the profound from the everyday but this trilogy of plays is truly elevated by the exceptional performances of Kate O’Flynn. 

Mustard is an extraordinary theatrical experience that takes audiences on a captivating journey through the depths of heartbreak and obsession. Eva O’Connor delivers a powerful and intense performance, infusing the production with a condiment-fuelled narrative that lingers in the minds of spectators.

O’Connor embodies the character of E, a young Irish woman grappling with a sense of loss and finding herself engulfed by unsympathetic men who undermine her self-worth. As E’s story unfolds, O’Connor skillfully readies the stage while simultaneously immersing herself in the performance. The jars filled with stinging yellow mustard are meticulously opened, their contents poured into a paddling pool, symbolizing E’s unconventional coping mechanism. Mustard becomes both her addiction and a representation of her grief and anxiety.

Under the direction of Hildegard Ryan, O’Connor’s performance exudes strength and confidence. The narrative transitions between vibrant scenes of pulsating nightclubs and empty beds. O’Connor’s descriptive language is both visceral and poetic, evoking a rich tapestry of emotions but can at times feel labored.

As O’Connor wipes away the remnants of the yellow mustard from her arms and stomach, the story concludes with a clean resolution. While Mustard showcases a captivating solo performance, there remains a sense that the production could have delved even deeper into its own tanginess and strangeness.

Mustard offers a captivating and thought-provoking theatrical experience. Eva O’Connor’s powerful portrayal, combined with the symbolic use of mustard, creates a vivid exploration of heartbreak and obsession. By embracing its own eccentricity and delving further into the depths of its narrative, Mustard has the potential to unleash an even more impactful and lasting impression on its audience.