REVIEW: The Girl on the Train


Rating: 3 out of 5.

“A moody psychological thriller based on the bestseller, elevated by immersive staging and atmosphere.”


Having read the novel and seen the film a long time ago, I entered the theatre with only a vague memory of the plot. I knew there was a twist but couldn’t recall what it was exactly, which felt like an ideal way to approach a mystery play. Though not directly comparable, if you enjoyed 2:22, this production might also appeal to you. Set in a British city and driven by the mystery’s tension, it delivers a similar dramatic unease.

The production’s greatest strength lies in its dynamic set design. Clever use of lighting and sound created a brooding, rain-soaked atmosphere that reflected Rachel’s troubled inner world. The backdrop of continuous rainfall added to the mood and helped anchor scenes visually. Rather than feeling abstract, the scenes of the train were surprisingly immersive. The final scenes ramped up the suspense, and I found myself invested in who would survive the climax.

Louisa Lytton as Rachel gave a committed performance, but at times the script made it hard to fully empathise with her. The character’s unreliability, due to both memory lapses and alcohol use, was central to the mystery but something which I found frustrating. The ‘whodunnit’ element repeatedly hinged on Rachel recalling the events of a single night, which began to feel overly repetitive. Her memories would shift or prove confused, and while that may be realistic, it limited the audience’s ability to piece together clues, as so much rested on information that wasn’t available until Rachel could recall it.

There were also moments of confusion in tone. Occasionally, lines received unexpected laughter from the audience. Yet the cast continued without pausing for laughs, leaving me unsure whether these moments were intentionally humorous or not. The smoke machine was overused and towards the end, it became excessive. At one point, the smoke obscured the stage and even spilled into the audience area, creating a distracting fog that felt more accidental than intentional.

Despite these issues, the show had its gripping moments. It succeeded in building tension and one thing I particularly appreciated was how easy the storyline was to follow. For a psychological thriller, it maintained clarity without oversimplifying, making it accessible without losing intrigue. I’ve found myself really enjoying this genre on stage, it offers an engaging, relatively easy watch that still gives you something to discuss with friends afterwards. I would like to revisit the novel, if only to compare what was kept and what was changed for the stage.

While the title might suggest a story heavily grounded in train journeys, the story is only loosely tethered to that setting. Nevertheless, for fans of psychological thrillers and stage adaptations, The Girl on the Train offers a moody, intriguing evening at the theatre.

The Girl on the Train plays at the Liverpool Everyman until 17th May. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Rosalie Minnitt’s Clementine


Rating: 3 out of 5.

A whirlwind of interactive chaos, abstract comedy, and pop culture nods


The show launched straight into audience interaction, and for the first ten minutes, I found myself feeling a little on edge especially as I was attending alone. Clementine called on audience members throughout the show which left me feeling a nervous anticipation, unsure of what might happen next. However, as the story started to take shape, I settled into the show (helped by the relief of being seated at the end of a row, making me a less likely target!)

Rosalie Minnitt has an undeniable stage presence and impeccable wit, commanding the room with confidence and charm. She has the kind of energy that makes you feel like she would be the funniest person in any friendship group, always ready with a perfectly timed joke. Her ability to bounce off the audience and adapt to their reactions was a highlight of the show. The audience members brought on stage embraced the chaos, and their interactions with Clementine led to some of the best moments of the night.
The show was completely chaotic, moving rapidly from one thought to another. At times, this was utterly hysterical, but at other moments, it felt overwhelming, leaving me struggling to keep up. Some jokes landed perfectly, while others felt like they got lost in the whirlwind of rapid-fire storytelling.

A projector was used in the show, which at times was difficult to read due to being projected onto a curtain, meaning some jokes lost their impact. Pop culture references were scattered throughout the show, from Celebrity Big Brother’s “David is dead” to Love Actually’s “I look quite pretty”, and while some went over my head, others had me laughing out loud.

Despite some very funny moments, the concept of the show felt a little abstract for me. It thrived on unpredictability, which made for some brilliantly offbeat moments but also meant that the pacing sometimes felt erratic.

Overall, Clementine is a bold, eccentric character comedy filled with clever references, interactive chaos, and a leading performer who is undeniably talented. While it didn’t entirely click for me, it’s clear that many in the audience were fully on board, and for those who enjoy absurd, high energy comedy, this will be a hit.

REVIEW: Shirley Valentine


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A heartfelt journey that has you rooting for Shirley every step of the way, leaving you filled with pride


Before the show began, the stage felt intimate with a simple table and dining chairs set against an empty backdrop. When the production started, the back panel lifted to reveal a fully realised 1980s kitchen, a transformation that set the scene for Shirley’s world. As Shirley Valentine (played by Helen Carter) walked onto the stage, the entire crowd erupted in cheers, revealing the strong following and deep admiration for both the play and Carter herself.

Carter brought a warmth to Shirley that made her loveable. Throughout the show, you felt an urge to root for her, to call out encouragement – “Shirley, get out there and do it!” or “Shirley, don’t put up with that!” Her delivery of Shirley’s reflections on life, lost dreams, and small moments of joy was so heartfelt that you couldn’t help but be emotionally invested.

One of the most impressive aspects of the performance was Carter’s ability to embody not just Shirley but all the people in her life. Through Shirley’s narration, she seamlessly shifted into other characters, each distinct enough that you could picture them vividly. It never felt like a one-woman show but instead it felt like a stage filled with different personalities, all experienced through Shirley’s eyes.

One of my favourite aspects of the show was that it felt natural, as though we were watching Shirley in her home rather than a theatrical performance. The way she spoke to “the wall” or “the rock” made it clear that the storytelling wasn’t for us as an audience but was a normal part of Shirley’s life. It felt intimate and real, as if these conversations were ones Shirley would be having with herself regardless of whether we were watching.

The production balanced emotional depth with humour. There were sad, heartwarming moments that tugged at the audience’s emotions, but also joyous ones that made you laugh. By the end, I felt a deep sense of pride for Shirley, for stepping beyond the life she had settled into and daring to take a chance on something more.

The set design was crafted to transport the audience back to the 1980s with details such as the old-style chip fryer, the classic Fairy Liquid branding, and frequent mentions of “chips and eggs” (though, my mum insisted that people in the ‘80s said “egg and chips” instead). These small touches made the setting feel real.

As the final bow approached, there was a visible tear in Helen Carter’s eye, a touching moment that showed just how much the audience’s support meant to her. It was a beautiful reminder that the appreciation between a performer and audience can be truly mutual.

REVIEW: Swan Lake


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Hauntingly captivating, lingering in the mind long after the performance ends


Having never been to a ballet before, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. From the start, I was captivated – the stage opened with a white screen projection of a black swan in flight, immediately setting the tone for something dramatic and mesmerising. The use of projected flying swans throughout the show was a striking visual choice, drawing me deeper into the world of the Prince and his haunting visions.

The show’s comedic elements often came from the Prince’s girlfriend, a character bursting with charisma. She had a playful energy and brought a modern touch to the production. One hilarious moment featured a phone ringing in a theatre scene – something I initially cringed at, believing it to be an actual audience mishap. It was a brilliant moment that added to her charm.

The set design was stunning, with multiple breathtaking backdrops that seamlessly transitioned throughout the show. The opening scene of the Prince in bed was particularly memorable, featuring a mirror above him reflecting a swan overhead, immediately sparking intrigue which served as the first introduction to the swans that define the play’s title. This dreamlike quality was carried throughout, reinforced by the show’s use of shadows and silhouettes. At times, my focus was drawn more to the shadows than to the performers themselves, enhancing the themes of duality embodied by the Swan and the Stranger.

The swans themselves were hypnotic. Their movement was both fluid and unsettling, perfectly embodying the eerie majesty of real-life swans – beautiful, yet somehow terrifying. Subtle sound design, including the noise of their feet and hushed vocalisations, only added to their supernatural presence, making these moments of the performance feel haunting.

The use of white throughout the show, especially in the final scenes, reinforced the presence of the swans. It was almost as if the Prince’s imagination had been entirely consumed by the Swan in these final scenes. The interplay of light and shadow created a sense of inevitability, which deepened the production’s emotional weight.

As someone new to ballet, this felt like the perfect introduction. The dancing was incredible, not only in its technicality but also in its ability to convey emotion and drive the story forward. While the longer dance sequences were impressive, I was most drawn in when the movement directly propelled the plot, such as in the Swank bar scenes. Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake was a spellbinding experience, blending modern elements with breathtaking choreography, leaving a lasting impression long after the final curtain fell.

REVIEW: The Peaceful Hour


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A laugh-out-loud, nostalgia-filled comedy with plenty of heart


On the surface, The Peaceful Hour seems like a classic culture clash turned love story – a posh southerner stepping into the unfamiliar world of Kirkby and falling for a local working-class mobile hairdresser. But Gerry Linford’s latest play is much more than that. It’s a witty, self-aware, and at times delightfully cheesy exploration of love, community, and belonging.

Tim, played by Jack Whittle, an anthropology student from the Cotswolds, finds himself thrown into the chaos of Julie’s Scouse family after a chance nightclub meeting. Having previously seen Whittle in TONY!, where his hilarious facial expressions added so much to the comedy, he brought the same expressive brilliance to this role, using his face to convey everything from awkward enthusiasm to sheer bewilderment. At first, he seems like an outsider, observing northern life as if it were a study. Yet, beneath his posh exterior, Tim is warm-hearted, enthusiastic, and genuinely interested in the people around him. The play cleverly questions class and socialism – can someone like Tim truly empathise with working-class struggles, or is he forever shaped by his privileged background?

For me, the standout performance comes from Lenny Wood as Carl. His character, fresh off a Spanish holiday, is a perfect blend of sharp writing and excellent comedic timing. The script paints Carl as an exaggerated stereotype of a Scouser returning from a package holiday – complete with sunburnt limbs, ridiculous shorts, and complaints about the beer abroad (despite drinking the hotel dry). Yet, it is Wood’s delivery that really elevates the role. His ability to land every punchline with effortless charm, combined with his natural stage presence, made Carl one of the most memorable characters of the night. The entire audience was laughing hysterically at his moments.

Beyond the laughs, the play beautifully illustrates the deep bonds of family and community. Julie’s family may be dysfunctional, but they stand by each other. You might expect that Tommy, technically an ex to Julie, would be shunned by the family after the end of their lacklustre relationship. Instead, he is still welcomed by the family as part of the household, reinforcing the idea that relationships in close-knit communities run deep and aren’t easily severed by break-ups.

The set design added to the play’s immersive feel, making the audience feel as if they had stepped into Julie’s living room in Kirkby. It had a cosy, lived-in aesthetic that reflected the family at the heart of the story. The lighting played a key role in establishing atmosphere, evoking the hours when The Peaceful Hour radio show would be on (10 pm-2 am). They created the feeling of being inside a flat in a tower block, using a concrete fence as a balcony, complete with graffiti.

For those familiar with 1980s Liverpool, the play is packed with nostalgia. As someone who wasn’t alive then, some references went completely over my head. This led to a post-show conversation with my mum, where I found myself asking, “Mum, who exactly is Scully?” and “Did Kirkby really have a ski slope in the 1970s?”. However, the classic 1980s soundtrack felt completely familiar to me, with big hits that have obviously stood the test of time.

Yes, the play indulges in cheesiness, but that’s the point. It explores how love manifests differently for different people – whether in romance, friendship, or family ties. The radio show itself, The Peaceful Hour, felt more like a backdrop to an already rich story, though older generations might have been initially drawn to the show itself due to the nostalgic appeal from the radio show.

REVIEW: Pass the Parcel


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A heartfelt, hilarious Scouse tale of love, loss, and loyalty.


Some plays make you laugh, some plays make you cry – Pass The Parcel does both, often within the same breath. Sarah Whitehead’s beautifully crafted play is a heartfelt, funny, and deeply moving exploration of family, loss, and the memories that shape us. As a Scouser, it felt like stepping into a living room I’d known my whole life.

The story follows three sisters – Lindsay, Kelly, and Mona – brought together after the passing of their mother, Lilly Gray. A mysterious game of “pass the parcel” stirs old memories, bringing long-buried tensions to the surface. As secrets unravel, the past reshapes their understanding of the present. The show doesn’t just focus on grief, it also captures the quirks and chaos of family dynamics with pitch-perfect humour and authenticity.

One of the production’s greatest strengths is its balance between emotion and comedy. There are moments that tug at the heartstrings, but these are quickly softened with a well-placed joke – often delivered by Pamela, who steals the show with a hysterical and larger-than-life performance. She feels like an amalgamation of every boisterous, warm-hearted person you’ve ever met at a family gathering and she isn’t afraid to say exactly what she’s thinking. The play cleverly blends nostalgia with modernity—one moment referencing Harold Bishop in Neighbours, the next seeing Pamela setting up an Instagram for the church and navigating questionable DMs.

The chemistry between the cast is effortless, making the sisters’ interactions feel organic and real. The way they bicker, reminisce, and occasionally gang up on each other feels so familiar. Though the cast consists of only four people, characters like Lindsay’s son and Father Tony, though unseen, feel just as present, making the world of the play feel full and lived in. However, their mother, Lilly, remains somewhat distant – I felt we didn’t get to know her as intimately as we do the sisters. With the play relying on flashbacks, I also felt there were occasional moments of confusion about which time period we were in.

The minimal set, four chairs, a table and a few props, is used ingeniously to transport us between different places in their lives: the hairdressers, Lilly’s living room, the church. I found myself unintentionally picturing these locations as familiar places from my own life, adding to the play’s immersive nature.

Mona, with her “Mystic Meg” charm, is another standout character, frequently providing comic relief alongside Pamela. She has a wildly varied CV (including a stint as Joanna Lumley’s cat walker) and adds a level of unpredictability that keeps the audience engaged.

The show does a brilliant job of capturing how people view family differently. Lindsay is deeply loyal to Liverpool, while Kelly moves to London and sees family as existing wherever she is. Mona, the wanderer, seems to lack a fixed home, with the closest thing being her local childhood Chinese takeaway – where she places the exact same order, no matter how much time has passed.For anyone with a connection to Liverpool, Pass The Parcel feels like home. The Scouse accent, familiar banter, and deeply rooted sense of humour provide a warmth that wraps around you like a big, familiar hug. However, it’s uncertain how well this would translate to non-Scouse audiences, as so much of its charm is tied to its regional identity. But this play isn’t just for Scousers—it’s for anyone who has ever lost someone, fought with a sibling, or laughed until they cried at a family story they’ve heard a hundred times before.