Ben Breen

REVIEW: Russell Kane

Published on December 1, 2025November 30, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

High-octane, incisive stand-up

The largest performance space at Woolwich Works is located in a former fireworks factory. All scuffed floors and exposed brickwork, it offers a very different form of craftsmanship and spectacle tonight. Russell Kane, Sarah Keyworth and Tadiwa Mahlunge take to the stage, adeptly compered by Amy Gledhill. What follows is an evening of exciting, intelligent stand-up.

Russell Kane’s headline performance sets a frenetic pace that never relents, zipping about the stage like a bluebottle under a glass. One half giddy toddler, and the other embittered comic, both the pace of Kane’s delivery and the vulgarity of his imagery give the BSL interpreter (onstage for all of the acts) a run for their money.

Kane’s set is a series of laugh-out-loud rants held together by the physicality of his performance, ranging from gentle parenting to a scathing takedown of Gregg Wallace. The performance is at its best when the chaos gives way to sharply observed social commentary. Kane makes intelligent points about 18-25-year-olds swerving live comedy, and the case for primary school sex education, even while poking fun at the pretentiousness of those who find him “clever”.

Sarah Keyworth’s set closing out the first half is a real treat, offering a fresh take on the well-trodden themes of identity and sexuality. A particularly funny segment about their recent experience of top surgery has even the BSL interpreter cracking up onstage. Keyworth’s clear command of the medium facilitates some excellent crowd work, and they get big laughs from a couple who met whilst performing at the 2012 Olympic Opening Ceremony. An unfortunate Freudian slip calling their girlfriend “mum” shows their humanity, and is milked for additional laughs. Keyworth paints hilarious images, describing what it would be like to be non-binary on the Titanic, and a disbelieving bartender doubting both age and gender – both delivered with great hilarity.

Tadiwa Mahlunge’s set is more awkward, centering on feeling out of place – living in Croydon as “the black boy from the uni prospectus”, and being in an interracial couple. His sharpest observations are about transitioning from finance into comedy, industries equally awash with cocaine, particularly his spreadsheet “hack” for office small talk. But a number of jokes follow predictable rhythms, and his pop-culture references feel dated and forced. A final segment on Ukraine is missing a satirical edge, failing to justify its place in the set.

Amy Gledhill – still overawed at having taken the ferry to get here – is tasked with holding the show together. Always good value, she warms up the crowd ably and somehow finds three separate alumni of Hull University this far south! Her infectious enthusiasm for the evening propels the show forward, and a very funny story about open-mic burlesque is no less effective for its repetition from the Greenwich Comedy Festival this summer.

Comedy crowds thrive on intimacy, feeling like you’re sharing something a little bit naughty. This vast factory floor – inexplicably laid out in a wide but shallow seating arrangement – is not the ideal venue. There are a few mic issues for Kane’s set, and the show is 15 minutes late to start. But Gledhill’s buoyant energy, Keyworth’s command of the stage, and Kane’s high-energy social commentary make for a thoroughly engaging evening. This is an event to watch out for in the future.

Live at the Works will return with regular shows in 2026.

REVIEW: Ian Smith: Foot Spa Half Empty

Published on November 29, 2025November 29, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

An askance look at life’s bewildering frustrations, and male fertility

It’s a cliché to describe every Northern comic as “down-to-Earth”. But Ian Smith’s hilarious bafflement at the trappings of everyday life – pub beer gardens, supermarket shopping, what3words – is nothing if not relatable. His easy rapport and distinct brand of exasperation make Foot Spa Half Empty a crowd-pleaser with a warm heart. Brimming with surreal digressions, Smith delivers an accomplished, tightly-structured set full of sharp jokes and cheeky asides.

Since critically-acclaimed Crushing, Smith has been on the up – he’s got elderflower cordial in the cupboard, made his debut on Have I Got News For You, and even has his own Wikipedia page. He jokes that, as a comic finding humour in stressful life moments, he worried he’d have nothing left to write about. But Smith’s fruitless attempts to become a father land him in a windowless capsule giving a sperm sample, providing the show’s narrative spine. There’s a level of bravery to discussing male fertility issues onstage, but Smith’s comic instinct cuts straight to the laughs.

Much of Foot Spa Half Empty covers familiar territory – becoming middle class, getting older, embarrassing medical tests – yet Smith consistently uncovers the surreal ridiculousness beneath. It’s a polished, multi-layered performance rich with recurring gags, and a handful of unexpected props inject a welcome unpredictability. His relaxed rapport with the audience gives the show a bespoke quality: a groan from the stalls provides extra content peppered throughout the show, and an accidentally upended glass of water ends up funnier than many comics’ written routines.

Smith is at his best railing hyperbolically against the absurdities of everyday life. Highlights include a seagull flying around armed with a steak knife, and a primary school lesson about identifying fruit using the sense of touch. Some more avant-garde elements – a flashforward is trailed at the show’s outset, and the audience is left to anticipate some “product placement” – add a sense of dramatic tension. A picture frame facing into the wall becomes a sight-gag Chekhov’s gun.

Whilst a few moments don’t quite land, Smith’s likeability and joke-packed script ensure the laughs quickly return. Foot Spa Half Empty’s infertility thread keeps the show moving along, and by normalising a surprisingly common problem (1 in 12 men, apparently) smuggles in a warm message. Fundamentally, though, it’s simply a joy to see an accomplished performer at the top of his game. Worth it for the knife-wielding seagull alone.

Foot Spa Half Empty is on national tour from February-June 2026, and tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: The Unbelievers

Published on October 23, 2025October 23, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

“An engrossingly human drama as a missing child causes a family to collapse“

For your child to go missing – and then stay missing – is every parent’s worst nightmare. Nick Payne’s The Unbelievers tackles this knotty issue head-on, capturing a family trying to survive in the shadow of such a gaping loss. Scenes ricochet through a non-linear timeline, and occasionally bleed into one another, capturing moments from the week of Oscar’s disappearance, its one-year anniversary, and then seven years since going missing. Excellent performances and intelligent dialogue paint a compelling portrait of a family imploding.

There’s a tragic inevitability to the way Miriam (Nicola Walker) tears the rest of her family apart with nowhere to focus her grief. It’s an exceptional performance, embodying an almost animalistic desperation and anger. Paul Higgins is just as arresting as David, Oscar’s recently separated father. He wrestles with his own emotions, while desperately trying to pull those he loves back together.

There’s an intelligence to the writing, dropping the audience into complex scenarios and trusting them to discern what matters and who the key players are. This uncertainty mirrors Miriam’s frustrations, propelling early scenes at the pace of a WhoDunnit. Nick Payne’s impeccable dialogue captures complex emotions in every line: “I’ve been thinking about his body – his body used to be my body”.

It’s brave to present such a fractured, imperfect family, but this risk pays off. The drama onstage feels all the more real, and visceral, for its messiness. Miriam’s is a very understandable breakdown, but no less tragic for its comprehensibility. At times, however, this authenticity works against the production. Ending with so many unresolved threads feels authentic, but lacks narrative satisfaction. Some of the humour is occasionally too on-the-nose, making sense for people awkwardly scrambling to break tension, but an audience can stand up to more in the safe space of the theatre. I’m not arguing for Oscar walking back through the door, but seeing how Miriam’s latest Belgian lead plays out, and how she responds, would be more satisfying.

This sense of being on the cusp of brilliance extends to set design. The action unfolds in the same blank white room, illuminated by the same PVC window at stage right. When not in a scene, characters sit suspended in a waiting room upstage, a device with a subtle but satisfying pay-off. Still, it feels as if something more visually or conceptually ambitious was within reach.

In a post-show Q&A, writer Nick Payne notes he prefers telling stories through form rather than plot. The Unbelievers exemplifies both the power and limitation of this approach. A wonderful complexity plays out onstage, with engrossing performances elevating an already-strong script. But on the train ride home, that emotional resonance lacks something concrete to latch onto.
The Unbelievers plays at the Royal Court until 29th November, with Thursday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Lifers

Published on October 9, 2025October 8, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

A claustrophobic examination of what it means to grow old in a failing prison system

Lifers opens on a prison-cell game of Texas-Hold-‘Em, as three old-timers raise, call and fold for a prize pot of toothpicks. Baxter is over-confident and keeps going all-in; Norton is becoming increasingly irate, in equal parts because he’s losing and because his latest conspiracy theory is being laughed at; and loveable grandfather-type Lenny is doing well enough, although he occasionally forgets how many cards need to be dealt. His Zimmer frame sits inauspiciously in the corner. It’s a damning indictment of a prison system where elderly lifers struggle to navigate slow-grinding bureaucracy, and retain some dignity in their final years.

Peter Wright’s Lenny is both charming and heartbreaking, particularly once it becomes apparent he hasn’t only been forgetting how to deal. Sam Cod’s Norton, by contrast, is repellently self-serving. They make for a compelling duo in Lifers’ early scenes, but as the narrative progresses it’s James Backway who steals the show. Pulling double-duty as Mark – the idealistic prison officer arguing everyone is entitled to be cared for – and as Lenny’s son Simian (plus a brief cameo as prosecution barrister), Backway sketches some very human, emotionally affecting characters.

A particularly compelling scene finds Mark in hospital, bonding with Lenny as they await the results of medical tests. Caught in the to-and-fro between not sharing personal information, and recognising the power of human connection, this struggle in Mark’s conscience provides the backbone to an otherwise unstructured narrative.

A general lack of stakes drains the story’s momentum: there’s no hope of seeing the prisoners overcome their past misdeeds, and whatever Lenny has wrong with him doesn’t feel like the sort of thing you bounce back from. Lifers is too shy about leaning into the bigger philosophical and moral questions that could give it depth – is everyone entitled to dignity? Are some crimes unforgiveable? Whose job is it to care for those who don’t have anyone to care for them? It’s a pity, because when these questions do come to the fore, the actors shine.

Towards the show’s conclusion, estranged son Simian visits following a medical diagnosis. Only at this point do the audience realise we have no idea what Lenny’s actually in for. The tension this lends to the confrontation is palpable. Too often, though, Lifers is content to remain confined within its claustrophobic character studies, or resorts to cliché such as the cynical prison doctor who’s seen-it-all-before: “we have a duty of care, Mark, but we don’t have a duty to care”. It’s a good line, but perhaps too one-dimensional for this character.

The gallows humour between prisoners resigned to their fate, and also the staff tasked with carrying it out, lands more often than not. Norton in particular has some snappy one-liners, and in his more lucid moments Lenny takes on a similar seen-it-all wit reminiscent of Fletcher from Porridge. There’s also a simmering, justifiable rage at the ineffectiveness of the prison system: it takes Baxter 11 months’ form-filling to get a new pillow, and the library hasn’t seen a new book since 1985.

At a time when Britain’s prison system is crumbling, Lifers’ message of dignity for all feels particularly relevant. Yet that urgency often fades amidst its characters’ daily lives, despite some great performances. Whilst Lifers shines an entertaining spotlight on a topic we rarely discuss, you leave feeling that a bolder script and staging could have realised its themes – and Lenny’s story – more fully.

Lifers plays at the Southwark Playhouse Borough until 25^th October, with Tuesday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Ohio at the Young Vic

Published on October 5, 2025October 4, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

An emotional fusion of folk and feeling that blurs the line between concert and confession

The tender emotions and story beats punctuating Ohio’s songs feel too raw and honest for a gig, yet its musical craft and time-spanning narrative mean it doesn’t feel like a musical either. Viewed through the lens of performance art, its hauntingly beautiful lyrics, moments of audience collaboration, and immersion in one performer’s experience of tinnitus make perfect sense. Critically-acclaimed folk duo The Bengsons command the stage with a series of emotionally powerful songs woven through a deeply personal story of connection, community and loss.

Entering the Maria Theatre, the Young Vic’s secondary performance space, an audience would be forgiven for expecting a low-key DJ set: a lone Macbook sits in a spotlight, flanked by two mic stands and a chorus of lighting towers. A solitary guitar lingers in the background, shrouded in shadow. But when The Bengsons enter through the crowd, involve the audience in a “sing-it-back-to-me” vocal warm-up, and then use the Macbook to establish the first of many textured soundscapes crafted solely from Abigail Bengson’s voice, it’s clear this will be a warm, collaborative and musically exciting performance.

Whilst Ohio’s narrative is bleak – taking in Shaun Bengson’s loss of faith, his struggles with tinnitus, and a very difficult birth for the couple – the audience’s lasting impression is of being uplifted. There’s a joyful energy to The Bengsons’ command of the stage, chuckling at one another’s jokes and allowing themselves to become lost in an almost spiritual performance. The audience are also encouraged to let the music take them, which is surprisingly easy even for a press-night crowd. Abigail’s infectious energy sees her bounding around the stage, dancing up a storm, tapping out rhythms on her chest. The audience follow her lead, soon humming a backing melody and reading lines for Shaun’s childhood choir director, who spotted a shy boy in need of a purpose. Almost immediately, The Bengsons establish a sense of community and collaboration in the room.

The organic feeling of these moments is what makes Ohio special, as a result of The Bengsons’ deeply personal insights, and their infectious chemistry. Abigail’s voice quivers with real power, her vocal control remarkable; Shaun’s guitar-playing is wonderfully percussive, his singing underpinned by a compelling growl. The role of host best fits Abigail, who takes some early technical issues in her stride: initially cracking a few jokes, before leading an impromptu dance-break with the audience as the technical team swoop in.

Minimal staging enhances this sense of intimacy, but is not without its own power. The whole performance is captioned on a screen behind the musicians, and this is used to devastating effect alongside modulated microphones to immerse the audience in Shaun’s experience of tinnitus. This sequence, in particular, lingers long after the final note fades.

Some musical sections feel a touch over-indulgent, and the captioning occasionally kills comic timing by spoiling the punchline. But this is easy to forgive for such an honest, emotionally wrenching, and exquisitely soundtracked show.

Ultimately, Ohio’s power lies in its honesty and the magnetic performance of The Bengsons. Their joy in performing is infectious, and their vulnerability draws the audience into something that feels less like a show and more like a shared act of remembrance. Whilst its themes are deeply affecting, the experience is one of hope and warmth – a celebration of community, and the healing that music can bring.

Ohio plays at The Young Vic until 24^th October, with Wednesday and Saturday matinees. Tickets here.

Reviewers’ Note: This performance stopped 10 minutes before its conclusion as a result of a medical emergency, and did not resume. A script for the final scenes was provided for the purposes of this review.

REVIEW: Lorna Rose Treen-24 Hour Diner People

Published on September 13, 2025September 13, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

“Lorna Rose Treen dazzles in this exciting fever-dream”

Take your seat at The Bluetit Diner – “named after the time I slammed my breast in the fridge” – sit back, embrace the chaos and meet some of its regular patrons. A young girl is giddy at her first ever kiss, an inept private investigator wallows in nostalgia, and a truck driver has ridiculously long arms. In a rapid-fire mix of comedic styles, 24-Hour Diner People is an anarchic hour of joke-packed character comedy that’s an immense amount of fun.

Treen’s last show, Skin Pigeon, spearheaded the recent resurgence of sketch comedy in the UK. Its refreshing mix of unpredictable absurdism and genuine sense of fun won both critical plaudits – including Chortle’s Best Alternative Act 2024 – and multiple sell-out runs in Edinburgh and Soho. It’s a tough act to follow, but the same magic is undoubtedly captured in 24-Hour Diner People. If Skin Pigeon was her breakout show, then this is Treen strutting confidently around the stage showing just how brilliant she is.

It’s certainly an ambitious undertaking, with Treen zipping in and out of costume. At one point, she plays both halves of a robber holding up a waitress to steal the diner’s tip jar, with a partially inflated sex doll taking the place of whichever character Treen isn’t currently embodying. It’s very funny, and very silly, but underpinned by real intelligence. 24-Hour Diner People’s dense mix of puns, audience interaction, physical gurning and running gags combine into a show that feels unique to the room, leaving the audience grateful to have seen the chaos unfold. There are even satirical jabs thrown in for good measure, including a deliciously naughty zinger about the assassination of Charlie Kirk.

Whilst not every moment lands – there’s an overly long dance break to polite chuckles, the private investigator gets fewer laughs than most, and some transitions fall a little flat – the script is so joke-dense that you’re only ever a few moments from another genuine laugh. This is helped by an irresistible momentum: the diner is a coherent backdrop for a mesmerising array of characters, culminating in a satisfying costume-changing finale, tied together with an overarching narrative about a bad review from The Sun newspaper. Accused of killing comedy, Treen jokes she’s now written a “sort-of” play to kill theatre too.

Leaving the Soho Theatre after 24-Hour Diner People’s hour of anarchy, you’re left wondering what exactly you’ve just witnessed – in the best possible way. This is an off-the-wall, intelligently surreal car crash of a show, confirming Lorna Rose Treen as one of the most exciting character comics on the circuit.

REVIEW: TWO

Published on August 28, 2025August 28, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

“The intense humanity of a pub’s motley crew of regulars is on full display in this immersive production”

Jim Cartwright’s Two transforms the on-site café at The Greenwich Theatre into ‘The Clock & Compass’, a working class 1980s pub. Seated at well-worn tables in the bar, the audience are introduced to a set of characters adeptly played by Peter Caulfield and Kellie Shirley. Some comic, others tragic, but all well-sketched, coming together to deliver as many laughs as tears over the show’s 90 minutes.

Two’s biggest strength is its acting, with Caulfield and Shirley’s blistering chemistry delivering standout performances. Well-considered wardrobe, mannerisms, and accents ensure each character is fully realised. From the jack-the-lad chancing his luck with every lady he makes eye contact with, to the hobbling old lady whose daily drink the landlord can set his watch by, every patron offers a unique outlook on the world.

A particular highlight is the increasingly aggressive and paranoid boyfriend, who forces his girlfriend to ask permission to use the bathroom. This is one of the most heart-wrenching scenes I’ve seen, amplified by the fact it’s happening just feet away from you.

The comedy offers a strong mix of acerbic put-downs, observational irony and physicality. The opening act is perhaps over-reliant on these light-hearted interactions, whereas its second half strikes a much better balance between the dramatic and humorous and is all the more compelling for it.

Between scenes, the married landlord and lady act as recurring characters: the husband makes the same jokes to the same people at the same time each evening, and when things get tough his wife combines spirits from multiple optics to make a proto-Long Island Iced Tea. Life is difficult when all your social and professional interactions play out within the same four walls, and when a patron puts his foot in it just before the interval this hints at darker things to come. “Oh, you didn’t hear…” says Shirley, realising through misty eyes, foreshadowing a powerful finale.

The immersion is high: if you’re lucky the actors will even serve your pre-show drink from behind the bar. The pub ‘set’ is brought to life by the scampi fries beside the lager, fag ends in cut-glass ashtrays at every table, and a fading England flag on the wall. Dialogue is directed at audience members with no expectation of response – the most interaction required is raising your glass as a sign of respect. This initially feels a little awkward but soon fades as Two gains momentum.

This immersion makes for the least monologue-feeling monologues of all time, enlisting not just the audience but the pub itself as additional characters. There’s a sense of dynamism and reciprocation that the drama in particular benefits from, with scenes becoming all the more affecting for their proximity. It’s like being dropped into your favourite soap opera, but with world-class acting.

Two’s run at The Greenwich Theatre has already been extended, and it’s easy to see why. As well as compelling drama and a good few laughs, the show is a love letter to a certain type of down-at-heel, family-run boozer. Whilst there are a few issues with pacing in the first half, when the drama lands it lands hard. You won’t regret taking a seat at the bar for this intensely emotional experience.

Two plays at The Greenwich Theatre until 21st September, with a range of start times. Tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Spin-A-Play

Published on August 18, 2025August 19, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

A chaotically joyful improvised play, just about held together by its host

Spin-A-Play is an entirely improvised comic performance sculpted from audience suggestions: everything from its genre and title to the nature of its dramatic finale is sourced spontaneously as the plot unfolds. Narrator and host Aaron Weight attempts to keep the show (somewhat) on the rails, whilst his company of five actors ad-lib the story, characters, and dialogue in front of a live audience.

This afternoon’s performance is a mashup of Dickens and Shakespeare. A Victorian urchin skiving from the workhouse, a cross-dressing traveller from a far-off land, and a hi-vis ghost collectively navigate family reunions, an exorcism, and even a little socialist propaganda. It’s obvious the whole crew are having a lot of fun onstage, laughing at each other’s ideas and occasionally throwing a fellow performer under the bus. This sense of joy spills over into the audience, who revel in the organically anarchic and warmly funny show.

When you think UK improvisational comedy, chances are you think either The Comedy Store Players – lots of audience suggestions in rapid-fire sketches and games – or Austentatious – an audience suggested title generates a hilarious, moving and utterly unique two-act show. Spin-A-Play sits somewhere in the middle: it’s long-form and clings to an overarching plotline, but with frequent audience contributions shaping everything from the next line of dialogue to what the villain will manufacture in his factory (appropriately Dickensian!).

Narrator and host Aaron stands beside the tiny stage, taking notes on plot developments and providing several recaps throughout the show. Shouting “freeze” at key moments, it’s also his job to solicit audience input, throwing in his own off-the-wall suggestions as he goes. Spin-A-Play is at its best with Aaron, giggling along, providing a meta-commentary on the mayhem he and the audience have wrought.

Being such an interactive production, there are times when jokes don’t land and key plot points are forgotten, but if anything this adds to the unpredictable excitement. Whilst Spin-A-Play lacks the polish and sense of closure of Austentatious, it cultivates its own unique spirit of community fun. You haven’t lived until you’ve seen multiple pelvises thrust towards the front row, aimed at the audience member who cheekily suggested ‘Burlesque’ as a theme. There are times, however, when an actor runs out of steam, and their co-performers either don’t notice or are unable to bail them out; sharper instincts here would lead to a faster-paced, more cogent show and create new moments of hilarity.

The standout performer today is Joseph Betts, pulling double duty as both street urchin and erotic ghost. He earns many of the biggest laughs while shouldering much of the plot’s forward momentum. Aaron is similarly indispensable as host, gamely coaxing suggestions from an initially reluctant audience. At one point, he impishly instructs Joseph to perform in a scene containing both his characters, specifying that he must swap between them “at least five times” – much to the actor’s frustration and the delight of the audience.

For fans of long-form improvisation, Spin-A-Play offers a charmingly disordered take on the genre. Performers and audience alike are swept up in the joyous silliness. Whilst it would be good to have a more consistent plotline holding everything together, and fewer moments where momentum is lost, this is still an hour of communal mischief that’s thoroughly entertaining.

REVIEW: Three Billion Letters at Riverside Studios

Published on August 14, 2025August 14, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

Science and Art cancel each other out in this confusing production

The human genome shares 17-24% of its make-up with a banana, 99% with a chimpanzee, and only 0.1% varies between humans. But these differences matter. Three Billion Letters is an interdisciplinary project combining science and art to explore the wonders of genetics. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of waiting around for something interesting to happen, and then when it does the idea goes largely unexplored, in a show lacking both scientific interest and artistic perspective.

Entering Riverside Studios’ Studio 3, the audience are issued an envelope containing a bitter chemical only people with the TAS2R38 gene – who the show terms “supertasters” – can perceive. This experiment is used to divide the audience down the middle aisle, separating those who could taste the bitterness from those who couldn’t. And then: nothing. No attempt is made to explain how this genetic difference affects sense perception, or to explore its philosophical implications for understanding human experience. The show just moves on. A similar experiment about grey hair is equally fruitless, beyond moving the audience into a differently divided arrangement.

There’s also a lot of awkward sitting around. At one point, some “non-supertasters” are taken outside (as it turns out to be briefed on a perplexing song celebrating Darwin for later in the show). This could have been a great opportunity for scientific exposition, but instead the audience are subjected to an endless tape loop of a single sentence about genetics being played and rewound. Whilst Mimmi Bauer, one-third of the writer/performers, exhibits decent comic timing, the lack of improvisational experience is exposed by the awkwardness of these audience interactions.

That’s not to say that there aren’t good ideas here, just that they’re not executed well. In addition to the experiments dividing the audience, there are interesting ethical questions raised: about designer babies, genetic data privacy, and what makes “good” genetic material. There are several opportunities for the audience to express their opinions using dry-erase paddles. But in most cases these ideas are moved away from too quickly to yield interesting conversation.

Towards the show’s end it opens up into a town-hall style discussion, where some genuinely moving points are made. In particular, an audience member beautifully articulates how her experience raising a child with a genetic disorder has shaped her perspective on designer babies. These insights come from the audience’s own experiences, rather than anything the production actively facilitates.

The promise of Three Billion Letters is a cross-disciplinary showcase blending art and science to combine personal stories with objective fact. The reality is very different. Did I learn anything new? Not really. Was I entertained? Only a little. The result is a show asking one question louder than all others: what was the point?

Three Billion Letters plays at Riverside Studios until 17th August. Tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Every Great Man

Published on August 12, 2025August 11, 2025 by Ben BreenLeave a comment

Great chemistry fuels this sizzling portrait of friendship, love, and wedding-day doubt

Right as she’s about to walk down the aisle, Alex (Rachel McKay) dashes off to her bridal suite and refuses to come out. Having dragged best friend and maid of honour Grace (Lauren Lewis) along in her wake, Every Great Man centres around the duo’s attempts to talk things out as her husband waits at the altar – is this just a case of last-minute nerves, or something more? Along the way they delve into their own friendship, in a narrative as funny as it is dramatic. The result is a very real portrait of contemporary womanhood.

It all starts with an offhand comment from the best man the night before – the aphorism that gives the show its title: “behind every great man lies a great woman”. Sparking Alex’s long-buried insecurities about whether she’s living her life to the fullest, this lights a fuse that detonates just as the organist is tuning up. This prompts a flash back to the day Alex and Grace became friends, bonding over the drawings they’d done and the ‘naughty words’ they overheard their fathers say.

This sets up Every Great Man’s structure, oscillating between the dramatic present-day church conversations and more comic memories of friendship. These changes in time are clearly delineated by the clever repositioning of furniture onstage, and there are an impressive number of props and sound cues employed for a piece of fringe theatre. McKay and Lewis embody their younger selves adroitly, painting a believable portrait of growing up in the early 2000s.

The more dramatic flashbacks stumble, however, by trying to cram too much into one scene. It’s almost as if the script was trying to work through a checklist of the prime causes of teenage angst: a single scene covers a possible eating disorder; concerns over flirting with an older guy; the perilous thrill of sexting; and doubts about sexuality. These scenes are always engaging, but each idea could make up an act of the play in itself and so is only superficially explored. Consequently, Every Great Man’s first half feels a little muddled, and lacks a satisfying dramatic payoff.

By contrast, when the second half gets its teeth into the other relationship here – between the bride and groom – it makes for some powerful drama. The entrance of husband Dylan (Samuel Warren) imbues each conversation with tension as the audience grapples with whose side they’re on. Dylan’s teenage self in flashback is a charming mix of insecurity and youthful arrogance, and his present-day form seethes with a believable frustration. But he also has a worrying tendency to cut Alex off mid-thought, and is dismissive of her friendship with Grace.

The first half of Every Great Man is a love letter to female friendship which could explore its emotions in more depth, whilst its second half is a combustible kitchen-sink drama with a satisfying payoff. The mix of comedy and emotion is effective, reinforcing the audience’s investment in the narrative playing out onstage, and the characters themselves. Alex and Dylan’s big day is well worth peeking into, making for a funny and affecting production.