IN CONVERSATION WITH: Duo Eunioa


We sat down with Duo Eunioa for a quick chat about their upcoming performances at the Royal Albert Hall. For ticketing and info, please find here and here.


How do poetry and visual art shape the way you listen to each other as a duo, beyond simply influencing repertoire choices?

All art reshapes how we perceive the world, so it inevitably reshapes how we listen to one another. Poetry and visual art don’t just influence our repertoire choices; they shape the quality of our attention. We are both very visual thinkers, and when discovering new music, it often sparks vivid inner imagery (colours, landscapes, gestures…) which we share as a way of finding a shared emotional language. Instead of discussing only dynamics or articulation, we might ask: does this feel like shadow or light? If this melody was a person, how or who would they be? Poetry deepens that dialogue further. We reflect on why certain words move us so profoundly, and then ask how we can create an equally powerful emotional resonance through sound alone.

What does the idea of “eunoia” — beautiful thinking — mean to you in the context of a live performance?

Although eunoia (from ancient Greek) literally translates as “beautiful thinking,” for us it speaks more deeply of connection, about the harmony that arises when people meet with openness and empathy. In performance, it becomes an intention. We aim to create a space where listeners feel safe to experience the music in their own way, and where their reflections, emotions and imagery are welcomed rather than prescribed. It is about inviting presence in a world that so often encourages distraction, and encouraging connection: to ourselves, to one another, and to the moment we are sharing. And for us on stage, it also means granting each other the freedom to be fully authentic: to take risks, to listen generously, and to explore our creativity without fear.

In an intimate morning setting like the Elgar Room, how does the audience’s presence subtly alter your musical dialogue?

Intimate venues have always felt like home to us. In a smaller space, something softens, for performers and listeners alike. The atmosphere becomes less formal, less performative, and more human. We sense breathing, stillness, even subtle shifts in attention, and that awareness inevitably shapes how we play. It feels less like presenting something to an audience and more like experiencing something with them. As performers, we feel that the intimacy of a setting like the Elgar Room invites authenticity. When people feel at ease, the musical dialogue becomes more honest, spontaneous, and connected.

How do you balance inviting close, reflective listening while still allowing space for spontaneity and surprise in performance?

Playing together for five years has given us something invaluable: trust born of time shared. That shared history means we often anticipate one another instinctively. There are moments in rehearsal when one of us does something unexpectedly, and the other anticipates it, as if the thought had already been shared. Because we know each other so deeply, we can take risks safely. With repertoire that has grown familiar over the years, we feel free to play and reshape it differently each time. With new works, there is the thrill of discovery, especially as we’re drawn to music that is rarely performed, unrecorded, or that has been arranged by us. Without a blueprint to follow, we create from a “blank canvas”. Throughout it all, close, reflective listening remains our anchor, the foundation that allows spontaneity to flourish.

 What considerations go into shaping a relaxed performance so it remains artistically rich while being genuinely accessible?

For us, “relaxed” never means simplified; it means removing the fear of a “wrong” reaction. We want audiences to know they can move, respond and experience the music in ways that feel natural to them. By welcoming that freedom, we honour the diversity of how people listen and engage. Our work in community settings, from schools to dementia care homes and mental health facilities, has deeply shaped this approach. It has taught us to be adaptable and attentive, sometimes incorporating interactive elements, while still preserving the artistic integrity of the programme. Our spoken introductions remain central in all our performances, relaxed or not, offering context and invitation rather than instruction. We are naturally drawn to shorter pieces rich in imagery and atmosphere, which transcend background or training. In our experience, imagination is universal.

 As emerging artists, how do you see interdisciplinary inspiration helping redefine what a classical concert experience can be?

We love drawing inspiration from other disciplines, often designing performances and workshops that weave music with visual art, poetry, and mindfulness. These interdisciplinary elements enrich the experience, opening doors to imagination and emotional reflection. Yet, we are acutely aware of living in a world overflowing with constant input and distraction. Our goal is to slow down, offering audiences the chance to disconnect and be fully present. That’s why we are careful not to overwhelm the music with other forms. Music alone has a profound ability to reach the depths of the soul, and for that, full immersion is essential. Interdisciplinary inspiration becomes a support, not a distraction, guiding the listener toward presence, connection, and the transformative power of sound.

FEATURE: From Myth to Musical – The Promise and Potential of Sea Witch


Whenever a new musical arrives on the scene there is a particular sense of anticipation. Amid a West End landscape dominated by long-running favourites and familiar “extension announced” headlines, the promise of an original story finding its voice on stage still carries a certain thrill. That sense of possibility surrounded the concert presentation of Sea Witch at Theatre Royal Drury Lane, a one-night showcase designed to generate excitement and momentum towards a future full production. On that front, it succeeded. The event created genuine buzz and curiosity around what this new musical might become.

Based on the young adult novel by Sarah Henning, Sea Witch explores the now familiar storytelling device of revisiting a villain’s origins. Much like the narrative re-framings popularised by works such as Maleficent or the stage phenomenon Wicked, the story asks what might lie behind the legend. Here, the focus is Evie, a witch trying to survive in a world where magic is outlawed. When her path collides with Annemette, a mermaid guarding secrets of her own, both are propelled towards a destiny that reshapes the myth audiences think they know.

It is an intriguing premise, though the storytelling occasionally struggles beneath the weight of its own mythology. With multiple characters, shifting allegiances and a detailed fantasy world to establish, the narrative sometimes becomes convoluted, leaving the central trajectory of Ursula’s transformation slightly obscured. In this concert staging the story could linger in places, creating moments where the pacing stalled rather than building momentum. Some tightening and streamlining would help sharpen the emotional journey and ensure the central relationships land with greater clarity.

The score, with music and lyrics by Segun Fawole, contains several striking moments. Songs such as “Every Woman”, “There’s a Woman” and “Wonder” stand out, carrying real emotional weight and offering glimpses of the musical’s potential. Others, including “Glory” and “Myths of Maritime”, felt more extended than necessary in this format. Part of this may be a consequence of the concert presentation itself; numbers that appear to build towards visual moments, such as Evie discovering her powers, inevitably feel incomplete without the staging and theatrical effects that would bring those moments fully to life.

Elsewhere, songs like “Queen” and “Untoppable” are undeniably enjoyable but carry echoes of contemporary musical theatre hits such as Six and Wicked. While these influences are hardly surprising in modern musical theatre, further developing a distinctive sonic identity would help Sea Witchstand apart and strengthen its ambition to become a major new musical.

The cast assembled for the evening ensured strong audience interest. Jay McGuiness drew a sizeable crowd and delivered a heartfelt performance as Iker, though the vocal demands alongside the choreography occasionally stretched the performance. Natalie Paris brought sincerity and warmth to Evie, grounding the character with a thoughtful musical theatre performance that helped anchor the emotional core of the story.

As Nik, Djavan Van de Fliert embodied the archetypal handsome prince, though the performance at times leaned towards exaggeration, perhaps an attempt to fill the narrative gaps left by the concert format. The inclusion of high-profile names such as Michelle Visage and Mazz Murray added star power, though their characters felt comparatively underdeveloped within the story presented here.

One of the evening’s strongest performances came from Amy Di Bartolomeo as Annemette, delivering a confident and engaging turn that hinted at a deeper relationship between Annemette and Evie than the script currently allows. With so many characters in play, focusing more intently on a few key relationships would strengthen the storytelling and ensure pivotal plot developments feel fully earned.

A special mention must also go to the dancers and backing vocalists, whose lyrical choreography created a striking visual accompaniment to the music. Even within the limitations of a concert format, their presence added energy and theatricality.

There is undeniable potential within Sea Witch. The concept taps into contemporary fascination with re-examining villains and reclaiming misunderstood identities. Yet to realise the scale of spectacle the story seems to demand, the show would benefit from significant streamlining and development. With refinement, and perhaps a slightly leaner running time taking it under the two-and-a-half-hour mark, this mythic origin story could evolve into something genuinely distinctive.

For now, the buzz generated by this first outing suggests that audiences are ready to dive deeper into its dark waters. The next stage of the journey will determine just how powerful this new musical can become.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Clive Lyttle

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Clive Lyttle, Artistic Director and Founder of Certain Blacks. They return with Black Athena Festival, a cross-disciplinary programme bringing together artists who push beyond conventional art forms.

This festival runs between RichMix and the Place between March and April – Tickets here


How does the Art Ensemble of Chicago’s ethos behind Certain Blacks continue to inform your curatorial and political thinking today?

The ideas I took from The Art Ensemble of Chicago have been about Black political resistance and pride through art, freedom and excellence. We have been lucky enough to work with LT Beauchamp known as Chicago Beau who played on the Art Ensemble of Chicago’s album Certain Blacks, which we are named after, and we also worked with artists form Chicago’s The Association for the Advancement of Creative Musician collective with the Katalyst Conversation. The idea that “Certain Blacks do what they want to”, lyrics from the album, struck me and allowed us to develop our curatorial practice.

What does engaging with Martin Bernal’s Black Athena offer contemporary audiences that more familiar cultural histories do not?

Exploring the idea of alternatives to the current cultural thinking. The festival includes pieces that are based on music and movement and not just the spoken words of Shakespeare or moods cast by Chekov. The festival includes a new commission via Kimpavita Festival in Dakar called Rising Mirrors / Miroirs en ascension / Kitalatala ya ntombua exploring the experiences of Congolese women who refuse to be subdued. The festival also contains the work Graffiti Bodies XV inspired by the work of Jean-Michel Basquiat’s 1981 painting La Hara plus Ronin looking at duel heritage through dance and marital arts. All of these works challenge traditional narratives within debates around culture and the nature of civilisation.

As part of tour partnership with Kimpa Vita in Dakar, I got to visit The Island of Goree off the coast of Senegal. This was a slave island from which my ancestors were shipped across the Atlantic as property. The ideas of “The Enlightenment” are central in allowing the slave trade to depict Black people as “Uncivilised”. Africa was often seen as the dark continent but when you visit, there are thriving countries and civilisations that span thousands of years and this festival has allowed us to touch upon these differing civilisations within Africa and in the case of Ronin, Japan.

How has your background in outdoor events and contemporary circus shaped your ideas around access and who art is for?

Working in Circus and Outdoor arts provides a platform of knowledge non-verbal performance. I’m a musician by practice and have also worked in theatre and dance. Circus allows me to look beyond forms where knowledge of language is important in understanding text-based theatre. When you work with Chekov you’re hearing words and looking for meanings which may be hidden, and you need an understanding of the language it is performed in. However, Circus and Outdoor arts are international. I’ve recently visited Tiawan, Japan and Senegal to see new shows with no understanding of Chinese, Japanese or French (Senegal). Certain Blacks is a member of Circostrada a European network for outdoor arts and circus and this enables us to meet, and work with, artists across Europe and internationally!! However, I’m now determined to improve my very bad French!!

Why is it important for Black Athena Festival to foreground difference rather than consensus in today’s UK cultural landscape?

It is the difference that makes the UK so culturally interesting. Black music and dance is now central to UK life, but we live in a current world of “Reform”, which to me, challenges the notion of being British. I was born in Lewisham Hospital just like the actor Delroy Lindo. This is where my mother worked as a midwife for most of her life and it’s the hospital where she died. We need to champion difference and creativity and showcase what cultural difference has bought to the UK over the past centuries.

What made Dam Van Huynh and Elaine Mitchener’s Graffiti Bodies XV feel central to this edition of the festival?

The work of Dam Van Huynh and Elaine Mitchener are part of the ongoing dialogue of what work can be made by diverse artists and it challenges the ideas of Black Dance, music creation and performance. I saw Van Huynh’s work Moving Eastman at the Barbican last year which highlights the work of composer Julius Eastman. This was shown through music and movement so I wanted to work with the company.

When moving work “from the margins to the mainstream,” how do you avoid losing what makes it radical?

Artists we’ve worked with have resulted in Certain Blacks commissions such as Sadiq Ali’s Tell Me And Crying in the Wilderness – Best Friends have gone on to take centre stage at The Place and Park Theatres. Similarly, Holy Dirt from Thirunarayan Productions, directed by David Glass is a Certain Blacks commission which has just been commissioned by Without Walls and will be at the Brighton Festival shows how the work we support can appear on mainstream stages and festivals and move “from the margins to the mainstream”

REVIEW: Talking People – Feb 16th


Rating: 4 out of 5.

Enjoyable evening of co-creation in a refreshing and entertaining format, brilliantly executed by the Talking People team.


Walking into Underbelly Boulevard, expectations were unclear, but the director swiftly set the tone with a punchy and relatable introduction. A reminder that everyone in the room is human, that humour is subjective and that no offence is intended established an atmosphere of generosity and collaboration. What followed was a genuinely shared theatrical experience, shaped live by cast, director and audience. Talking People tells stories through directed improvisation, with lightly prepared characters and narratives built in the moment using audience prompts, a Bag of Pain, relationship cards and the director’s guiding hand.

This performance featured Aliyah Odoffin (All My Sons), Will Merrick (F1), Alexander Theo (Dreaming Whilst Black), Amelia Clarkson (Red Rose) and Elisha Applebaum (Fate: The Winx Saga). Initial nerves gradually gave way to confidence as the story took shape.

The narrative centred primarily on Tony, played by Merrick, and John, played by Theo, and their relationship. Through sustained audience questioning, the first half became an intense examination of the two men, inadvertently sidelining the three female characters. Structured as a panel discussion with the cast seated and interrogated by the audience, this format offered strong foundations for character development but left the women comparatively underexplored.

Odoffin engaged most readily with the dynamic, using audience interaction to deepen Rhia and integrate her more fully into the central relationship. Applebaum’s choice to present a character already settled and secure limited opportunities for dramatic tension, while Clarkson’s more guarded portrayal of Zoe, though believable, constrained the character’s capacity for growth. Whether this imbalance stemmed from audience focus, directorial steering or differing levels of improvisational ease remains open to question, and it would be intriguing to see how the balance shifts on another evening.

Merrick handled sustained scrutiny with assurance, though a late decision to define Tony as fully gay created narrative complications that required some backtracking to permit interconnected storylines with the female characters. Theo was the standout of the night, embodying John with emotional clarity and physical conviction. His performance extended beyond sharp answers to audience questions; the character felt lived in and empathetically drawn.

The second half, shorter and more traditionally staged, unfolded in a flat setting with minimal audience interaction until the end. Here, the material generated in the first hour was dramatised into a cohesive scenario. The shift in format clarified the story and allowed the emotional consequences of earlier revelations to land with greater weight.

While the production is billed as an exploration of seeking answers in the cold and chaotic world of the internet, this strand felt underdeveloped. A reference to AI-generated pornography appeared somewhat shoehorned and lacked depth. In truth, the evening’s strength lies less in commentary on digital culture and more in its examination of relationships, perception and the often unheard voices on the sidelines.

As an experience, the show succeeds. It is lively, engaging and consistently fresh, with each performance existing only in the moment it is created. The comedy tends towards sharp, fleeting observations rather than enduring set pieces, but that ephemerality is part of the appeal. The lasting impression is not of a standout story but of shared humanity, spontaneity and connection.

Catch Talking People on 9th March at Shoreditch House with a later show in late April to be announced. Follow them on Instagram here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Michael David Glover

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Michael David Glover, co-creator and writer of new musical Sea Witch. This new musical reimagines the origins of one of the sea’s most feared villains – a prequel inspired by The Little Mermaid, it follows Evie, a witch surviving in a world where magic is outlawed.

This show runs for one night only on 1st March at Theatre Royal Drury Lane – Tickets here


Sea Witch reframes a classic villain as a protagonist — what excites you about asking audiences to question who gets labelled “evil” and why?

I’ve always been fascinated with what happens before the moment in a story. Whether that’s a moment in history, in pop culture, or in fiction… I’m always reading books and dying to write the story before! 

That’s what excites me about Sea Witch. In the original Hans Christian Andersen tale, the Sea Witch barely gets the space to exist… she’s a plot device, not a person. Sarah Henning cracked that open and asked the far more interesting question: what if the villain label isn’t truth… what if it’s branding? What if it’s what happens when a woman doesn’t behave the way the world wants her to, or when her power can’t be controlled?

This musical lets us watch the narrative being built in real time. How fear, lies, and self-preservation can turn someone into a warning story. And I love putting an audience in that position where they have to sit there and realise maybe “evil” isn’t a fixed identity. Maybe it’s the story we tell when we don’t want to admit what we took from someone to make them that way.

When adapting Sarah Henning’s novel for the stage, what felt essential to preserve, and where did musical theatre allow you to go further emotionally or thematically?

What felt essential to preserve was the emotional history baked into the world and the characters. Henning builds a timeline shaped by fear, drawing on real witch-hunting trials and imagining the long shadow they cast over generations. Evie lives in a world where magic has been outlawed and even the smallest slip could mean death. That tension, existing while hiding, felt non-negotiable. It’s what gives the story its pulse.

What struck me most when reading the novel was that everyone arrives carrying baggage. Nothing starts clean. Relationships are already fractured, loyalties already tested, and the past is constantly pressing in on the present. Preserving those deep-rooted connections became the emotional spine of the musical. While the plot had to be streamlined for the stage, the weight of those histories, and the damage they cause, was something I was determined not to lose.

Musical theatre then allowed us to go further. Songs give voice to what characters can’t safely say out loud. They let contradiction, desire, fear, and rage exist simultaneously. Writing Sea Witch as a musical meant carving the story through both scene and song, using music to expose inner worlds, and scenes to deal with the fallout. That collaboration, walking the story together with the composer and director, is where the adaptation really unlocked something new. The result isn’t just a retelling, it’s an emotional expansion of the story.

Despite significant streamlining… early drafts were so plot dense, there could have been Sea Witch told in two parts, a spin-off tv series, and a podcast… the musical allowed moments where characters such as Queen Charlotte and Tante Hansa (played by the delightful Mazz Murray and iconic Michelle Visage) to have further development. This is where the medium of musical allows the audience into their thoughts and feelings more deeply. 

This story centres on identity, sacrifice, and outlawed magic — how consciously were you drawing parallels with contemporary ideas of otherness and power?

Absolutely aware! That’s one of the reasons I’m drawn to fantasy. It lets you talk about power, fear, and control without pointing a finger. Everything can be heightened, but it still lands emotionally. Sea Witch is written to be deliberately universal, because the feeling of being labelled “other” isn’t owned by one group, it’s something a lot of people recognise in many different ways.

For me, outlawed magic becomes a metaphor for any part of yourself you’re told to hide in order to survive. Evie lives in a world where denying who she is feels safer than existing openly, and that tension drives every choice she makes. Certain people are expected to give up parts of themselves so the world can stay comfortable.

What excites me is watching the power shift. The moment Evie stops shrinking herself, the rules change. Sea Witch isn’t about becoming someone new, it’s about reclaiming what was always there, and questioning who benefits when power decides which identities are acceptable and which are dangerous.

A large part of the ethos of Evie has been the heart of this show. It’s been an uphill battle to bring this project to where it is today. The heavy lifting of rejection, disbelief in the work, and the judgement of trying to step into the spotlight of creating your own work.

As a writer creating a brand-new musical at this scale, how did you balance mythic storytelling with making the characters feel urgently modern and human?

It all began with knowing exactly who the characters are, what they want, and what they’re willing to sacrifice to get it. The mythology gives the story scale, but the humanity comes from very simple, recognisable questions: how far would you go to protect yourself, and what would you become if the world kept pushing you there?

We really interrogate what “villain” even means. Every character in Sea Witch plays a role in shaping the path that leads to the Sea Witch’s creation, and none of them are exempt from that responsibility. I wanted the audience to recognise themselves in those moments… not in a comfortable way, but in a way that makes you pause and think about your own thresholds.

Writing with the audience in mind was crucial. I was constantly asking: what do they expect here, and how can I both honour that and subvert it? Myth gives you permission to go big, but the emotional truth must feel sincere. My hope is that people leave the theatre not just entertained, but quietly unsettled, questioning what choices they might have made if they’d been standing in the same place as these characters.

The show promises a bold, genre-pushing sound and visual language — how did that ambition shape the way you approached the book and dramatic structure?

It allowed me the freedom to not think, “how could this fit into a traditional proscenium theatre?” I’ve been lucky to work in Las Vegas where spectacle rules. It taught me that size and scale should not be feared but brought into more narrative lead theatre where audiences expect more from the stage. Working with our director Kristopher Russell, our composer Segun Fawole and choreographer Dean Lee, it was important to bring the worlds of spectacle theatre, music and live concerts into the traditional theatre space. We had many conversations of showstopping live concerts and what builds excitement for an audience. Sea Witch is a product of my theatre upbringing, my love for music, and the electricity that concerts provide to audiences.

You’ve described Sea Witch as “unapologetic” — what risks were you most determined not to dilute in order to make this musical truly its own?

There’s a line Evie says “This is who you made me.” That moment is the spine of the show for me. It’s the point where she stops trying to be palatable, stops explaining herself, and fully owns who she is. Someone they fear and hate but she’s a product of their judgement and resentment. There’s no apology in that moment, no reaching for redemption or permission. It’s her no-turning-back point.

The biggest risk was who was the character we wanted to leave the audience with at the end of the show. We went back and forth asking whether we should deliver the audience with the rambunctious character we’ve come to know the Sea Witch as or give this woman depth and reason. The former felt pantomime or the easy way out. The heart of the story is that long before the Sea Witch, there was a girl. And we wanted to have this deeply layered character that people could connect to. Allowing the audience a moment to see a character in the iconic scene with the little mermaid, but now with perspective. We see why she helps this mermaid, for everyone deserves a chance at love, but why she asks for her voice. For history shows her the cost of the lies we tell.

REVIEW: Shadowlands


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Tender, beautifully acted exploration of late-found love and devastating loss results in a profoundly moving evening of theatre


Shadowlands arrives in London as a quietly devastating meditation on love, loss and the fragile architecture of an ordered life undone by grief. Directed by Rachel Kavanaugh and transferred from its Chichester origins to the Aldwych Theatre, this production explores the late-in-life romance between writer C. S. Lewis and poet Joy Davidman with delicacy and emotional precision.

At its centre is a relationship drawn with impressive nuance. Lewis, portrayed by Hugh Bonneville, begins as a man of intellectual certainty whose carefully structured world is disrupted by Davidman’s arrival. Maggie Siff presents Joy as sharp, unsentimental and brilliantly articulate, a woman unwilling to be overshadowed by Lewis’s reputation. Their chemistry is persuasive, charting a progression from rigorous friendship to a love that feels both hard won and deeply human. Joy’s emotional openness contrasts poignantly with Lewis’s tentative, fearful approach to intimacy, a tension that heightens as illness intrudes and the stakes become heartbreakingly clear.

The production’s emotional focus rests squarely on this central pairing, a choice that largely serves the play well. However, Douglas, Joy’s young son, performed on the reviewed evening by a confident, charming Ayrton English, receives comparatively limited development. While a late scene delivers genuine emotional force, earlier interactions feel somewhat one-dimensional. The evolving bond between Lewis and the child, particularly given Lewis’s association with imaginative storytelling beloved by Douglas, suggests dramatic possibilities that remain only partially realised. A fleeting nod to The Magician’s Nephew offers a charming connection to Lewis’s literary world, yet this thread could have been woven more fully into the narrative.

Supporting performances add texture and warmth. Jeff Rawle brings gentle humour and compassion to Warnie, Lewis’s brother, functioning as both comic relief and an empathetic confidant. The ensemble, notably large for a play that often feels like an intimate two hander, executes seamless transitions that maintain the story’s momentum.

Visually, the staging is elegant and restrained. Designer Peter McKintosh frames the action with towering bookshelves and a reflective mirrored backdrop that subtly conceals hints of Narnian woodland. A softly glowing lamppost evokes the world of The Chronicles of Narnia without overwhelming the realism of the drama. Fluid set changes, aided by a rotating centrepiece and the coordinated movement of the cast, effectively mark the passage of time.

Some audiences may find the pacing uneven. The gradual evolution of the central romance is afforded generous space, while the subsequent years of shared happiness pass swiftly, leaving only glimpses of Lewis’s growth as husband and father. A fuller exploration of this period might have deepened the emotional resonance of the play’s final movements.

Even so, this production remains profoundly affecting. It navigates themes of cancer, grief and the unexpected arrival of love with sensitivity and intelligence, offering a portrait of companionship that feels both intimate and universal. The result is a moving and thoughtfully crafted evening of theatre that earned its standing ovation and lingers long after the curtain falls.

This show runs at The Aldwych Theatre until 9th May. Tickets here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Elena Beltrami

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Elena Beltrami who shares insights into the festival’s legacy and the thinking behind centring female artists in its programming.

This festival runs from 20th April – 6th May – Tickets here.


1. After 26 years of La Linea, what feels most urgent about centring female artists in the festival’s 2026 programme?
After 26 years, La Linea has grown into an inclusive space where we can genuinely pause and ask: who still isn’t being seen enough? In recent years, through our work across different scenes in Latin America and its diaspora, it’s become very clear just how many incredible women are shaping sounds, scenes and movements, often without the same visibility or platforms as their male counterparts. Centring female artists in 2026 feels urgent because this is where so much of the energy, experimentation and future-thinking in Latin music is happening right now. We’re especially proud to present two UK-based, female-led projects this year, including the fourth edition of Latinas of London with Desta French, Allexa Nava and Xativa, showcasing some of the most exciting Latin female artists in the UK, alongside Las Salseras, a nine-piece, all-female salsa band led by Eliane Correa.

2. A 90% female line-up is still rare in global festivals — was this a radical decision or a natural evolution of La Linea’s values?
It honestly feels like a natural progression. La Linea has always evolved in response to the cultural moment. In 2025, for example, we consciously leaned into a more queer-centred line-up, reflecting what we were seeing creatively and politically within the Latin music world. The 2026 programme continues that journey. The percentage might look radical on paper, but the decision came very organically from the artists we were most excited about programming.

3. How does La Linea balance celebrating Latin music heritage while pushing audiences toward new, boundary-breaking voices?
We’ve always seen heritage as something living, not fixed. Latin music has never been static, it’s constantly absorbing influences, mutating and responding to social change. Our programming reflects that approach: we honour legacy by giving space to artists who are reworking traditions, challenging expectations and pushing back against the stereotypes Latin music is often subjected to. This year’s line-up includes artists like young Peruvian singer Renata Flores, who performs in Quechua, honouring her Andean roots, alongside the Barbican’s Colombian Queens programme, where artists such as Adriana Lucía and Nidia Góngora represent Caribbean and Pacific sound traditions, while La Muchacha brings a younger, more activist voice from the contemporary Colombian scene. That dialogue between past and future has always been central to La Linea’s identity.

4. In the context of wider festival trends, what responsibility do curators have in reshaping who gets visibility and why?
Curators play a huge role, whether they acknowledge it or not. Every line-up sends a message about what — and who — matters. For us, it’s about paying attention to what’s really happening on the ground, rather than reproducing the same hierarchies year after year. It’s also important to give visibility to talented artists that brings music quality who might not be mainstream. If festivals want to stay relevant, they need to reflect real cultural shifts, not just musical trends — and act as platforms where audiences can both see artists they love and discover new ones.

5. How does London’s multicultural identity influence the way La Linea programmes Latin music differently from festivals elsewhere?
London gives us a very particular lens. The city is full of diasporic stories, hybrid identities and cross-genre conversations, and that naturally shapes how we programme. Latin music here doesn’t exist in isolation, it’s constantly interacting with electronic music, jazz, club culture, and experimental scenes. That openness and inclusivity allows La Linea to present Latin music as expansive and evolving, rather than boxed into expectations.

6. Looking ahead, what do you hope La Linea’s legacy will represent for future generations of artists and audiences?
I’d love La Linea to be remembered as a festival that wasn’t afraid to listen, shift and change, while always keeping the quality of the music and the artists at its centre. A festival that reflected its time, supported boundary-pushing artists and helped audiences discover new ways of engaging with Latin music. Most importantly, one that made the community it represents feel proud, welcome and genuinely reflected. If future generations see La Linea as a platform that made space — especially when space wasn’t being offered elsewhere — then we’ve done something meaningful.

REVIEW: I Do


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

An emotive, honest insight into the chaos before “I do”.


Dante or Die’s I Do, revived as part of the company’s 20th anniversary season and presented in partnership with the Barbican, is an immersive theatre experience that places audiences directly inside the emotional pressure cooker of a wedding day. Staged across six hotel rooms in the Malmaison near Farringdon, the production unfolds in the fraught 15 minutes before Georgina and Tunde’s ceremony is due to begin. From the moment you enter, there is a palpable sense of suspended time: a corridor thick with anticipation, urgency and nerves as audience members are quietly shuffled from door to door.

Each room reveals a different fragment of the wedding party’s inner lives. Parents, children, partners and friends are caught in moments of doubt, resentment, love and longing, their stories overlapping as the clock ticks relentlessly towards the ceremony. Writer Chloë Moss’s script is unflinchingly honest about everyday relationships, and creators Daphna Attias and Terry O’Donovan have transformed a familiar, almost banal life event into something intimate and deeply engaging. Direction by Attias is particularly assured, allowing scenes to play with emotional clarity while making imaginative use of the hotel rooms themselves. The staging, led by meticulous stage management, ensures each space feels lived-in and specific, rich with detail that quietly extends the storytelling.

That attention to detail is, paradoxically, also one of the show’s frustrations. With around a dozen audience members packed into each room, scenes can feel cramped, and the rapid movement between spaces leaves little time to absorb the carefully placed props and environmental storytelling. A few extra minutes either side of scenes, or slightly smaller audience groups, would allow the immersive world to breathe and be fully taken in. On the night attended, the performance also ran almost half an hour over its advertised running time, but I imagine this will be addressed as the company finds its feet in its new home.

Performances across the cast are strong, with Manish Gandhi’s Joe standing out for his emotional precision and restraint. Fred Fergus’s Nick is compelling, though occasionally feels like a character who could benefit from greater depth. One of the most affecting scenes belongs to Geof Atwell and Fiona Watson as Gordon and Eileen, whose portrayal of a declining grandfather and his partner is so raw that it visibly moved an audience member to tears. These moments are often confronting and isolating – there is no distance here, no way to escape – and every other audience member’s breath, glance and reaction shapes your own experience of the story.

The Cleaner, played on this occasion by Terry O’Donovan, functions as a connective thread between scenes. While the role is conceptually effective, his repeated presence in the already crowded corridor sometimes denies the audience a moment of quiet reflection between emotionally heavy encounters. A brief pause to reset might heighten, rather than diffuse, the impact of the next scene that follows.

Ultimately, I Do is a fascinating study of ordinariness: a deeply human exploration of marriage, family and the expectations we place on one another. It gently but persistently asks what marriage means – and doesn’t mean – to its characters and, by extension, to the audience themselves. Despite minor logistical issues, this revival remains a novel, affecting and worthwhile experience, offering immersive theatre at its most intimate and emotionally resonant.

This show runs at Malmaison until 8th February before embarking on a short tour. Programme here.

FEATURE: Jonathan Bailey and Ariana Grande to Lead New Sunday in the Park with George at the Barbican

Two of the most influential performers working today will lead a major new London revival of Stephen Sondheim’s Sunday in the Park with George, with Jonathan Bailey and Ariana Grande announced to star when the production opens at the Barbican Centre in Summer 2027.

The musical, widely regarded as one of Sondheim’s most intellectually ambitious works, will be directed by Marianne Elliott, with design by Tom Scutt. Together, the creative team signals a production positioned firmly at the intersection of classical musical theatre and contemporary cultural relevance.

First premiered in 1984, Sunday in the Park with George explores the act of artistic creation through the life of painter Georges Seurat and the legacy of his work across generations. Its themes – ambition, isolation, intimacy, and the personal cost of creativity – feel newly resonant in an era defined by visibility, pressure, and the demand for constant output.

Bailey brings extensive stage experience alongside recent global screen success, while Grande continues to expand her acting career following her acclaimed performance in Wicked. Their pairing suggests a production that speaks both to established theatre audiences and to a broader generation encountering Sondheim through new voices.

The Barbican, increasingly central to London’s most high-profile and formally adventurous theatre work, provides a fitting setting for a musical that resists easy categorisation – emotional without sentimentality, rigorous without austerity.

Tickets for the season will go on sale in May 2026, with further creative and casting details to be announced. To be the first to hear details and all further information about the production, sign-up at www.sundayintheparkmusical.com.

As major artists from different disciplines converge on one of Sondheim’s defining works, this new Sunday in the Park with George looks set to become a significant cultural event in the London theatre calendar.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Terry O’Donovan

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Terry O’Donovan, co-creator (alongside Dapha Attias) of I Do, which returns on a UK tour in 2026 to mark the 20th birthday of Dante or Die. This hugely successful immersive hit, with text by Chloë Moss, celebrates the beautiful mess of human connection — an intricate portrait of love and fear, told through Dante or Die’s signature blend of intimacy, detail, and cinematic theatricality.

Full tour details and ticket links below but I Do opens in London on 20th January until 8th February


What made now the right moment to revisit I DO, and what does this revival reveal about how your artistic thinking has evolved over 20 years?

As we approached turning 20 it’s been impossible not to reflect. When we first mentioned reviving a show to celebrate this anniversary, Daphna and I immediately said I Do. It felt like I Do was a gear shift for us. Our work previously had our hearts on our sleeves, it had a distinctive approach to choreography of space and audience, and an energy that brought audiences on physical journeys that was driving the work. 

When we made I Do in 2013 we knew that we wanted story and dialogue to match those elements. At that moment in time, I had recently married in Belgium as same-sex marriage was legal there, and still not legal in the UK; and Daphna was pregnant with her second child and didn’t want to get married despite familial and societal pressure. So many of our friends were starting families and choosing whether or not to get married. All of this led us into a constant stream of conversations about weddings, relationships, the meaning of commitment . At the same time we’re interrogating the legalities that ‘protect’ a married couple. The live experience is visceral, detailed and incredibly intimate with the theatricality of repeating action despite the up close, hyper naturalistic performance style. We’ve always loved the synchronicity between site, story, form and content. We’ve never revived a production before. So doing it now, with 12 years of growing up for Daphna, Chloë and I means that we’re re-evaluating the stories we’d originally told, and digging deeper. 

We’ve also created a trainee scheme for the production. We have 4 early career trainees – a director, producer, stage manager and performer. We wanted to create opportunities that we would have liked to have when we were starting out 20 years ago.

How has your relationship to site-specific storytelling shifted as audiences have become more fluent in immersive forms?

That’s an interesting question. Our early influences were companies like Shunt and Grid Iron. Our early work placed the physical experience and journey at the heart of the work. But I Do was a conscious shift for us – we wanted to match that physical experience to the emotional heart of the shows we were making. So, I’d say our relationship with site based storytelling has become more emotional or tied into the personal and social relationships we have with space. 

In re-staging I DO, what new perspectives have emerged from returning to a story designed to be seen from multiple angles at once?

The joy of I DO is that the form of seeing stories from different perspectives is totally married with the human experiences. Each room has a beginning, middle and end in itself but your perspective on particular characters’ actions or decisions changes as you make your way through all of the rooms and understand the reasons behind them. It’s a real exercise in looking at how we make decisions or take action as affected by others. 

We’ve worked with Chloë to heighten this for specific characters this time round – particularly the groom and father of the bride. There is a pregnancy storyline that has become sharper and gives us more insight into the character involved. It’s been brilliant to have an opportunity to push these narratives further.

How do you maintain emotional intimacy when your work asks audiences to navigate complex, multi-room environments?

Being so close to the characters as they are in such intimate moments brings audiences in, then it’s the cast maintaining the truth of the moment and allowing the audience to feel like it’s happening right in front of their eyes. The fly on the wall nature of the show creates such a freedom for the audience to relax and feel at ease. We notice that as they progress from room to room they relax more and more. Every character is in such a dramatic moment that it allows audiences to quickly empathise. The other joy of this show is that the form – figuring out how it’s all pieced together is as much part of the enjoyment.

What throughline connects early pieces like I DO to recent experiments such as Skin Hunger and User Not Found?

The throughine is human experience connected to the physical worlds we inhabit. They all play with how we behave in public vs private spaces and how they can collide. I DO uncovers a lot of mini dramas in a plush, comfortable environment – but a space that we pay quite a lot to stay in for specific occasions. We really play with how each room gives us a lot of clues about the emotional state of each character – the mother of the bride’s room is hyper organised and very cold despite her being very hot. The best man’s room is chaos.

With User Not Found we were looking at how so many of us exist in private online worlds in public spaces like cafes. We were interested in how our devices now constantly impact our emotions – if you found out that your partner had died through a text message in a café would you reach out to the stranger next to you to ask for help? Or if the stranger next to you saw you crying would they reach out to you?

Skin Hunger was a fascinating piece to make and perform. It took all of these ideas but put the audience in role one-on-one with an audience member. We were really looking at how the fear of touching people and being around others had impacted us all during the pandemic; and also exploring live storytelling at a time when that was not allowed. It was a really fascinating experience – much more visceral and intimate than any other piece of work – there was no audience really, more a series of exchanges. 

Every production we make go through a process of deciding how an audience should experience / encounter the work and that forms a huge part of the dramaturgy – that’s central to all our work. 

As immersive theatre continues to expand commercially and technologically, where do you feel Dante or Die’s ethos most sharply diverges from the wider field?

I think it’s placing the human and emotional experience at the heart of the work. The reason we love telling stories in an ‘immersive’ way is about heightening the emotional and intellectual engagement with the work. I’m always really interested to see other work in this area because there is such potential to capture peoples imaginations in new ways – and I think the physical proximity to audiences, and being immersed in a space gives us an experience that TV and film still can’t do. So that’s at the heart of it for us.

Tues 20 January – Sun 8 February 2026
Malmaison London, 18-21 Charterhouse Square, London, EC1M 6AH
Wed 11– Sat 14 February 2026
Malmaison Reading, 18-20 Station Road, Reading, RG1 1JX
Wed 18 – Sun 22 February 2026
Malmaison Deansgate, 23 Princess Street, Manchester, M2 4ER