REVIEW: A Mirrored Monet


Rating: 3 out of 5.

“One of the strongest Off West End stagings of the year”


Mirrored Monet at Charing Cross Theatre is one of the strongest Off West End stagings of the year, not because it reinvents the musical form, but because it understands exactly how to build a visual world and sustain it with intelligence and taste. From the moment the show begins, the stage is conceived as an Impressionist canvas, with projection design transforming scenes into living paintings. This is especially effective in moments when the production shifts towards the feeling of a gallery space, allowing Monet’s artistic legacy to frame the action without overwhelming it. The result is a staging language that feels carefully studied, aesthetically coherent, and often genuinely beautiful.

The lighting design deserves particular praise. Its soft palette captures an unmistakably Impressionist atmosphere, washing the stage in colours that feel delicate, airy, and painterly. One especially inspired touch comes in the use of church stained glass patterns in the lighting, which brings a sudden richness and texture to the visual composition. It is the kind of detail that lingers in the memory and shows how thoughtfully the creative team have engaged with the painterly world they are evoking. Across the production, design elements work in close harmony, and that sense of visual unity becomes the evening’s greatest strength.

As a biographical musical, Mirrored Monet tells its story clearly and elegantly, but not always compellingly. The difficulty is not confusion, but flatness. The narrative unfolds with care, yet there is too little dramatic conflict, too little escalation, and too little sense of surprise. One keeps waiting for a sharper rupture or a more forceful emotional turning point, but the piece remains restrained to the point of monotony. Given the richness of Monet’s artistic life and the relationships surrounding him, it feels as though there were opportunities for greater dramatic tension that the show chooses not to pursue.

The score suffers from a similar problem. The songs are woven into the storytelling rather than standing apart from it, which is a valid artistic choice, but because the drama itself remains so even in tone, the music rarely lands with distinct force. Very little feels shaped to become a true emotional or musical climax, and few numbers leave a lasting melodic impression once the performance ends.

Still, the cast do excellent work within those limitations. Brooke Bazarian makes a beautiful debut as Camille, bringing a physical grace and presence that suit the role perfectly. There is something almost sacred in her stage bearing, with a sense of purity and poise that makes her deeply believable in the part. Vocally, she is equally impressive, with a rounded, soft, and luminous tone that fits both the character and the production’s aesthetic world.

Natalie Day is another standout, handling the dual roles of Suzanne and Blanche with remarkable fluency. Her transitions between the two women are smooth and clearly defined, and she gives each of them a distinct emotional texture. As the young professional model and friend, and later as Monet’s daughter in law and a frustrated female painter, she brings vitality and contrast to the evening. The scenes between the women are also observed with notable care, adding welcome detail and energy to the storytelling.

In the end, Mirrored Monet is a production of considerable visual accomplishment and committed performances. The creative team have clearly put enormous thought into drawing from Monet’s paintings and translating them into theatrical form. Yet the show never fully escapes the limitations of treating him primarily as a great painter rather than as the centre of a more dramatically shaped story. For all its beauty, it remains too dramatically muted and too musically indistinct to become truly moving.

Mirrored Monet runs at Charing Cross Theatre in London from 14 March to 9 May 2026. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Beautiful Little Fool


Rating: 5 out of 5.

An assured and thoughtful new musical that succeeds not by reinventing its story, but by choosing carefully where to stand within it.


Beautiful Little Fool at Southwark Playhouse Borough is an assured and thoughtful new musical that succeeds not by reinventing its story, but by choosing carefully where to stand within it.

At its core, this is a retelling of Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald’s marriage, a narrative that theatre and literature have returned to many times. What distinguishes this production is its framing. Rather than centring the familiar myth of the male literary genius, the story is filtered largely through Zelda’s perspective, with her daughter Scottie acting as both narrator and emotional anchor. This choice allows the audience to approach Zelda not as a footnote to someone else’s career, but as an artist, a mother, and a woman gradually stripped of agency.

Musically, the show is impressively coherent. The score flows naturally from scene to scene, and the interaction between the cast and the live band is well judged. Songs are placed with a clear sense of narrative purpose, and the musicians feel integrated into the dramatic world rather than added as accompaniment. That said, the score occasionally leans too heavily on lyrical repetition. While repetition can be effective in expressing emotional fixation, here it sometimes slows narrative momentum. A few numbers would benefit from clearer musical peaks rather than extended emotional circling.

The design work makes excellent use of the space. The set is flexible and responsive, allowing scenes to shift smoothly across different physical levels without disrupting the pacing. Lighting plays a key role in shaping atmosphere, particularly through the contrast between cool blues and warmer orange tones, which mark emotional and temporal shifts. Costume design is similarly thoughtful, especially in the visual dialogue between mother and daughter. These details quietly reinforce character relationships without feeling overstated.

One of the production’s strengths lies in its historical specificity. References to the Fitzgeralds’ financial difficulties, literary rivalries, and the cultural milieu of the Jazz Age feel well researched and purposeful. Most effective is the sustained attention given to Zelda’s loss of authorship. The gradual loss of her creative ownership is treated not as a single injustice, but as a process, which gives weight and credibility to her growing frustration.

The portrayal of Zelda’s mental health, and of institutional attitudes toward women at the time, marks the emotional turning point of the show. When this material is finally confronted head on, through an intense and explosive sequence mediated by Scottie’s narration, the musical’s thematic concerns come into sharp focus.

Amy Parker, covering the role of Zelda, brings a lightness of voice and physical grace that suits the character’s early optimism, while allowing space for darker shifts later on. Lauren Ward’s performance as Scottie is a particular highlight. Her delivery is clear, grounded, and emotionally intelligent, giving the production its sense of balance and perspective.

The final moments return unapologetically to the marriage itself. I found this choice effective. Rather than simplifying Zelda’s feelings, the show allows love and damage to coexist, acknowledging that emotional attachment does not disappear simply because it is undeserved.

What ultimately convinced me was how little the show let go of me, even where it was imperfect. I noticed moments where the music lingered longer than it needed to, but I never felt pushed out of the story. Instead, I stayed emotionally with Zelda, particularly in how the production holds love and damage side by side without trying to resolve them. That honesty, and the confidence to trust the audience with it, mattered more to me than polish. For all its small rough edges, this felt like a complete piece of theatre, and one I kept thinking about afterwards.

REVIEW: Nutcracker


Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A thoughtful and imaginative reinterpretation”


The English National Ballet’s new production of The Nutcracker offers a confident and largely successful reimagining of a seasonal classic, distinguished by its strong visual imagination, thoughtful dramaturgical choices, and a clear engagement with contemporary themes. While the production is not without minor imperfections, these are absorbed smoothly into an overall experience that feels cohesive, engaging, and artistically purposeful.

From its opening moments, the production signals its modern sensibility. Rather than beginning with a conventional curtain rise, the performance unfolds through gradual lighting shifts and projected imagery that recall cinematic storytelling. The bustling Christmas street scene is rendered with energy and precision, its heightened colour palette and rhythmic pacing immediately drawing the audience into the festive world. Particularly effective is the emergence of Drosselmeyer’s shop, which appears almost organically through light and projection. Here, lighting operates as a narrative instrument, guiding the viewer through space and story rather than simply illuminating it.

Drosselmeyer’s characterisation reflects the production’s broader interpretive ambition. Presented in darker tones and accompanied by masked assistants, he exudes a controlled and slightly unsettling authority. The narrative itself remains faithful to the original, yet the emphasis on atmosphere and motivation reshapes his role, lending his actions a greater sense of intention. This subtle dramaturgical recalibration enriches the story without disrupting its familiar structure.

The production’s use of props is one of its most compelling strengths. Magic is frequently conveyed through carefully designed non contact effects, allowing objects to transform and reassemble with apparent autonomy. These moments are integrated into the storytelling rather than functioning as spectacle alone. Gifts, toys, and stage machinery become active agents in the narrative, reinforcing the logic of enchantment that underpins the work.

Transitions into the dream world are handled with notable sensitivity. Shadow play, shifting furniture, sound design, and atmospheric lighting work together to create a psychologically convincing sense of dislocation. This approach avoids abrupt visual changes and instead establishes a gradual, immersive passage into fantasy, aligning well with the production’s emphasis on internal coherence.

Clara’s character benefits from a clear enhancement of agency. Her confrontation with the Mouse King is decisive and assertive, aligning with the production’s inclusion of feminist imagery such as the “Vote for Women” banners woven into both the street scenes and the battle sequence. These elements are introduced with restraint and clarity, adding contemporary resonance while remaining integrated within the theatrical world.

Some sections reveal minor limitations in execution rather than conception. The snow scene features elegant choreography and striking costumes, yet certain stage mechanics feel slightly rigid, and the use of live children’s singing lacks polish. Similarly, imaginative design choices such as the seahorse sleigh would benefit from more refined materials. These moments, however, do little to detract from the production’s overall momentum.

The Land of Sweets provides a strong and satisfying conclusion, with a clear spatial structure, vibrant costumes, and inventive transitions. While some national dances are more briefly explored than others, the sequence remains visually coherent and theatrically assured.

Overall, Nutcracker stands as a thoughtful and imaginative reinterpretation, marked by strong visual storytelling and a clear artistic vision. Its minor shortcomings are gently outweighed by its creativity and coherence, making it a rewarding and engaging festive production.

REVIEW: Reasonable Crashout at the Glitch


Rating: 5 out of 5.

feels both raw and meticulously crafted


Reasonable Crashout is a work that feels both raw and meticulously crafted. Written by Ern Linn Chong, the play draws on the playwright’s personal experiences, which gives the narrative an authenticity and emotional urgency. Rather than presenting trauma and intimacy as abstract concepts, the story is grounded in lived memory, which makes its impact on stage deeply resonant.

The production owes much of its clarity to Xuan Ge’s direction and stage design. Every technical cue is purposeful, every shift in light and sound carefully timed to serve the narrative rather than decorate it. What could have been overly symbolic is instead sharp and precise, shaping the audience’s emotional response scene by scene.

One of the most striking devices is the recurring heartbeat/ECG sound. It begins as incomplete and fragmented, returning each time Dee appears, and finally collapses to zero at the mother’s death. This auditory externalizes Ling’s inner wound, making psychological loss tangible through sound. The silence that follows feels as devastating as the moment itself.

Another unforgettable sequence is the use of projected mirror imagery. Ling sees herself in the projection while Dee films her, creating a doubled act of looking. The effect is uncanny: Ling becomes both subject and object, both the one who remembers and the one remembered. It stages the fractured nature of trauma, where the self is never whole but constantly split between past and present.

This culminates in Dee’s devastating line: “We were 12, we lost her, I’ll always be 12, but you different.” The line crystallizes the gap between two characters who share the same loss but carry it differently. For Dee, time froze at the moment of the mother’s absence; for Ling, the wound is carried forward, shaping her evolving identity. The contrast is painful, and it illustrates how memory and grief fracture not only individuals but also relationships.

The play’s exploration of sexuality and psychological intimacy is also notable from its Southeast Asian perspective. Rather than treating desire as purely individual, the production frames it within the broader context of interdependence and cultural expectation. This makes the intimate scenes feel less like isolated confessions and more like negotiations within a social web. What struck me most was how this perspective overlapped with a Chinese understanding of family. The figure of the mother is tied to family obligation and identity, shaping how Ling understands herself even in adulthood. In this sense, the play is not only about private grief but about the cultural weight of family bonds that persist beyond death.

Reasonable Crashout succeeds because it is honest without being indulgent, and technical without being cold. By combining Ern Linn Chong’s personal narrative with Xuan Ge’s precise stagecraft, the production creates a theatrical language capable of speaking across cultures. It is at once Southeast Asian, Chinese, and universal—a meditation on love, loss, and the ways family shapes who we are long after its members are gone.

REVIEW: Q the Music – James Bond Concert Spectacular


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A stylish, sonically superb tribute to 007 that proves the music of Bond is as timeless as the man himself.


There are few soundtracks as unmistakably iconic as those that accompany James Bond. From the bold brass of “Goldfinger” to the smoky elegance of “Skyfall,” the music of 007 has become almost as defining as the secret agent himself. On a crisp evening at Fairfield Halls, Croydon, Q The Music delivered a pitch-perfect tribute to this legacy — a two-hour concert experience that dazzled from start to finish.

Hosted by the effortlessly charming Caroline Bliss — known to Bond aficionados as Miss Moneypenny from The Living Daylights and Licence to Kill — the evening struck a perfect balance between musical nostalgia and behind-the-scenes intrigue. Bliss acted not just as compère but as a storyteller, weaving in delightful anecdotes about her time on the Bond set, the shifting styles of the franchise, and especially fond recollections of Sean Connery, the original and arguably most iconic Bond. Her tribute to Connery was heartfelt and intimate, painting a portrait of a man whose on-screen presence matched his off-screen charisma. These stories grounded the show in a real sense of history, drawing a straight line between the franchise’s cinematic glamour and the very human personalities who shaped it.

Musically, the performance was a triumph. The vocalists, particularly Sulene Fleming and Matt Walker, were exceptional. Fleming brought a sultry, commanding energy to “Diamonds Are Forever” and “License to Kill,” her voice rich with pathos and power. Walker’s rendition of “Writing’s on the Wall” was hauntingly good, capturing the emotional tension of the original while making it his own. Both singers demonstrated extraordinary control and range, navigating the stylistic shifts between decades with ease and flair.

The 13-piece band was no less accomplished. Under the baton of musical director Warren Ringham, every note was executed with cinematic precision. From the jazzy undertones of “You Only Live Twice” to the thunderous urgency of “Live and Let Die,” the orchestra brought an astonishing breadth of tone and dynamism to each number. Particularly notable was their take on “No Time to Die” — a recent addition to the Bond songbook — which stood out as one of the highlights of the evening. With its brooding piano intro and soaring climaxes, the performance underscored how Billie Eilish’s modern ballad fits seamlessly into the Bond canon, bridging the gap between classic elegance and contemporary melancholy.

The show did not simply trot out the obvious hits but paid homage to instrumental scores and less mainstream entries in the Bond repertoire. These selections showcased the depth of musical talent onstage and reflected a genuine reverence for the franchise as a whole. Enthusiasts will have been thrilled to hear pieces like “Bond 77” and John Barry’s atmospheric incidental music, often overlooked in favour of the chart-toppers.

Q The Music is not merely a concert — it’s an immersive celebration of a cultural phenomenon. From the moment the first trumpet blasts through the Bond theme to the final applause, it holds its audience in a grip of suave nostalgia and high-octane showmanship.