Category: Spoken Word

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Elizabeth Alvarado

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Ahead of My Uncle is Not Pablo Escobar, we caught up with writer and performer Elizabeth Alvarado to talk about the personal stories behind the piece, balancing humour with complex cultural narratives, and what it means to reclaim identity on stage. In this Q&A, Alvarado discusses the power of collective storytelling, the real-life events that shaped the play, and how the production walks the line between activism and entertainment.

My Uncle is Not Pablo Escobarplays at Brixton House now until 3rd May. Tickets are available here.

How do you make a heist thriller hit hard without losing the truth of British-Latinx lived experience?

We knew we were setting out to create and write this show about lived experiences, and the issues young Latin American women feel when growing up with dual identity. Centring the show on these issues was our priority. The HSBC scandal that provided the basis for the heist at the centre of the show added a further layer of reality. The heist thriller element is intentionally chosen not only to be entertaining, but to help convey the issues that the Latin American community face. Through the larger-than-life story the audience gets to engage with deep global and structural injustice, and feel the satisfaction of the characters speaking truth to power. By channelling lived experience into characters that are part of a bigger story, we expand the truthful daily emotions we feel, into a dramatic world that retains truthful emotional resonance. 

What’s the one thing in your research into corporate complicity that completely changed how you wrote the story?

This story is based on the 2012 HSBC scandal, when the bank was fined 1.9 billion dollars for failing to prevent money laundering by Mexican and Colombian drug cartels. HSBC signed a Deferred Prosecution Agreement for breaches of the US Bank Secrecy Act, the Trading with the Enemy Act and assorted money laundering offences. It sounds like a big deal but in reality, the fine is equivalent to about five weeks’ profit and the incident had very little impact on the company or drug trafficking and violence in Latin America – many people don’t even remember or know about it and continue to bank with HSBC. We were astonished at how little attention the issue of money laundering receives and how governments do so little to prevent it, considering the harm it perpetuates, the crime it supports, and the way it affects us all. The play is an opportunity to reject reality, rewrite history and dream how we wanted the world to be, with the actions of our characters triggering large-scale economic justice. 

Did writing as a collective sharpen or complicate your sense of a shared British-Latinx voice?

Mainly sharpen. Having the space in rehearsal to express our individual views was an opportunity to hone, deepen and expand all of our creative voices. That’s the beauty of a process like this; we learn from the people we’re working with, and through expressing ourselves learn more about how we think. Working in a collective gave us all more courage, we supported each other to speak our truth and from the beginning we acknowledged we couldn’t speak for the whole Latin American community. Hopefully by speaking up for ourselves we’re showing everyone they deserve to take up space! It’s not always easy, and we don’t see eye to eye on every issue, which in itself is a beautiful multiplicity.

How do you subvert the “Pablo Escobar” stereotype without letting it define the narrative?

The title is a reclamation of our identity against the slurs thrown our way for being Latin American. The stereotype of being related to drug dealers, drugs or cocaine was something we had to deal with a lot in secondary school. We wanted to provoke people to watch the show, since people seem to be obsessed with Escobar, we knew it would be a great way to get them into the theatre. We use the stereotype to our advantage, and we don’t mention him specifically within our story. Everyone knows that drug cartels are engaged in criminal activity, but what we felt was less understood was how multinational companies, including British banks, have enabled and profited off those crimes, for example through money laundering. 

What has your relationship with Brixton’s Latinx community directly shifted in the script?

Alongside the theatre show we have curated a Latin X Brixton Festival running at Brixton House, with workshops, food, talks, DJs, exhibitions. It’s a whole day of free events taking place on Saturday 18 April, open to everyone. 

Where do you draw the line between activism and entertainment—and do you ever want to blur it more?

We are strong believers that the arts is a political space. In our work there isn’t a strict line between activism or entertainment. Toni Cade Bambara said that artists are responsible for making the revolution irresistible, and that’s what we set out to do, through populist entertainment featuring dance numbers, glittering costumes, jokes, a thrilling story, great music.

REVIEW: In Some Dark Valley

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

“A ‘poor wayfaring stranger’ takes us on a journey through the dark heart of post-Civil War Appalachia.“

Henrik Ibsen’s 1865 tragedy Brand tells the story of a zealous preacher at odds with a society he deems cold, corrupt, and materialistic. It has enjoyed many incarnations, but Robert Bailey’s decision to relocate the story to post-Civil War Appalachia in his one-man show In Some Dark Valley is particularly inspired. The region’s wild mountainous landscape, fire-and-brimstone religiosity, and stark social inequality mirror Ibsen’s Scandinavia with striking effect. Punctuated by snatches of traditional folk song, the production becomes an atmospheric and often uncanny reimagining of an age-old tale of man’s fraught relationship with God.

Reverend Brand – an intense, brooding preacher dressed all in black – cuts a mysterious figure on a bare stage. “I don’t know where I am,” he admits, yet he is compelled to offer “testimony” of the journey that has led him here. He guides us through the ‘infernal darkness’ of his poverty-stricken childhood to his spiritual awakening in a shadowy forest. He recounts his rise as a charismatic circuit preacher and his love for the devout Agnes. It is this unwavering mission, however, that leads to his ultimate downfall.

When a devastating sickness strikes the town – seen by many as divine retribution for the Civil War – Brand’s rigid beliefs are tested. Setting the story in the war’s aftermath proves particularly effective, revealing a society shaken not only by a staggering death toll but by profound social change. Brand’s ideal of a church open to all races is radical and idealistic, and is unsurprisingly met with hostility.

The script is the production’s greatest strength. Rich in imagery, it vividly evokes misty churchyards, shadowy forests, and remote hillside hollers, blending religious symbolism with folk mysticism. In one striking moment, the voice of God “floated out on the morning breeze like a ribbon come loose from a gal’s hair.” Crucially, the writing resists sentimentalising Brand; the cost of his moral absolutism on his family is clear and often disturbing.

Billy Siegenfeld’s direction is deft and assured, moving us through multiple locations across a sparse, austere set. Yet the production lacks a necessary spark. The storytelling is deliberate and measured, which suits the descriptive passages but slows the overall pace. Greater variation in rhythm and sharper emotional shifts are needed to fully ignite the drama.

Bailey delivers a committed and thoughtful performance, finding moments of tenderness and wry humour. However, his preacher never fully convinces; the sermons lack the fiery conviction one expects. Only in a surreal dream sequence – where visions of hell are recounted – does the physical and vocal performance reach the chilling intensity demanded by the language. I attended the opening performance, and there is every chance the piece will settle and develop over its run.

Some of the most affecting moments come through Bailey’s renditions of Appalachian folk songs. Their themes of rural isolation, unshakable faith, and romantic longing form the emotional backbone of the piece, resonating deeply. His plaintive voice and total commitment cut through the stillness, creating moments that send genuine chills through the audience.

In Some Dark Valley is a thoughtful and atmospheric work which, with a few small adjustments, could become a barnstorming festival favourite worthy of a rousing amen.In Some Dark Valley is on at the White Bear Theatre until 4th April. Tickets here.

REVIEW: In The Print

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Rating: 3 out of 5.

“An engaging production that prints the legend, but struggles to find the soul of the story.”

Following their dive into 1970s high-stakes politics with The Gang of Three, writing duo Robert Khan and Tom Salinsky return to the 20th century with In The Print. This time, the battlefield isn’t Westminster, but the press rooms of Fleet Street. The play charts the seismic Wapping dispute, where Rupert Murdoch took on the formidable print unions and fundamentally reshaped the British media landscape.

The script itself is undeniably tight and maintains a pacey energy that keeps the production moving along. Khan and Salinsky have a clear ear for sharp, punchy dialogue, and there is an evident effort to infuse the proceedings with humor. However, the production often feels like a play designed for an exclusive club of political aficionados. Much of the comedy relies heavily on a pre-existing syllabus of 1980s political trivia, and the jokes frequently fall flat for those lacking that specific historical context. At one point, a recurring gag involving a trade union leader reciting poetry veers into the surreal. While this is presumably intended as a nod to a real-life eccentricity, it feels jarring and alienating for audience members who weren’t there to witness the original events. For those born after the era depicted, many of the play’s satirical targets and specific character references remain frustratingly elusive.

While the historical narrative is undoubtedly compelling, the show struggles to bridge the gap between factual chronology and genuine character development. The play frequently prioritizes the “what” of history over the “why” of the human experience. We witness characters make massive, life-altering decisions, yet these shifts occur with little psychological foundation. The script seems to assume that because these events happened in reality, they do not require further explanation on stage. Consequently, we see precious little of the internal conflict or the difficult deliberations one would expect from such monumental turning points. The characters often feel like passive observers caught in the slipstream of history, acting as if events are simply happening to them rather than being driven by their own personal ambitions or fears.

The production is bolstered, however, by a cast that brings a great deal of commitment to the stage. While the roles themselves may not offer the deepest opportunities for nuance, the actors provide strong, grounded performances. Alan Cox is particularly effective as Rupert Murdoch, imbuing the media mogul with a chilling, quiet sense of menace that anchors the play’s central tension. Opposite him, Claudia Jolly gives a fierce and commanding performance as the militant union leader Brenda Dean, playing off Cox with impressive energy. Meanwhile, Alasdair Harvey offers an amusingly accurate impression of Andrew Neil; he successfully manages to capture the vocal mannerisms of the editor without ever allowing the performance to cross the line into cartoonish parody.

Visually, the production is well-served by its staging. A simple, static set allows the audience’s attention to remain entirely focused on the dialogue and the performances, and the costuming is effectively evocative, grounding the show firmly in the aesthetic of the 1980s.

In conclusion, In The Print is a solid, well-performed piece of dramatized history, yet it seems to lack that elusive spark that provides a truly urgent reason for its existence. Beyond simply recounting an interesting story from the recent past, the play’s own point of view remains somewhat unclear. It tells the story efficiently, but it fails to say something new or profound about the mechanics of power. If you are already well-versed in the history of the 1980s newspaper industry and would like to see these events dramatized in an entertaining, straightforward fashion, this is absolutely the show for you. However, if you are not already familiar with the primary movers and shakers of that era, you might find that reading a standard Wikipedia article on the Wapping dispute offers an equally compelling, if less theatrical, experience.

In The Print is playing at the Kings Head Theatre 1st April – 3rd May. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Death on the Nile

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Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“A sharp, funny and genuinely gripping whodunit. The kind of show that reminds you why live theatre just hits different.“

Kicking off the theatre year with a show like this feels like a real win. Going in with very little knowledge of the story – aside from the promise of a murder, a famous detective, and some comedic moments – makes the experience even more exciting. It is the kind of production that leaves audiences leaving the auditorium energised and already looking forward to what else the year might have in store.

Ken Ludwig’s adaptation gets the balance just right. It’s witty and genuinely funny, but never at the expense of the tension that drives the mystery forward.  The production knows when to make you laugh and when to make you lean forward in your seat, and it moves between the two with ease..

Mark Hadfield is a joy as Poirot. His performance is warm, sharp, and his comic timing is a definite highlight. One of the most memorable moments comes in the final act, as Poirot pieces together the truth behind the murder while the cast act out flashbacks around him in real time. It’s inventive, engaging theatre and theatrical storytelling that just would not work the same way on screen.

Across the board, the cast deliver strong performances, but Esme Hough stands out as Jacqueline de Bellefort. She is absolutely magnetic in the role and brings a layered intensity that elevates every scene she’s in.

The writing also deserves credit for how well it handles the show’s many suspects. Each character is carefully positioned to keep the audience guessing, with clever moments of misdirection that is tight and the payoff is satisfying. Even without prior familiarity with the story, it’s easy to stay engaged and invested in the mystery.

Visually, the production makes excellent use of the Festival Theatre stage. The set is both stylish and practical, allowing the action to move smoothly between locations without disrupting the flow. Sound design plays an equally important role, subtly building atmosphere and tension throughout. It’s one of those elements that might not always be front of mind, but it contributes significantly to the show’s overall impact.

Crucially, this is a production that feels very accessible. There’s no need to be a dedicated Agatha Christie fan to enjoy it. The storytelling is clear, the characters are distinct, and the world is easy to step into from the outset. At its heart, it’s simply an entertaining and well-crafted piece of theatre.

With a cast that clearly enjoys the material, thoughtful creative choices, and a script that keeps audiences guessing right to the end, this makes for a strong start to the theatre year.

Death on the Nile plays at Capital Theatre until 28th March. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Consumed

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A tight and emotionally charged play that does not shy away from its ambition”

Karis Kelly’s Consumed, winner of the 2025 Women’s Playwriting Competition, arrives in London following an acclaimed run at the Traverse in Edinburgh in 2025. The play is a tight yet emotionally charged piece that unfolds during a single birthday celebration, where four generations of women gather in one space. In just 80 minutes of stage time, intergenerational tensions and buried traumas surface, gradually unveiling a wider history of violence that extends beyond the family itself.

The play truly showcases Kelly’s craftsmanship as a writer, as Consumed unfolds entirely in real time. There are no jumps in chronology; instead, the narrative develops through continuous conversation. It is an ambitious structural choice, yet Kelly’s writing successfully sustains it.

Set at the 90th birthday party of the matriarch in the family, the play places its focus exclusively on the four generations of females in this Northern Irish household. Each of the four characters is sharply defined, and while they may initially appear somewhat archetypal, their interactions generate a dynamic and compelling tension that propels the play forward.

Eileen (played by Julia Dearden) is the great-grandmother of the youngest generation in the household. She is a comedic force on stage. Yet at the same time, she feels deeply relatable to anyone whose grandparents have reached a similar stage of life: someone who has “seen it all,” but, because of the physical limitations of age, whose agency is largely taken away, leading them to be treated exclusively like a care recipient. Gilly (played by Andrea Irvine), her daughter, is portrayed as outwardly calm but prone to emotional eruptions, being overtly polite most of the time and obsessed with maintaining order and a veneer of peace. The character feels both relatable and insufferable at the same time. Irvine’s performance offers a masterclass of both precision and force, rendering this character rich complexity and solid credibility.

In contrast, Gilly’s daughter Jenny (played by Caoimhe Farren) is an alcoholic and an agent of chaos, driven by resentment and unresolved anger toward her mother. The chaos of this character, although often manifested in a slightly melodramatic way, is the true driving force of all the plot points in the play. It’s a hard character to handle, yet Farren’s performance invites both credibility and sympathy toward this character. The youngest, Muireann, is marked by nervous energy and constant, almost stereotypically Gen Z commentary. Compared to other characters in the play, Muireann is probably the most underdeveloped. This flatness in character, however, is not enriched by the performance of Muireann Ní Fhaogáin, who plays the character with nervous energy throughout the entire performance.

For an 80-minute play, Consumed does not shy away from its ambition. What begins as a seemingly light family gathering quickly deepens into an exploration of intergenerational trauma and the enduring legacy of historical violence. It explicitly engages with a familiar yet powerful idea: that harm does not simply disappear; it is inherited, reshaped, and reproduced through generations.

Consumed will continue to play at Park Theatre in London until the 18th of April, with only limited availability remaining here.

Image Credit: Pamela Raith

REVIEW: I, Daniel Blake

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Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A poignant and powerful adaptation”

A poignant and powerful adaptation of the 2016 film, highlighting the stark reality of the most vulnerable citizens in the UK. A must-see for everyone, particularly those of us who are privileged enough to not have to claim benefits.

‘I, Daniel Blake’ is a stage play adapted from the 2016 Ken Loach film about the unforgivable flaws in the UK benefits system. It follows Dan, a man recovering after a heart attack, and his battle to be treated as a citizen whilst being passed between his doctor, the job centre, the government, and hours on the phone on hold – all the while receiving no money to survive. He meets Katie and her daughter Daisy, who are going through a similar battle of unfair treatment, and befriends and helps them in their own struggles.

Utterly poignant and perfectly pitched, this play left many of the audience in tears, and was greatly deserving of its standing ovation. David Nellis was outstanding as Dan, as was Jessica Johnson as Katie. There was no shortage of emotion and rawness on the stage, and being right in front of you gave a lot of gravity to the reality of the story. One part I found particularly powerful was an angry speech from a homeless man, defending Dan and berating the system with passion. Despite the serious topic, somehow the play also found moments of comedy and had the audience laughing out loud several times, with typical northern humour.

The supporting actors Kema Sikazwe, Jodie Wild, Micky Cochrane and Janine Leigh were brilliant too, each playing multiple parts. I thought the simple dynamic set was very well designed to reflect the basic living standards of people ‘existing, not living’. The backdrop video also worked perfectly to display quotes and various flyers and adverts that would have been circulating, and the sound and lighting brought the whole production together, transporting you into a world that too many people are a part of.

It used real clips of politicians throughout – sound bites of them referring to the benefit system, defending it and blaming the citizens instead. The story made it starkly clear how badly they had missed the point. In fact, the whole play was extremely well-researched – for example the questions Dan had to answer to attempt to claim Employment and Support Allowance seemed so ridiculous and unjust, but actually were the exact questions asked in real life. 

The message of ‘I, Daniel Blake’ was clear, as director Mark Calvert says: ‘A call to keep telling these stories until our country truly supports its most vulnerable, rather than protecting the privileged few and demonising those in need’. I have seen amongst my family and friends how difficult it can be to find a job, and it struck me how scarily easy it would be for many people I know to fall victim to the flaws of the UK benefits system. 

I implore everyone to go and see this play, and be ready to realise how close to reality Dan’s and Katie’s stories are.

I, Daniel Blake plays at Northern Stage until 4th April before heading on tour across the UK this spring. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Hannah Caplan

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Hannah Caplan is a writer and visual artist working across painting, ceramics and fibre art. THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME. is her debut play, with her visual practice directly informing the production’s hand-crafted set and material language. We sat down with Hannah to discuss her upcoming performance.

THIS IS NOT ABOUT ME. will run at Soho Theatre (Upstairs) from 25th March to 18th April, running for 70 minutes. For more information and tickets, visit https://sohotheatre.com/events/this-is-not-about-me/. The show will then transfer to at 59E59 Theaters in New York City in May.

This Is Not About Me places a writer onstage who is actively shaping – and arguably reshaping – a shared relationship. What first drew you to the ethical tension between storytelling and ownership? Was this play born from a curiosity about memory, or from a concern about control?

God, it would be brilliant if it had been born from something high-minded… This play was actually born out of a really base, non-intellectual place; fuelled by Pro-Plus and a clawing need to make Dougie laugh.

But once I had a third or fourth draft, I started to get properly pretentious with it. I put on a turtleneck and read Jean Baudrillard; however, it really did just start with sex jokes and giggling.

What slowly emerged through the writing process became a much knottier question about who “owns” a shared experience. The play follows Grace staging her version of a relationship in front of the person who lived it with her. I became fascinated by the way memory is rarely shared in quite the same way between two people. So, the narrative of exploring what happens when someone you care for doesn’t recognise themselves in your version of events felt exciting and dramatic, and probably something that a lot of people have experienced in one form or another.

Grace frames the act of writing as processing and repair, yet Eli increasingly challenges her right to tell the story. Do you see the play as a critique of autobiographical art-making – or as a defence of it? Where do you personally sit within that debate?

I don’t think the play lands neatly on one side. I’m deeply suspicious of anyone claiming objectivity, including artists. I think it’s normal to make art in response to your experience of life. That’s certainly how we start, drawing crayon pictures of our families standing outside our homes, with labelled names for clarity. Personally, I can’t imagine how I could make art that wasn’t a reflection of the people I love, the music I listen to and the things that make me laugh. I think all art is autobiographical, every painting is a self-portrait, just some are more abstract than others. 

What would be messy, however, would be conflating autobiographical art with truth or reality. 

The production makes the act of writing visible through live typing, film and multimedia. How important was it for you that the audience witnesses the mechanics of authorship rather than simply consuming a finished narrative?

When I’m writing, I try not to think about the audience, or I think I’d go mental. Normally I’m thinking about Amaia, Dougie and Francis, and what will be fun for them to work with.

That said, I liked the idea that the story never feels fully settled. You watch Grace typing it into existence, sometimes changing it mid-flow, which is slightly exposing. The live text and film mean you’re aware of the edits as they happen so it’s like you can feel the narrative shifting as you watch; you’re never entirely sure whether you’re watching memory or invention.

In terms of authorship, I don’t think I’ll ever get over the transcendentality of creating. It’s a very special process that I am so grateful to get to experience. I tend to write about it because it means so much to me. 

Your background as a fibre artist directly informs the hand-crafted, crocheted set design. How does working materially – through thread, texture and physical craft – influence the way you construct emotional narratives on the page?

Fibre arts have taught me about the importance of craft, of practice and of learning from our elders. Writing is a skill I am developing and am constantly making mistakes in. I get better by continuing to do it and learning from people who have been doing it longer than me.

With fibre, you’re looping thread through itself, building something slowly, sometimes unpicking it when you realise you’ve gone wrong. It’s patient and occasionally humbling, which feels very similar to writing. When you watch Grace working through her version of events, she’s doing something comparable – adjusting, tightening, occasionally distorting the shape of things.

There’s something vulnerable about seeing the labour in something handmade. You can see where it’s been stitched together. I wanted the world of the play to feel like that too – visibly constructed, human, and honest about the effort it takes to turn experience into something shareable.

The play has been described as “a romcom with fangs.” How consciously were you engaging with the conventions of romantic storytelling, and at what point did you decide to tear that genre open rather than simply inhabit it?

Yes, Lynn Gardner wrote better copy about our play than we did so huge shout out to her!

One of the first things I knew about this script was that it was going to be non-linear. So I read as many non-linear plays and screenplays as I could find in order to figure out how they work. I noticed quite quickly that the vast majority of commercially successful non-linear plays and screenplays were variations on the romcom: Annie Hall, (500) Days of Summer, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and arguably Harold Pinter’s Betrayal.

I think perhaps, in order to go along with the conceit of non-linearity, audiences need the universality of the love story and the relief of comedy; otherwise it all becomes a bit too much head and not enough heart.

After I had written my version of the non-linear romcom, I brought it to Dougie, who said: “Hannah, I love it, but this is not a love story. It’s a horror.” We started to blend those genres from there.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Mohammedally Hashemi

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Set in a high-pressure Mayfair fashion atelier, Where There Is No Time explores the cost of ambition in the modern fashion world. The play centres on Yusuf, a British Iranian-Yemeni designer preparing a career-defining collection while navigating competing pressures of heritage, commerce, and creative control. We sat down with Mohammedally Hashemi to discuss their upcoming performance.

Where There Is No Time plays at Seven Dials Playhouse from 17–28 March 2026. Tickets are available here.

What inspired you to set Where There Is No Time within the fashion world, and how does that environment sharpen the play’s exploration of ambition and identity?

I was drawn to the fashion world because it’s a space where image, ego and vulnerability are all constantly on display. It felt like the perfect pressure-cooker for a story about someone trying to define themselves while the world is busy defining them for its own purposes.

In that environment, ambition is always heightened: every show, every collection, every campaign is a test of worth, relevance and legacy. For Yusuf, that world exposes the fault lines between who he is, who his family expects him to be, and who the industry wants him to become. By setting the play in fashion, I could sharpen questions of identity, heritage and compromise in a world obsessed with surfaces, where the cost of success is often paid for in very private, internal ways.

How did your own British Iranian-Yemeni heritage shape Yusuf’s character and the emotional stakes of his creative journey? 

A lot of it does. As a British-Iranian-Yemeni actor, writer and producer, I’ve absorbed so many conversations and contradictions around identity, success and representation, and I’ve poured those observations into this play. I’m very conscious of how tempting it can be to profit from pain and politics, especially when the industry often rewards artists for taking very visible stances on certain issues, like the situation in Iran.

For me, it feels honest only when it comes from a genuinely personal place, not because it’s fashionable or financially advantageous. The problem is that, from the outside, there are always people who see the economic value in that pain, and that can make even sincere work appear inauthentic. Yusuf’s struggle with heritage and commerce is my way of interrogating that tension: how do you honour where you come from and what you believe, without allowing your story, or your politics, to be packaged and sold back to you.

The play wrestles with the idea of sanitising culture for commercial success — what conversations are you hoping audiences will leave the theatre having about that tension?

I don’t think that part is really up to me. Once the play is in front of an audience, it belongs to them, and what they take away will always be coloured by their own lives, experiences and questions.

What I hope is that it stirs something in them — whether that’s reflection, discomfort, recognition or simply the feeling of having been immersed in a world that stays with them on the way home. The rehearsals are for us, but the show is for them, so above all I just want them to have a good time in the theatre

What has it been like to write and perform such a personal story simultaneously, and how do those roles inform each other in rehearsal?

It’s a completely different experience speaking words you’ve written yourself. As an actor, you’re usually interpreting someone else’s truth; here, I’m carrying my own, and that brings a strange mix of vulnerability and power.

In rehearsal, the writer and actor in me are constantly in dialogue. If something feels false in my mouth, I can adjust it in real time, and if a moment unexpectedly lands emotionally, I can deepen it on the page. There’s a real sense of freedom in that — complete freedom — because the text and performance are evolving together, and I don’t feel bound by anyone’s rules but the story’s.

In portraying the pressures of perfectionism and legacy, how did you approach showing the psychological cost of creative success on stage?

We approached it by letting the audience feel Yusuf’s unraveling in real time, through his body, his silences, and the mounting chaos around him. The toll is intense: he’s desperately clinging to the innocent passion that first drove him, even as he’s forced to make ruthless calls to save his company and secure its future.

On stage, we show that psychological cost not through exposition, but in fractured rhythms — moments where his polished facade cracks, where private doubts spill into public spaces, and where the weight of legacy starts to physically bend him. It’s about making visible the quiet violence of perfectionism: how success doesn’t just demand your time or talent, but starts to hollow out the very joy that fuelled it.

As an emerging playwright moving from film into theatre, what possibilities does live performance offer you that other mediums don’t?

Live performance is its own electric animal—like stand-up comedy, where you’re learning in real time exactly how the writing lands with an audience, breath by breath, laugh by laugh, silence by silence.

There’s nothing more beautiful than that immediacy: you can feel what resonates, what needs sharpening, what shifts a room, and it teaches you more about your own work in one night than months of editing ever could. Theatre gives me that raw, unfiltered dialogue with the crowd that film, with all its control, just can’t replicate.

Image Credit: Dave Hutchinson

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Rowland D. Hill

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Charlie & Striptease is a double-bill of razor-sharp political satire by Sławomir Mrożek, blending absurd humour with unsettling situations, running at Golden Goose Theatre 21st April – 9th May 2026. Tickets available here. We sat down with producer and actor Rowland D. Hill to discuss their upcoming production.

What first drew you to the work of Sławomir Mrożek?

I was approached by Orsolya Nagy, theatre maker and director, who had been researching 1960’s and 70’s Eastern European theatre. Orsolya introduced me to Striptease and invited me to perform in a test production at the Birmingham Theatre Festival in 2025. Working on the play was a delight and audience reaction in Birmingham was very positive. As a result I scoured the internet and found a copy of six plays by Mrozek in English translation. They are all exceptional – entertaining and thought-provoking – and speak strongly to the situation in the world today. I was keen to do more!

What felt important about presenting the two plays together as a double-bill?

Striptease is a forty minute play, and it was clear that to have a viable evening of theatre we needed an accompanying piece. I proposed to Orsolya that my company, DRH Arts, should co-produce a run of two Mrozek plays (Striptease and another) and we researched the other work before determining on Charlie as the companion piece. In fact I was torn between a play called Enchanted Night and Charlie. In the end Charlie won out because it is just so funny and absurd, and has wonderful characters and situations to explore. It sits well with Striptease as a contrast in terms of characters, but explores similar themes in a very different and eccentric way.

Mrożek’s writing blends deadpan absurdity with sharp political insight. How have you approached bringing that balance to the stage?

It is always a pleasure to work as an actor and theatre maker on scripts such as these, which have emotional integrity and great characterisations. As performers we have to find the truth of the characters, and the relationships between them. The political insight is something that the audience will hopefully enjoy, but the characters are not stating that, rather their situation illustrates political issues that in some ways the characters are struggling with. The comedy is opened up and revealed if we are honest in our portrayals and in the goings on between us. Hopefully we’ll achieve that! 

Taking on both producing and acting roles can be demanding. How does being a producer change the way you approach your performance?

Being a producer does not change my approach to performance at all. I have a lot of experience as a producer and understand how that role works and what is required, so I am able to separate the two roles.  I’ve done it before and have also been writer and producer (in 2025 for my play Who is Claude Cahun? at Southwark Playhouse), which in some ways was more difficult because I was not on stage presenting the work! Sometimes it’s necessary to be proactive in facilitating the work you want to do and hence being willing to act as a producer. The challenge is probably the work load that is required, especially when, as with Charlie and Striptease, there are large character parts to learn and rehearse. It’s lovely to get in the rehearsal room and forget about the producer bit for a time!

If someone is unfamiliar with Mrożek’s work, what would you love them to discover through this production?

I anticipate that many people seeing this double-bill of theatre will be unfamiliar with Mrozek, as indeed I was until Orsolya’s introduction! He is an extraordinary writer who deserves to be much better known in the UK. It should be said that his reputation remains high and high profile in Poland and some other Eastern European countries. I think people will be awe struck by the quality of the writing and by the imagination that has created these ridiculous situations and events, but which so strongly satirise the claustrophobic and unjust world of an authoritarian regime. I hope people will chuckle at the plays and at the same time understand the dangers they warn against.

    REVIEW: House Seats with Henry Patterson

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    Rating: 4 out of 5.

    “A raw and intimate look at the making of a West End leading man”

    At Crazy Coqs, House Seats with Henry Patterson offers an intimate and honest evening of conversation and performance, as Henry Patterson sits down with West End performer Ian McIntosh to explore the journey behind a remarkable career.

    Currently starring as Jean Valjean in Les Misérables, McIntosh reflects on the experiences that have shaped him, both on and off the stage. What makes this format particularly compelling is its simplicity: a conversation interwoven with live performance, allowing the audience to understand and experience his talent firsthand. McIntosh spoke about being drawn to melody above all else, describing how the emotional pull of music has guided his connection to roles such as Valjean.

    The evening is at its strongest when McIntosh shares his personal story. Coming from a working-class background, he spoke candidly about initially training to become an electrician at 16 before finding his way to drama school. His early experiences performing in school productions revealed a natural vocal talent, but his path was far from straightforward. In a moment of vulnerability, he discussed stepping away from musical theatre after being bullied, as well as the challenges he faced during training including being held back a year at drama school to develop his acting skills.

    These reflections gave greater weight to the career milestones that followed. McIntosh recounted his breakthrough moment stepping into a leading role in Rock of Ages, having initially been an alternate, and the significance of receiving his first Olivier Award nomination. Throughout the evening, he performed songs from across his career, including selections from Cabaret, The Commitments and Les Misérables, each delivered with both technical strength and emotional sincerity.

    Patterson proves to be an assured and thoughtful host, creating space for both humour and honesty. The result is a deeply personal evening that goes beyond performance, offering insight into the resilience, vulnerability and determination required to build a life in theatre.

    See future events at Crazy Coqs here.