Category: Drama

REVIEW: Quiet Light

Published on by calumskuodasLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Set in an isolated lighthouse, these young actors give a strong performance as they battle with the ghosts of their past.

Set in a remote lighthouse, Quiet Light follows a lonely lighthouse keeper Ava (Elizabeth Anderson) struggles with the arrival of a marooned sailor and tries to cope with the arrival of marooned sailor Ray (Oisin Maguire). They are driven to madness by the ghosts of the deceased nearest and dearest in the form of Ava’s mother, Mandy (KC Thomas), and Ray’s wife, Cam (Anna Sylvester). Forced to decide whether to leave their tiny rock for good or stay with the shadows from their past, it’s a chilling and dramatic piece of theatre. 

The show’s greatest strength is its writing. The plot blends mystery with moments of irreverent humour and suddenly bursts of emotion as the secrets come flooding out. 

Their haunting seems like a clever play on the sirens that terrified sailors of old, and the theme of isolation at sea on a planet increasingly submerged under the waves is very prescient. Overall, it’s a highly creative piece of work, and writer Erin Hutton should be incredibly proud. However, I would like to see her work with director Rio Rose Joubert to improve the pacing of the storyline. The performers rattle through scenes as if they are in a hurry, which generally detracts from the ghostly drama and the lighthouse’s isolated feel. 

After a slightly nervous start, both Anderson and Maguire grow into their starring roles and play off each other well. Anderson does a great job of capturing the stress of the situation as things begin to unravel, but could show a greater range in the isolation and madness the characters face. 

Maguire performs admirably and captures the dark comedy and despondency of his role well, using his timing to deliver some killer lines. His interactions with his departed wife Cam are a strong point and provide a warm contrast to the chill sea air of the lighthouse. 

This is in a large part due to Sylvester, who gives the standout performance of the four; moving between loving and menacing, her physical performance is excellent, and it is a shame she is not used more.  

Finally, KC Thomas performs her ethereal, ghostly role well as she glides on and off stage and provides some of the loudest and most dramatic moments of the show. Her makeup and costume are another strong point, although a little more evil would not go amiss. 

I found the lighting and sound really added to the performance, especially as the staging is minimalist; Deep blue lighting and soft lapping of waves on an unseen shore intermingle with a half-sung sea shanty in another impressive display of creativity. It serves to make the most of the tiny space in the cellar of the Curtain’s Up pub in Baron’s Court. 

Overall, Quiet Light is an impressively strong production from a young team, and I look forward to seeing what the future holds for all involved. 

Quiet Light runs at Barons Court Theatre until the 18th of April. Tickets here.

REVIEW: Iphigenia

Published on by sarasioufi1Leave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

Iphigenia exposes how power disguises brutality until a father’s choice makes the cost of war devastatingly, and irreversibly, personal.

At Arcola, Iphigenia starts from a simple premise: the most frightening men are often the most convincing. Simon Kunz holds the opening in comedy with control. The timing lands, the tone stays easy, and the audience settles with him. That is what makes the turn into Agamemnon work. He does not mark the change. The same control hardens, and by the time he commits to sacrificing his daughter, it feels entirely believable. The brutality is not introduced. It is revealed.

That performance sits inside a strong company. Mithra Malek gives Iphigenia weight. She is not treated as a symbol or a device, but as a daughter, which is what gives the decision its force. Indra Ové meets Agamemnon directly as Clytemnestra, without softening or excess, and the conflict between them is allowed to hold its full shape. Serdar Biliş keeps the production grounded in the present without flattening it into a single reading.

The fight between Agamemnon and Clytemnestra is the point at which everything comes into focus. When she tells him, “the only god you believe in is power and money,” there is nothing left to qualify. He knows what the sacrifice is, and he proceeds anyway. That is what places the play in the present. As Jill Lepore argues in The New Yorker, constitutional limits on presidential war-making have steadily eroded, allowing a single figure to determine when violence is justified. Under Donald Trump, missile strikes in Syria were authorised without Congressional approval, and the killing of Qasem Soleimani was justified as immediate necessity. The structure is the same. One person makes the decision, and those without power absorb it.

The production does not approach war abstractly. It keeps returning to the relationship between parent and child. The filmed interviews, replacing the chorus, make that unavoidable. They do not expand the scale of the play. They reduce it. The cost of war is placed inside a family, where it cannot be reframed.

For those who come to this story through The Song of Achilles, where Iphigenia appears only briefly, the difference here is clear. She is not left at the edges. The production builds around her. The loss is not a moment that allows something else to begin. It is the centre of the play.

That shift also sits within the longer history of the myth. Iphigenia has often been treated as a function of war, a sacrifice that enables something larger. Here, that structure is reversed. The war exists around her, but the focus remains fixed on what is done to her, and by whom.

The ending does not offer relief. Agamemnon tells Clytemnestra that he saw Iphigenia taken up to heaven. It is an attempt to replace what happened with something else. She says she wishes she could believe him.

Iphigenia is playing at the Arcola Theatre from 10 April to 2 May 2026, with evening performances at 7.00pm and matinees at 3.30pm.

REVIEW: Island Town

Published on by davidlloydellisLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A brilliant revival of a tale of restless youth in an overlooked town.

This stark remount of Simon Longman’s 2018 play Island Town will resonate with anyone who grew up in an unfashionable part of the UK. Amid the whipcrack of the characters’ “sh*te” chat, the constant hum of the ring road is heard in the background – and little else – defining the unnamed setting. Conjuring up the patches of scrubland that fill the fringes of our urban landscapes, where young people often congregate.

The play’s power lies in its ability to transcend time and place; its setting could be any corner of the UK at almost any point over the past fifty years. Following three youths on the cusp of adulthood, it charts that period in life where hope and ambition – however modest – come into contact with reality. The dialogue neatly captures the inane patter of bored friends but is littered with philosophical turns, which the young local cast snap through, infusing this production with a strong Scottish flavour. And there are just enough laughs to offset the bleak, harrowing backstories shared over swigs of cider. 

This is a timely revival for a play with these themes. In director Anna Whealing’s words, ‘It goes straight to the heart of what social neglect, austerity and marginalisation do to communities.’ While the gloomy economic outlook of our times isn’t new, its burden falls disproportionately on younger people and left-behind communities. Where shrinking opportunity leads to shrinking ambition, desperation, and distraction, is the world Island Town so sharply captured.

With a cast and creative team largely made up of artists at the beginning of their careers, the production carries with it an honesty and earnestness. The staging perfectly matches the tone of the play – sparse, dark and minimal. The circular centre stage a visual metaphor of the town’s ring road that characters are trapped by – the austere design creating a confined atmosphere that places the focus squarely on the actors to make the characters the focus. And they do that brilliantly. The cast of Maria Woodside, Mollie Milne and Kyle McLean give real spirit to the characters Kate, Sam and Pete. Adding light to the dark with each managing to convey the hopes of their character as they try to cope with their circumstances. 

The only real flaw in the play is that the tragedy foreshadowed throughout doesn’t quite land in the ending. The emotional gut punch that always seems to be coming doesn’t quite hit the mark. At the end, the mounting pressures each character was facing are left unresolved, with the group’s coming-of-age story instead derailed by misadventure. 

Mobile in a way its characters are not, the play moves on from its two-night run at the Tron Theatre, Glasgow, to another two-night run in the Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh, in May. It certainly has the potential to connect with audiences beyond those.

This show runs at Assembly Roxy from 9th-10th May. Tickets available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Lucas Closs

Published on by ayoungishperspective1Leave a comment

The Sequel is a new comedy-drama from emerging writer Lucas Closs. When a novelist returns to the place that made her, she must face the people living with her version of them. We sat down with Lucas to discuss their upcoming production.

What was the very first spark that led you to write The Sequel?

I kept coming across places that had become museums of themselves, honouring their own depiction in a work of art. The setting of The Sequel (designed by Peiyao Wang) is a cafe preserved as the novelist’s description of it, not only out of the need for tourism but to celebrate a shared story, in the play this is Grace’s novel. I like how with these kinds of places there’s a gulf between the expectations set by the artist and their reality. 

The play explores what happens when real people become characters in someone else’s story. Is that something you have ever worried about in your own writing?

Grace Thoth (played by Nisha Emich) writes the story of her adolescence. Though I don’t tend to write non-fiction, the characters I write are composites of quite a few people that I tend to be unaware of while writing them- I usually don’t realise who they resemble until the last minute and quickly must change a few details. 

Grace returns to the place that inspired her book and discovers the consequences of turning life into literature. What fascinates you about the relationship between writers and their “material”?

How Grace used her surroundings for material, particularly her encounters with her old mentor, John (played by Jim Findley), is like how we all at times extract from and neglect our environment and the people in it for the sake of a story. Viewing things as ‘material’ can prevent us from existing or connecting with what’s in front us. Neither Grace or John are really able to hear or see each other due to their emotional distractions. 

Your work has been described as blending contemplation with menace. How do you balance humour and darker themes on stage?

I tend to try and find the balance by what feels plausible. A good dose of humour can sometimes feel more real that pure drama. I also think humour is a grounded and enjoyable way to explore themes such as resentment and isolation. I’m very dependent on the director, Imy Wyatt Corner, to tell me what are strange jokes I’ve made up with myself and what translates on stage. 

If audiences leave the theatre debating one question about authorship or responsibility, what would you hope that question might be?

This is the core tension for Martha played by Julia Pilkington- should I live my life as the central character in a story, or should I live ‘unnarrated’? 


The Sequel comes to Kings Head Theatre, London on Monday 20th April – Saturday 2nd May 2026. For more information visit: https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/the-sequel-5tbn

Image Credit: Pamela Raith

REVIEW: I, Daniel Blake

Published on by roisinlystLeave a comment

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.

REVIEW: Panacea

Published on by dianaunam35Leave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

A cautionary tale for modern science exploring what happens when scientific ambition collides with emotional vulnerability.

Professor Augustus “Gus” Jamieson is on the verge of a breakthrough: developing an infectious vaccine that could prevent future pandemics. But as his research gains momentum, so does the pressure he faces — from ethics committees, close relationships, and his own need for recognition. Presented by Bloodline Theatre Company, Panacea explores what happens when scientific ambition collides with emotional vulnerability.

Following a debut at The Cockpit in early 2025 and a UK tour later that year, the play now arrives at Riverside Studios, posing the question: what happens when meaningful research intersects with human ambition?

Co-written by microbiologist Andrew Singer and theatre maker Christina James, Panacea is a cautionary tale for modern science. The play interweaves the personal and professional tensions that shape Gus’ journey. James’ background in psychoanalysis informs the protagonist’s emotional landscape, as he grapples with ASD: his loneliness and anxiety surface not only in sessions with his therapist, but also in conversations with his cat (and yes, the cat answers back — quite wisely, too).

Co-directed by Christina James and Freya Griffiths, the production moves away from realism to create a more metaphoric space. A loose Greek chorus of performers dressed in black foreshadow the consequences of Gus’ pursuit of success, commenting on events through verse, sound poetry, and choreographed movement.

Will Batty leads the cast as Professor Jamieson, supported by an ensemble of four — Emily Wallace, Marianne James, Nina Fidderman, and Charlie Culley — who each double as figures in Gus’ world: caring therapist, loving partner, needy cat, cautious academic, and ambitious student. Each brings clarity and distinctiveness, offering glimpses into the competing forces shaping Gus’ decisions.

The staging has moments of inventiveness. Off-character performers enter to hand props, functioning as both chorus and stagehands. Paper sheets flood the floor to evoke endless bureaucracy; paper cups stand in for wine glasses; mobile texts are delivered on slips of paper. Subtle traces of crimson ribbon woven through costumes and set serve as a visual reminder of the red tape Gus must navigate.

The story presents a clearly mapped conflict and well-defined character dynamics, but the production doesn’t quite allow tension to fully thicken. The dialogue is sharp and engaging, delivered with confidence and ownership, yet the central performance does not fully sustain the dramatic engine of the piece. The show communicates the dilemmas of scientific advancement effectively, though it leans more toward cautionary framing than a deeper excavation of its protagonist.

Even so, Panacea succeeds in making complex science feel accessible and engaging. In a post-COVID-19 landscape, and amid the ongoing crisis of antimicrobial resistance, it offers a timely reminder: scientific progress is not purely technical, but shaped by individuals with all their human virtues and flaws.

This show runs at Riverside Studios until 21st March. Tickets here.

REVIEW: The Beekeeper in Aleppo

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A powerful story of exile

Written by Cristy Lefteri, The Beekeeper of Aleppo explores diasporic trauma during the Syrian civil war. It follows Nuri, a beekeeper from Aleppo (Adam Sina), and his wife Afra (Farah Saffari), an artist losing her eyesight after their son is killed in a bombing. Forced to flee to Syria, the couple took their journey across Turkey and Greece, searching asylum in the UK, which means they need to directly face the Border Control, the Home Office and the NHS.

Although I have not read the original novel, this story does remind me of The Kite Runners as both profoundly undergo displacement and forced immigration during war, and how such upheaval can reshape and transform humanity. While I do not doubt the depth of Lefteri’s writing, this theatrical adaptation, scripted by Nessrin Alrefaai and Matthew Spangler, directed by Anthony Almeida and Miranda Cromwell, and produced by Nottingham Playhouse, leaves more perplexity than clarity. 

Ruby’ Pugh stage design presents two sculpted mounds with two door-way entrance and a window, sketched by a skeletal framework covered by a projection scrim. While the projection helps to situate the place of action by projecting “Home Office,” “NHS”, “Athens” “Aleppo” with doodle-style drawings, they do very little to streamline the narrative, nor go hand-in-hand with director’s blocking for the ensemble. The design also hinders the scene transitions, leaving the storytelling much chopped up. For instance, one of the story’s central plot-twist, the truth behind the existence of Mohammed(Dona Atallah), a refugee boy the couple meet during their exile journey, is signifcantly flattened due to insufficient foreshadowing in directorial decisions. Likewise, the dangerous “boat crossing”, which should be climatic and visceral, concludes the first half as surprisingly lukewarm and underwhelming. 

This also weakens the story’s core metaphor of the bee and the beekeeper. The audience can certainly grasp the parallel – bees as communal and connecting, and the beekeeper as caring and guiding. However, the dramaturgical and directorial choices simply reduce it to a binary contrast of “happy past in Aleppo” vs. “hardship of forced immigration in the UK”. Even within that simplified duality, certain moments, such as Nuri describing his duties as a beekeeper to the Home Office officer, lose their emotional weight and struggle to reach the depth. Similarly, the officer’s questions feel illogical and fragmented. While this may reflect real-life UK bureau system, these quickly shifted questions lack a well-structured narrative end for Naru and Afra’s story.

The show ends with Nuri’s reunion with his cousin, Mustafa, brilliantly performed by Joseph Long, who provides most of the humour of the night, balancing Sina’s hyper-charged portrayal of Nuri. As the projection scrim falls down, revealing an English dusk on the backdrop. While I won’t doubt the book hinted trait of hope, this visual resolution hardly leaves any lingering resonance.

REVIEW: What I’d Be

Published on by sarasioufi1Leave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

 A showcase for two finely tuned performances and a thoughtful exploration of sisterhood under strain

In the intimate upstairs room of the Jack Studio Theatre in Brockley, What I’d Be sets itself a deceptively simple task. Written by Tanieth Kerr and directed by Katy Livsey, the two-hander follows estranged sisters Makayla and Ally as they meet on a park bench after their mother’s funeral. Over the course of a tightly contained hour, the play asks whether shared history is enough to repair a fractured bond.

The Jack Studio, perched above the Brockley Jack pub, is not a space that tolerates half measures. The stage is compact, the audience close enough to catch the smallest flicker of doubt. It is here that the production finds its greatest strength. Both actors are utterly present, inhabiting the space with a concentration that never slips. In such proximity, any false note would clang. Instead, their performances feel precise and lived-in.

The constriction of the stage sharpens the drama. The actors use that to their advantage. Their exchanges crackle not because the dialogue is showy, but because the listening is active. Each line appears to land and register before the next is fired back. The sense of shared history is palpable, not just in what is said but in how quickly the temperature changes.

The play tackles raw material: grief, estrangement, and the long shadow cast by a formative rupture in the sisters’ past. There is a temptation in such narratives to overstate, to heighten every confrontation into a crescendo. Instead, the production opts for restraint. The tone is tender without becoming sentimental. Even at its most painful, the writing maintains a degree of composure, allowing the actors to carry the emotional weight rather than forcing it.

The sisters’ dynamic is sharply observed. Their humour is edged, their affection reluctant. They slip easily into old patterns of provocation and defensiveness. What makes it compelling is that neither woman is positioned as entirely right or wrong. The play understands that estrangement rarely rests on a single grievance; it accumulates, layer by layer, until the distance feels irreversible. Watching them attempt to unpick that accumulation is the evening’s quiet triumph.

Where the production falters slightly is in its structure. The most significant twist, the revelation that reframes much of their history, takes place offstage and is relayed through dialogue. As a result, the play leans heavily on exposition. Characters recount events, clarify misunderstandings and piece together timelines. While this deepens our understanding, it also slows the momentum. The audience is told about the rupture rather than experiencing its shock alongside the characters.

That decision limits the dramatic impact of what should be the play’s most seismic moment. Because we encounter it second-hand, its emotional reverberations feel somewhat contained. The script gestures towards the enormity of the event but stops short of fully interrogating it in the present tense. There is a sense that the material could withstand greater risk, that a more sustained confrontation might have unearthed further complexity.

And yet, even in its more explanatory passages, the production retains its grip thanks to the actors’ discipline. They find subtext in lines that might otherwise feel functional. A simple correction of a memory carries accusation; a moment of hesitation suggests doubt about one’s own narrative. In this way, the play becomes less about the factual details of the twist and more about the competing stories we tell ourselves to survive.

Importantly, What I’d Be resists tidy resolution. The sisters do not arrive at catharsis in the conventional sense. Their reconciliation, if it can be called that, is tentative and partial. The damage remains visible. This refusal to overpromise feels honest. The play acknowledges that some wounds alter the shape of a relationship permanently, even if contact is restored.

In a larger venue, the piece might struggle to command attention. At the Jack Studio, its intimacy works in its favour. The audience is drawn into the sisters’ orbit, made privy to a conversation that feels almost private. When the lights fall, the prevailing mood is not one of spectacle but of recognition.

What I’d Be may rely too heavily on exposition to deliver its central revelation, but as a showcase for two finely tuned performances and a thoughtful exploration of sisterhood under strain, it makes a persuasive case for the power of small-scale theatre. In a room where every breath counts, it holds its nerve.

What I’d Be ran at the Jack Studio Theatre, Brockley, from 17–21 February 2026.

More information: https://brockleyjack.co.uk/jackstudio-entry/what-id-be/

REVIEW: Talking People – Feb 16th

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

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.

REVIEW: BORDERS: Digital, Political, Emotional

Published on by mollypavordLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

…an ambitious and promising first outing.

Meteatra’s debut, BORDERS: Digital, Political, Emotional at the Arcola Theatre, is an ambitious and promising first outing, aiming to bridge London and Istanbul through six short plays by competition winners Aine King, Andrew Lawston, Banu Şenel, Salman Siddiqi, Erdoğan Soytürk, and Tamara von Werthern. The evening hits some truly powerful emotional peaks and offers genuine insight into the experiences of immigrants – the struggles, the risks, and the search for a place to belong. While not every scene lands perfectly, the performances and ideas on stage show real heart and commitment.

There’s a lot of sharp irony running through the night. In one piece, we’re reminded how people rally to save a panda but struggle to show the same care for human lives. Ates Togrul and İrem Cavusoglu bring the scene to life, highlighting the contrast between concern for animals and neglect for people in need. That irony continues in Andrew Lawston’s Guess Who’s Computing to Dinner, where Matthew Hodson plays the AI robot John Murdoch. The scene is funny, cringey, and pointed: while everyone seems to worry about immigrants “taking our jobs,” it’s actually the machines and technology we’ve built ourselves that are the real threat. Some comedic beats shine brilliantly, though the pacing wobbles slightly at times.

Mutfak, Göç ve Boncuk was a personal favourite. Performed in Turkish with English surtitles, it centres on Boncuk, played with warmth and subtle humour by Koray Can Yanasik. They are a flirty, playful cooking staff member, but it’s clear that the charm is partly protective – a way to be liked, to stay safe, and get through a job where “they won’t treat me nice.” Occasionally, actors stepped in front of the projection wall, causing a few lines to be lost, but the emotional impact remained strong.

Later pieces tackle identity, courage, and human vulnerability. Openly Muslim follows Inayat Kanji’s protagonist navigating microaggressions from Charlotte Reidie’s journalist and John Gregor as the boss, showing the cost of standing by your beliefs when a post about Gaza draws complaint. Aine King’s Sea Monsters delivers raw emotion as Serpil Delice portrays a young person on a desperate journey alongside John Gregor and Matthew Hodson, contrasting the risks on the boats with the cold detachment of those on shore. The final piece, One of Them by Tamara von Werthern, performed by Ece Ozdemiroglu, is honest and reflective, at times heartbreakingly so, offering quiet, lingering moments. Together, these works hit hard, even if some writing felt slightly long-winded and pacing uneven in places.

All in all, Borders is a thoughtful and heartfelt start for Meteatra. The writing isn’t always perfectly polished, and a few moments stumble, but the performances are strong, the themes important, and the emotional resonance lasting. It doesn’t always come together seamlessly, but it’s an ambitious, human-centred evening that stays with you long after you leave the theatre.