REVIEW: Southern Light: Jesus Christ Superstar


Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

An ambitious take on Lloyd-Weber’s classic and chaotic rock-opera


As soon as the iconic opening riff of Jesus Christ Superstar rang out in the Festival Theatre on Wednesday night the auditorium settled into a chilling quiet. The sole guitar held the audience on the edge of its seat until the lights came up to reveal the poised cast, just shy of 100, and a stripped back, imposing set. The first note I took during the performance: oh, what an opening!

Southern Light’s 2025 production has taken the Festival Theatre stage by storm, filling the space with a huge and talented cast, taking on such a legendary and complicated score with confidence. 

Direction from Fraser Grant fashions Southern Light’s large ensemble into a chorus reminiscent of more traditional operas, looming in the background throughout. This presence is imposing, as the ensemble are always observing, filming, and whispering in the shadows, but it did become a distraction at other points in the show. During crucial, emotional moments in the production, such as Gethsemane and Damned For All Time, the chorus’ torch-lit presence felt a little too intrusive, perhaps not as impactful as intended. Directing such a large cast on such a vast stage is commendable, though, and Grant clearly has a knack for it, there were just moments where a pause from the oratorio staging and ever-present chorus would have been welcomed. Also part of the set design team alongside James Gow, Grant’s vision for the production was original, blending the abstract and realistic together. There were a lot of elements to the set beyond what was physically on stage, with camera crews, shrouds, spray paint and phones used throughout to place us in a more modern era, exploring ‘Christ as Celebrity’. Overall, this paid off, it was definitely an inventive vision for the opera. At times there were perhaps too many things all at once, but then again this was conducive to the sense of chaos that characterises much of the production. Gow’s lighting design also had this sense of over-ambition in places, lagging spotlights were particularly distracting. 

Musical director Fraser Hume, assisted by Evie Alberti, has done a great justice to such an iconic score. Holding the 11-strong orchestra with confidence, Hume’s conducting was incredibly effective and supported the cast throughout to create a truly polished sound. When combined with choreography from Louise Williamson, this production really found itself in the larger, more upbeat numbers such as King Herod’s Song. A real standout moment of the whole production was Simon Zealotes/Poor Jerusalem. Led by Gigi Guyot as Simon, this energetic dance number filled the stage with conviction and skill. The incorporation of gymnastics, a little Fosse influence in Herod’s number, and several featured dancers felt very well placed, allowing everyone to have a moment to shine and add to these more vibrant numbers. The 12 apostles contributed to this sense of energy, moving as an obviously close-knit and engaged group. Throughout, Lara Kidd’s captivating Mary could be found with this group. Kidd’s apparent return to theatre is a great success, her characterisation appears extremely professional and considered, holding both the audience and her cast-mates on her every word. Kidd gives Mary a playful edge, interacting earnestly with Peter, poking fun at Judas, and ever supportive of Jesus, there was a real humanity to go alongside some stunning vocals. 

Colin Sutherland (Jesus) and Ethan Baird (Judas) maintain a believable and affective battle from start to finish, both in characterisation and powerful vocal performances. From his first entrance, Baird is unwavering in his commitment to Judas’ demanding numbers, giving a practiced blend of belt and breakdown. Mostly mirroring this energy, Sutherland’s Jesus is confident and commanding, with vocals to match. A little variation in volume and emotion would’ve developed this performance even more, but such an accomplished role has here been performed admirably. 

Other notable performances from classically-pompous Herod (Stephen Boyd) and some Matrix-esque Priests (led by Nathan Auerbach’s Caiaphas) rounded this production’s sense of imposition and action well. A special mention must be given to Darren Johnson’s Pilate, an extremely well measured performance that balanced an immense amount of detailed emotion both physically and vocally. Trial Before Pilate is long and notoriously difficult to keep engaging, but Johnson’s performance was acted tremendously, there was surely not an unengaged eye in the room. Overall, Southern Light has produced an energetic, confidently-led iteration of a famously demanding show. Standout performances blended with a confident ensemble makes this a very engaging night at the theatre.

Jesus Christ Superstar runs until the 10th of May at the Festival Theatre. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: The Gang of Three


Rating: 3 out of 5.

“A well written and performed play that any fan of 1970s/80s Labour politics will love.”


The Gang of Three is the newest play written by duo Robert Khan and Tom Salinksy, and details the tumultuous professional relationship between three leading members of the Labour party as they jockey for power in the 1970s/80s. This follows previous successful runs of politics themed shows written by the duo including Brexit and Coalition, but on this occasion we are looking back in time to the previous century where the decisions made and not made have ramifications that can be seen across the decades. 

I will admit now to not being familiar at all with Roy Jenkins, Denis Healey and Tony Crosland, the three Labour politicians that feature in this show played by Hywel Morgan, Colin Tierney, and Alan Cox respectably, and so I am unable to comment on how well their likeness or mannerisms are presented on the stage. I can say however that all 3 actors gave strong performances. The script can most definitely be described as verbose, as one would imagine is typical of how 3 Oxford graduates from the 1900s would speak, and all 3 actors bring a lightness and great variety to their portrayals. Colin Tierney as Denis Healey is a stand-out and ups the energy once he appears in the second scene, and the scenes that involved him always felt fresher and more exciting than those that did not. 

There is no real getting around the fact that if you are not already familiar with Labour party politics of the 1970s/80s, then there will definitely be jokes and references that you will miss. I only know that I was missing these instances by the laughs of others in the room who had greater knowledge of this period. With a less forgiving or involved audience this could lead to some of the lines falling flat and seeming out of place, as if you don’t know that they are referencing something then the lines just come off a bit clunky. Any lack of knowledge of this period of history however, does not mean that you won’t be able to follow the plot. The show makes good use of newscaster voice overs to provide details and context for the conversations taking place, so there is no pre-reading required to be able to understand. 

The script is most certainly witty with clever and funny lines smattered throughout and is in-keeping of the classic genre of play with smart men talking in rooms and setting the world to rights. Each scene is given suitable time to breathe with peaks and troughs that keep you on your toes. One slightly puzzling scene however takes us back in time to 1940 with 2 of the characters at university where we explore their surprising romantic history. This gave interesting extra context and intrigue for the previous scenes, and added greater emotional death to one of the later scenes, but it did feel ever so slightly out of place. This could have been expanded upon further with more scenes showing the earlier relationships between these men and how this impacted their political decision making in the future, but just having one scene that does this felt incongruous.

While this play is set in the 20th century, it was written and is being performed in the 21st century, and I am unsure what it has to offer to a modern audience. If this is something you lived through it is an opportunity to look back at a dramatic retelling of possible behind the curtain events. This show felt like it was striving for a greater point but I don’t think it ever actually got there and at times the characters all just come across as tone deaf and deeply unlikeable. This is perhaps intentional, but if so I struggle to find what it is that the audience is meant to grab onto or take away from this show. 

In conclusion, this is a well written and well performed play, but unless you are already familiar with the subject matter you will feel like there is something deeper being said that you are missing out on. 

The Gang of Three is playing at the Kings Head Theatre until 1st June. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: An Oak Tree


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“A captivating, blurry, thought-provoking trip through grief from one of the best”


Tim Crouch is known for creating divisive, interesting, influential work, and An Oak Tree is no exception. First staged in 2005, this 20th anniversary production at the Young Vic feels fresh as ever. The story is simple: a father loses his daughter in a car accident. The driver of the car that killed her is a stage hypnotist. The two men meet for the first time when the father volunteers for the hypnotist’s act. The twist? At each performance, Crouch is joined by a different guest artist who has neither seen nor read a single word of the play.

What follows is something funny, remarkable, captivating, and moving, all with the air of a magician showing us how he’s doing the trick. Crouch guides his guest, in our case the wonderful Jessie Buckley, through each moment like a kind yet uncanny parent. Or puppeteer. There are instructions Crouch delivers to Buckley that the audience can hear, and those he delivers via a mic and headphones to Buckley alone. There are purely scripted moments, and times where Buckley is encouraged to play. It’s a spellbinding thing, to watch a talented performer journey through each scene with the naivety of a willing child–or a grieving father.

To narrow down what the show is about beyond stock themes feels unfair to the endeavour. Sure, it’s about grief and loss and what those things make us do – but it’s also about the leverage of belief, perspective versus reality, the illusion of control, the impact of contrivance. It’s a show about theatre, about the relationship the audience has with those onstage. Of course there are times we don’t accept that Jessie Buckley is a 6ft 2 grieving father in his 40s, but then there are times we do. The character thinks she has turned her dead daughter into a tree. Unbelievable? Sure. But aren’t we turning Buckley into something else?

While the show inevitably contains jeopardy (who knows how our performer might react?), in Crouch’s experienced hands the show feels strangely secure and its plot surprisingly watertight. There are many writers out there who wish they were as good as Tim Crouch.


The show also serves as a pleasant reminder of what talented theatremakers can do with merely a handful of chairs and a mixing desk. No need for the glitzy distractions of Gatsby here, only simple, well-employed sound effects and masterful writing which dips and dives from lyrical poeticism to uncomfortable bluntness, from self-deprecating jabs to heart-hitting misdirections. There are many worse versions of this play being created in a world without Crouch.

On our night, Jessie Buckley was a joy to watch–equal parts heartwarming and compelling. Was her cackling a character choice or her embarrassment escaping? The genius is that either works in this show involving grief; there’s a ridiculousness in the sadness. Buckley was as happy to play the joke (even tongue-playing a piano at one stage) as she was to scream at the audience if the moment suggested it. It is easy to imagine how each actor could bring something new to this work, even things they might not realise, such as Buckley’s pregnant belly which added a new angle to her character’s loss. One thing’s for sure; we’re safe with Crouch at the wheel.

It’s hard to put a number on a show like this. What I can say is that I’ve been telling everyone about it. About how it has made me think about control and theatre and belief and the role of the audience as contributors. Mostly about grief and the way its inevitability can lead to both deep connection and strong detachment.

It’s a great night out. You just have to say yes.

An Oak Tree runs until 24th May at the Young Vic. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Death of A Salesman


Rating: 4 out of 5.

Beautifully Harrowing


Arthur Miller’s classic 1949 play Death of a Salesman has been one of my favourites since I studied it at A level, so when I got the chance to review Trafalgar Theatre Productions and Raw Material’s production at The Lowry, I jumped at it. I was worried my high expectations and love for the play text might leave me disappointed, but I needn’t have been. This production is incredible. 

Death of a Salesman is a difficult play to stage, but director Andy Arnold did it well. Time blurs throughout the play, with the past and present overlapping to reflect Willy Loman’s mental state and this was handed with finesse and sophistication. Present day was marked by a harsh, cold blue light that heightened the bareness of the wooden stage and the stark tree backdrop. The past was flooded by warmer tones, transforming the same tree into something more hopeful and alive. Rory Beaton’s lighting design paired with Neil Hayne’s minimalist set design reflected and signposted the emotional shifts of the narrative beautifully.  As the play progressed into the second act and Willy’s confusion deepened, the distinction between past and present grew more chaotic, yet never confusing, showing a thoughtful and sensitive direction. 

The cast was outstanding. Daniel Cahill and Michael Wallace as Biff and Happy Loman bounced between children and adults with skill, comedy and most of all chemistry. This chemistry extended to the entirety of the Loman family and the scenes between the four of them, grounded by Beth Marshall’s strength as Linda, were so moving and heartbreaking. One of my favourite things about Miller’s writing is the nuanced complexity of his characters as there are never any true heroes or villains and the actors embraced this fully. David Hayman’s Willy Loman was portrayed beautifully with a perfect balance of insecurity, delusion and vulnerability. His exhaustion was palpable, particularly in the opening scene where he mutters to himself off to the side even when he isn’t directly in the scene. It was subtle, effective, and deeply affecting. I also need to note that the Brooklyn accents were impressively consistent, especially considering the Scottish cast. 

The play is, at its heart, a tragedy. If you’re concerned that you may be affected by difficult themes, I would definitely recommend looking up the trigger warnings beforehand. It is a deeply human story of an average family whose dreams and expectations ultimately lead to their downfall. The play captures the terrible unravelling of a man whilst simultaneously offering a sharp commentary on the realities of the American Dream, which still resonates today. 

Ultimately this was a stunning production of an incredible text. It is astute, human and so heartbreakingly relevant I was in tears by the end. I would recommend it to anyone. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Alex Stroming

We sat down for an exclusive with Alex Stroming ahead of T Regina Theatre company’s upcoming production of Scenes with Girls at the Golden Goose Theatre from April 22nd to May 3rd.


What drew you to Miriam Battye’s Scenes with Girls, and how did you approach adapting it for a new audience? 

One line got me hooked as a happily single 20-something woman— “If she’s going to ask me to be a bridesmaid or something, I’m going to throw up a fucking kidney”— I had just been a bridesmaid three times in six months (no offense to those couples, I love you all and was so happy to be part of your day)! But the overall message was so relatable. I was so delighted at Miriam Battye’s (MB) imagery and comedy, so intrigued by her unapologetic, quirky characters, and laughing through my confusion. By the end, I was a little catatonic, struck by how accurately she put words to experiences that mirrored my own friendships. She takes the relationships and conflicts that we are taught are not very important (even though they shape us and make us feel so many feelings) and puts them in the spotlight.

In terms of adapting it for a new audience, there wasn’t much to adapt. The play is already so relatable and brilliant as it is– I think that its recognition was unfairly stunted by the pandemic. Of course now MB has had award-winning success with Succession and Strategic Love Play— Scenes with girls deserves just as much recognition and love. We have just relished digging into the text and MB’s iconic stage directions (“full of internal pyrotechnics, outwardly still”). It’s been a year now since I first picked it up, and I still make new discoveries at every single rehearsal. That is such an exciting and incredible gift!

The play features 22 short scenes. How did you decide on the pacing and transitions to maintain emotional continuity throughout the performance?

In terms of pacing, one of the first stage directions of the play is something like “time with Lou and Tosh is like a collective reverie, their conversation dances, they communicate, very, very, very quickly”. Let me tell you, this is MUCH easier said than done, and I am in awe of Hannah, Lyndsey, Eli, and Emilys’ ability to bring this stage direction to life with such playfulness. Without giving too many spoilers, part of the fun of the play is discovering how those 22 short scenes connect; there are a couple of delicious plot twists. There is a little bit of mystery in what happens between the scenes— we have our ideas which inform our choices, but depending on their own experiences, every audience member is going to have a slightly different interpretation. This has been the most fun part of talking to people after they experience it— hearing what they imagined between the lines.

Were there any lines or scenes that felt especially central to your interpretation of the story? How did you emphasise their importance?

Two lines come to mind, first when Tosh says “I genuinely think in five to ten years we are going to have several different possible ‘happy’s’” 

First, the idea that there can, and should, and will be more than one version of “happily ever after”. As a queer woman who’s on the asexuality spectrum, this idea is so meaningful to me— questioning what we mean by “happily ever after,” not only in terms of who we ride off into the sunset with, but whether we must ride off into the sunset at all. What the hell is so great about that sunset anyways?! How much different could life be if we enjoyed every part of the journey, embracing change, instead of chasing an idealized version of “happy” that ultimately is as elusive and unstable as a beam of light? 

Second, when Lou says “You won’t celebrate this. You won’t, like, pore over this for reasons why you are. That’ll be Significant Relationship’s that’s His. This. This isn’t the story this was just a given. This was all a given.”

I think that people are starting to understand that it’s an unrealistic/unhealthy expectation for your romanic partner to be your sole support system, that it’s important to seek love and support from many relationships in your life. My platonic friendships have been the most impactful in my life, and not because they have been easy and simple— because they have been painful and difficult at times. Those conflicts have shaped and sharpened me into the person who I am today. This play leans into the depth, vulnerability, intimacy, and intensity of Love, even when there is no sexual attraction involved. It probes at the idea of romanticism and passion in platonic relationships— but specifically, asks us to reflect on which relationships we value in most in our lives, and more importantly, why?

In terms of emphasizing their importance, I think MB has pretty much done that work for us in her brilliant writing. We only need awareness (of their importance); she makes it easy. 

How do you think this play resonates with contemporary discussions around gender, autonomy, and the portrayal of women in theatre?

I feel like I already answered this by accident! In addition to my previous musings, I would just add that it’s important to have representation of women being messy and gross and mean and wrong and politically incorrect and HUMAN. To show that we are capable of making mistakes and that’s not because there’s something wrong with us, it’s because we are people moving through the world and it is impossible to move through the world without causing harm. And trust me, as a recovering perfectionist and chronic people-pleaser, this is a truth I have to swallow at least every two weeks. 

I think women have less permission to fail than men do, and part of that is inequity in society and part of that is that we don’t give ourselves permission to get back up and keep trying. In chasing perfection, we end up on an endless loop that goes nowhere. And this isn’t just about women/gender (which isn’t binary anyways), it applies to other marginalized groups, underrepresented identities, and raises questions about privilege and society and historical precedence…but that’s a can of worms that I don’t think I have time to open right now—find me in the pub afterwards!

Do you feel there’s a unique energy or dynamic that emerges when women collaborate on stories about women?

Unequivocally, yes. But I could be wrong. Come see the play and let me know what you think.

REVIEW: Per-Verse


Rating: 4 out of 5.

Georgie Wedge makes poetry sexy again in this impressive debut.


Playing at Riverside Studios in Hammersmith, Georgie Wedge brings her one-woman show Per-Verse for a limited London run after debuting at the Edinburgh Fringe. The thought of another biographic one-hander can cause some to writhe with good reason. Wedge, however, isn’t giving us an evening of warts and all monologues in any old way, no, she does it all through poetry. Now, some may be even more put off at this proposal, but Wedge manages to deliver a short, charming work that breathes new life to the typical Fringey confessional with break-neck poetic punnery.

Per-Verse is a fast paced romp through an everywoman’s dating life. Beginning at a brunch, Wedge begins to go into performance mode as she regales her gal-pals with her tale of the most recent sexual exploit. She goes into meticulous detail — as is customary at these boozy brunches — with each new discovery unlocking the memory of a past encounter. It’s Inception levels of story building, but Wedge maintains a strong sense of clarity.

Her poetic delivery becomes more obvious as we delve further into the past, and when rudely interrupted by the voiceover of an uninterested friend, she snaps back to the brunch in a more pedestrian meter. This manner of storytelling is not just a gimmick to get bums on seats at your local fringe festival. It is also an examination of the need we feel to glamourise and romanticise our humdrum lives into something exciting, a performance — especially when bottomless drinks are involved. Wedge often cringes when she is awkward and smirks when she procures the perfect punchline, like her need to perform holds her body hostage.

Wedge succeeds in never taking herself too seriously in her poetic style: a mix of lofty Rupi Kaur metaphors and speedy John Cooper Clark wordplay, all presented with a sense of referential irony — stereotypical slam tropes are employed for extra comedic effect. What really stands out however is the physicality. Wedge, with just an expression, is able to switch between fuck-boys, STI clinicians, or her many exaggerated alter egos with brisk ease. Her quick asides and wall-breaking eludes to an innate savviness, she is seemingly always thinking on her toes, shooting at the hip with the next zinger.

We learn this is her first ever show that she’s written, which is quite an impressive feat, it’s a huge amount of detailed material and evidently took a lot of prosaic smarts to make. Georgie Wedge, with Per-Verse, demonstrates her all her canny wit and potential with this endearing piece. I snap my fingers in approval.

REVIEW:Back to Terra Firma


Rating: 3 out of 5.

An ambitious but promising piece of environmental futurism at Battersea’s beloved Theatre503.


Pulling off a ninety-minute piece of environmental futurism is no easy task – especially when few people these days feel like thinking about climate change, let alone the future. This unassuming three-hander, playing for a limited run at Theatre503, does an astonishingly good job at cracking open that can of worms.

Written and directed by Tamsin Flower, Back to Terra Firma follows a Romeo & Juliet– like story, mapped onto a near-future England split in two: City and Farmland. Ollie (Linn Johansson), a medical saleswoman from the City, and James (Matthew Coulton), a Farmland official, have to navigate the boundaries of their two very separate worlds as they fall in love. As they do so, they sift through the nuances, perks, and risks of their two extremes of living – one very poor, yet in harmony with the Earth (Farmland); the other wealthy and well-armored against it (City). Through James’ and Ollie’s budding relationship and its nature as a story set in the future, Back to Terra Firma reckons subtly with present-day anxiety about how to live “correctly” in step with the natural world and the boundaries we constantly have to cross in order to do so. 

There were quite a few bits that got lost in the weedy details – nothing out of the ordinary for a piece set in an unfamiliar geopolitical future. There were, understandably, quite a few rules to clarify in this new world of Terra Firma. It wasn’t clear, for example, where the feral boy that James takes care of came from or how – prior to landing on Terra Firma –  he’d gotten mixed up with a child army of incels and eco-terrorists. Or why, given that background, anyone thought it worthwhile to “rehabilitate” the kid. It also, more generally, wasn’t clear just how dire the state of the Farmlanders was, which muddied the stakes to a degree.

The maze of detail, however, was effectively cancelled out by the combined talent of the show’s cast as well as its brilliantly simple approach to staging. 

Put simply, the evening was a testament to grounded actors and wheeled set pieces. The drastic theatrical changes demanded as the play’s action migrated between Farmland and City were no match for this cast’s carefully choreographed set transformations. For a story in which a rooted sense of place – either City or Farmland – was vital for the characters and audience, Back to Terra Firma couldn’t have lived up to its title more, creating in a fringe theatre what even the most well-funded productions on the biggest stages often fail to achieve: a believable home for its characters.
I’m particularly hopeful about this humble little piece of environmental futurist theatre. Back to Terra Firma has all the elements it needs – a phenomenal cast, tasteful direction, and a highly relevant smattering of prescient themes – to take its next step forward, into its own exciting future.

REVIEW: Jab


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A dysfunctional relationship falls apart during the COVID lockdowns


Everyone’s COVID lockdown experience was different: some relished the opportunity to spend more time with their families; others panicked at the uncertainty of having lost a stable income; many suffered the loss of a loved one. For Anne (Kacey Ainsworth) and Don (Liam Tobin), lockdown means isolating together, and their relationship isn’t a pretty one. As their lives shrink to contain just one another, an already troubled dyamic spirals downwards. Previously energetic banter morphs into genuine malice, and simmering in the background are the rising death toll and a very real uncertainty about humanity’s future.

Neither Anne nor Don is particularly easy to like: he weaponises incompetence to get what he feels entitled to, whilst she uses the fact she makes the most money as a weapon at every opportunity. Both hold onto grudges, letting them ferment into bitterness. It’s a testament to James McDermot’s sharply observed writing (and engaging onstage performances) that you end up rooting for them anyway. There’s a wonderful humanity to this couple; a spiky one for sure, but humanity nonetheless.

Told as a series of domestic vignettes – arguing over what to watch on television, discussing what colour to paint the living room – Jab is given shape by the nightly death toll announcements rumbling from the television. At the start of the lockdowns, the couple seem to always be either bickering or dancing (and sometimes both at once!), but as things get more serious in the outside world their relationship collapses. The show’s title could refer either to the increasingly personal barbs thrown across the living room, or the prospect of a vaccine that Don is powerfully skeptical about. Ainsworth in particular sears with anger, landing devastating argument-winning lines. She’s a case study in how seemingly insignificant moments can fester below the surface of a relationship.

Jab is certainly not a comedy, and earlier scenes attempting to strike a light-hearted tone fall a little flat – this couple hate one another a bit too convincingly to be funny. But as a drama they are compelling, capturing the essence of being utterly normal people at such an utterly abnormal time. This juxtaposition of mundanity and apocalyptic news items evokes the early COVID lockdowns perfectly, bringing back memories of huddling around the nightly briefing, and hushed talk of emergency hospitals and ventilator shortages. Excellent sound design enhances this resonance, cutting through any remnants of cosiness with a shrill note of menace.

Some areas could be developed, however. Performing so much of the show sitting or lying down is a bizarre choice for the low rake of the Park90, leaving the audience craning their necks at pivotal scenes. An important COVID test reveal is easy to miss if you don’t know where to look, sapping its dramatic effect. Whilst the drama is enrapturing, it takes a while to spin up and neither Anne nor Don are particularly pleasant company while it does.

But once it gets into gear, Jab is an incredible piece of theatre. By exploring domestic life during lockdown, it is at once an important historical record and gripping kitchen-sink drama. Incredible writing, sharp observations and strong performances ensure both of these aims are achieved powerfully. This is what theatre is made for: an important, profound, and intimate experience that matters, and an arresting portrait of a time many are still processing.

Jab plays at the Park Theatre until 26th April, with Thursday and Saturday matinees. Tickets can be purchased here.

REVIEW: Dead and Kicking


Rating: 5 out of 5.

A witty tragicomedy about a woman’s fight to be considered alive 


In 2016, French woman Jeanne Pouchain found herself unable to apply for a passport, turned away from the public health system, and forced to pay in full for her insulin. After seeking answers to these inconveniences, she discovers something shocking – she has been legally declared DEAD! Through original songs, dances, goofy antics, and heartfelt performances, Dead and Kicking tells the story of Jeanne’s quest to prove that she is alive. 

I was compelled to attend the show based solely on the premise. I was initially unaware it was based on truth! Dead and Kicking is just as naughtily funny as its synopsis – and it is the four supporting actors in particular (Tilly Botsford, Rosa Collier, Larissa Crafford-Lazarus, Ezra Saifie) that deliver these divine jokes to perfection. We have them running rings around our bewildered protagonist, and finding the most absurd uses for simple props such as a debit card and disembodied computer keyboards. We have Crafford-Lazarus putting her head through a gargoyle cut-out and delivering disrespectful advice to poor Jeanne. There are laughs damn near every second, a testament to the sheer skill, confidence, and sizzling chemistry of the supporting cast! 

Camilla Anvar plays Jeanne spectacularly. She displays a great deal of empathy for Jeanne – her story is as disturbing as it is funny, and this is reflected in the brilliant blend of comedy and drama in Anvar’s performance. In addition, even when the supporting actors play up their shenanigans to the maximum, Anvar is never lost in the chaos. One could say that Anvar’s stage presence is reflective of Jeanne’s fight; just as Jeanne is being shunned repeatedly, Anvar is constantly at risk of being upstaged by her fellow actors. And yet, Anvar comes in with guns blazing, showing us all that she is the story’s focus, and that Jeanne is worth fighting for. Her performance is a triumph, incredibly difficult to nail. And she nailed it!! 

What with all the gags and the original songs, I was surprised Dead and Kicking was only around an hour long! The writers ensure we are always entertained, and I certainly was – my cheeks hurt from smiling so much! Dead and Kicking is a FUN play, certainly one I’d come to see again. 

Dead and Kicking is also an excellent social commentary, exposing all the ways in which systems and companies screw us over. We can all relate to being told that those we seek help from “are experiencing a high volume of calls” (who is ACTUALLY telephoning a passport application office all at the same time?!). We have all felt the frustration of being told ‘no’ when we offer a solution more helpful or innovative than what the companies can come up with. Time and time again, Jeanne is denied the help that can be so easily given. Her life has been made miserable because companies refuse to break free from the limits they have placed upon themselves. They dehumanise people. Dead and Kicking calls for justice, for the audience to be frustrated as well as have a good laugh.  

I’m glad that those involved in the production knew it wasn’t just a silly little thing that some woman went through. Jeanne Pouchain’s story of injustice is absolutely worth telling, and I do hope Dead and Kicking stays alive and thriving! I loved this play!

Suitable for ages 14+. 

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Katharine Farmer

Reimagining Simon Stephens’ 2015 play a decade later, Katharine Farmer’s new direction of Heisenberg reinterprets the story of identity and loneliness as a queer female romance. In bustling St Pancras train station, Georgie, a young free spirit, impulsively plants a kiss on the neck of Alex, a reserved 70-year-old woman sitting on a bench. Challenging heteronormative expectations, Katharine Farmer’s interpretation strips away the familiar power dynamics of an age-gap relationship to unravel the complexities of human relationships. We sat down with director, Katharine Farmer, to discuss her upcoming production.

How does your reimagining of Heisenberg as a queer female relationship alter the dynamics and themes of the play compared to previous productions?

Reimagining Heisenberg with a queer female relationship at its centre allows us to explore the play’s themes of uncertainty and connection without the heteronormative expectations of a younger man and a younger woman. The age gap between Alex and Georgie takes on new dimensions when viewed through queer experience, particularly how society perceives and often dismisses relationships between women of different generations. 

The original text’s exploration of chance encounters and unlikely connections resonates differently when we consider how queer people often find each other across boundaries that might otherwise separate them. It doesn’t fundamentally change the play’s brilliant meditation on uncertainty, but rather illuminate different facets of it, revealing how queer relationships often exist in spaces of beautiful ambiguity.

Back in 2019 I directed Heisenberg at Rubicon Theatre Company and Laguna Playhouse in California and absolutely fell in love with the script for its subtle power dynamics, romantic tension, and exploration of how well you can truly know another person. At the play’s core it’s about two lonely people navigating isolation and invisibility and connecting through shared experiences. I’m excited to see what this reimagined casting will bring to these core themes once we fully stage the production. 

Your direction in 23.5 Hours was praised for building a sense of paranoia—how does your approach to Heisenberg create tension or emotional depth in this new interpretation?

23.5 Hours at Park Theatre dealt with societal pressures on a family trying to deal with the aftermath of a conviction. The play’s focal point was a wife who was trying to grapple with seismic uncertainty of whether or not her husband (whom she loved deeply) could also be capable of committing a terrible crime. The play was all about the grey area, and the corrosive power of doubt. Where the characters in 23.5 Hours had external forces closing in on them, the tension in Heisenberg emerges from within the relationship of our protagonists. The uncertainty principle that gives the play its name suggests that the more precisely you know one thing, the less precisely you can know another, which is a metaphor for the emotional landscape between Alex and Georgie.

I’m looking forward to creating moments where intimacy and distance coexist, where confession brings both clarity and confusion. A sense of vertigo where connection feels simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. The tension should come from watching two people who are absolutely certain about some aspects of themselves while being completely adrift in others. The emotional depth emerges not from fear but from vulnerability, and the courage it takes to be seen by another person. 

What drew you to reinterpret Heisenberg a decade after its premiere, and how has your perspective on the play evolved since your first time directing it?

I’m a huge fan of Simon Stephens’ work. When I first worked on Heisenberg it was 2019 and the play felt slightly mystical to me. I was really proud of the production, but in the post-pandemic climate it felt like the play spoke to us on a different level. The sense of social isolation and uncertainty in the play feels much more palpable. Maybe it’s being 6 years older, maybe it’s the political climate, maybe we’re all a little more fragile after the pandemic, but I think Heisenberg in 2025 speaks to how we allow ourselves to be transformed by another person despite all our defenses and how we can take ownership and make choices (even when they’re really hard). 

My perspective has evolved in as far as how profoundly the play speaks to marginalised experiences, how people who exist on society’s periphery develop different relationships to certainty and chance. What once seemed like a play about an eccentric connection now reads to me as a play about finding authenticity. The characters’ willingness to step into uncertainty feels especially resonant at a time when so many of us are questioning established structures and seeking new ways of relating to each other.

How does your experience as Artistic Associate at Arcola Theatre and founder of Blue Touch Paper Productions influence your directorial choices in Heisenberg?

Practically speaking, my experience at Arcola Theatre and seeing so many brilliant productions in Studio 2, and running my own theatre company, has taught me to trust simplicity. To create an environment where actors can fully inhabit complex emotions and just trust the script. We’re approaching this production with a minimalist design that invites audiences to project their own experiences onto the story. Arcola’s intimate space becomes almost a third character in the play, creating a sense that the audience is witnessing something private unfolding in real time.

With Heisenberg exploring uncertainty in relationships, how do you think the play speaks to the broader queer experience and the nuances of human connection?

Heisenberg brilliantly captures how all meaningful relationships require a leap into uncertainty, but I think this resonates particularly strongly with queer experience. Queer people often navigate relationships without the expectations that heteronormative couples inherit. By centering a queer female relationship in this production, we’re highlighting how uncertainty can be not just frightening but liberating. The play ultimately suggests that it’s only by embracing uncertainty that we can discover authentic connection, which speaks powerfully to the queer experience of creating meaning and building relationships outside established structures.

Tickets are available for Heisenberg 9th April – 10th May here.