REVIEW: By Heart


Rating: 3 out of 5.

a passionate reminder of the artistic and spiritual value of memorisation 


‘By Heart’, devised and delivered by Tiago Rodrigues, is a piece of experimental theatre that invites 10 audience members to partake in a group challenge: to memorise Shakespeare’s Sonnet 30 (the one which begins ‘when to the sessions of sweet, silent thought/I summon up remembrance of things pas’t (I did that from memory 🙂 ).

It’s a cool premise: in a world where memorisation is haemorrhaging value, Rodrigues creates a space in which learning a Shakespearean Sonnet ‘by heart’ is the only requirement…if you want to leave, that is (the piece does become increasingly more hostage-like in its vibe).

Line by line, Rodrigues ushers his victims through Sonnet 30. But diversions are rife, often accompanied with things he has memorised, from George Steiner to Ray Bradbury. Of course, memorised lines is kind of what you’d expect when watching theatre. Not like this though, and when Rodrigus veers off course, the tangent aren’t narratively compelling enough to be justified. 

If this were a workshop, and we were all participants, this would be an engaging exercise. Indeed, I followed along with the memorisation exercise. But once you do lock into the task, the slowness and dawdling energy becomes frustrating. As the piece develops, Rodigues – confusingly – becomes less bothered about the imperative to memorise all fourteen lines. Instead, his subjects have to learn the first four lines, then one line each. Given the whole show rides on the value of memorisation, it’s a bit of a let down not to actually prioritise this. Especially when the show ran over an extra fifteen minutes. To be honest, it doesn’t matter the quality of a show if you are not specific about its duration. I think you owe audience members a reliable time frame for your show, because threatening that ‘this will take as long as it takes’ contravenes the theatrical codes of politeness. And that not knowing can overshadow a show entirely. 

Experimental theatre deserves respect and attention, and the ethos here is highly laudable. Memorisation is a skill and an artefact that ought to be celebrated. We’re drowning in our own brainrot, and memory games are helpful in resisting this. But ‘By Heart’ doesn’t know what to do with its audience, and that was jarring. Because, fundamentally, watching other people memorise things is not very entertaining. I appreciate the endeavour, but it needs some structural reconsiderations for it to be a workable premise. As a final comment, I want to stress that Rodrigues is characterful and charming; the current piece just isn’t sustainable in a theatrical environment. I genuinely applaud his passion and ambition, and I do hope he finds a way for this kind of work could flourish dramatically.

REVIEW: HERE & NOW


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“Truly captivating and stunning take on modern ballet.”


McNicol Ballet Collective’s latest programme, HERE & NOW, celebrates the company’s fifth anniversary with a compelling mixed bill of five works. The evening featured standout excerpts from existing pieces alongside a world premiere choreographed by Andrew McNicol, set to an original score by Jeremy Birchall. Act 2 included a behind-the-scenes video offering a glimpse into the creative process, showcasing how McNicol and Birchall collaborated to ensure the choreography was deeply attuned to the music.

Each of the five works had a distinct style, supported by thoughtful choices in costume, music, and lighting that set the tone for each piece. The inventive costumes by Louise Flanagan underscored the contemporary take of the programme while remaining practical, allowing full freedom of movement and accentuating the dancers’ form. Lighting by Yaron Abulafia enhanced both the atmosphere and the choreography, casting the dancers in a way that highlighted their physicality and expression. Music played a central role in programme, with live musicians delivering a beautifully nuanced performance that added depth to the show.

Though still a relatively young and small company, McNicol Ballet Collective is undeniably punching above its weight. The dancers performed with both confidence and joy, shining in solos and pas de deux alike. They moved with the cohesion of a long-established ensemble, as opposed to eight dancers who had previously danced with leading companies worldwide. At times, the dancers fell slightly out of sync with the music, though such moments were rare.

With a diverse and beautifully executed programme, HERE & NOW is a must-see for anyone who appreciates dance and live performance.

REVIEW: Container


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A daring sonic-theatre experiment that rewards those willing to tune in.


Container is a bold and sonically ambitious piece of experimental theatre. Written and directed by Alan Fielden with musical direction from Tim Cape, the work draws influence from avant-garde pioneers like Laurie Anderson and Robert Ashley. The result is a genre-defying performance that sits somewhere between concert, poetry reading, and theatrical installation.

Performed by Fielden himself alongside co-devisers Ben Kulvichit, Clara Potter-Sweet, Jemima Yong, and Cape, the piece unfolds through a tapestry of overlapping vocal textures, polyphonic sound, and fragmentary narrative. Voices rise, loop, interrupt, and harmonise: spoken text morphs into rhythm and tone, becoming musical material in its own right. The vocal score is dense and intricate, and the ensemble handles it with precision and clarity. The ensemble is strong, forming a tightly interwoven performance from artists clearly attuned to each other’s rhythms.

The power of Container lies in its treatment of language as something fluid and resonant. The most powerful moment for me was the first scene, where words and phrases were dealt with as if motifs in a chamber music piece — a stunning effect that felt like a collective cry at the human experience. The vocal and linguistic experimentation of stories turning into sounds feels fresh and genuinely adventurous. There’s a tactility to the voices, which resonates even when individual lines are hard to follow.

Rather than following a linear plot, Container offers a cascade of stories, characters, and sounds. It doesn’t offer clear answers or political slogans but rather a chorus of voices that collectively assert the dignity, complexity, and humanity of the migrant figure. The presentation of each scene often subverts audience expectations and is mostly structured well to keep the audience energetically curious.

However, the lack of a clear narrative arc or tonal contrast makes it easy to drift—some sections begin to blur, and there’s a sense of the work reaching in too many conceptual directions at once. At times, this is overwhelming beyond what is perhaps necessary, although there is an honesty in that messiness that suits the subject matter.

Ultimately, Container isn’t theatre in a traditional sense—it’s an experience, a composition, a space for listening. It might not land for everyone, and it certainly isn’t tidy. But it opens up new terrain for what performance can be: collective, immersive, and radically attentive. What stays with you aren’t characters or plot, but flickers of overheard lives—voices stretched to their limits, fragments of text charged with memory, and the strange intimacy of being asked to simply listen.