Tag: manchester

REVIEW: Ghost Stories

Published on by justinemsjonesLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

Prepare to be thrilled in this atmospheric masterpiece

Ghost Stories is a thrilling and chilling theatrical experience from the minds of Jeremy Dyson, and Andy Nyman, co-creator of Derren Brown’s television and stage shows. Debuting in Liverpool 15 years ago, the production has returned to bewitch the curious once more.

From the moment the audience steps into the theatre, they are transported into Dyson and Nyman’s unsettling world. Flickering lights and an eerie soundscape set an immediate sense of unease, while murmurs of anticipation ripple through the crowd. Have you seen this before? Are you going to scream? The excitement is palpable.

Professor Goodman, our enigmatic narrator, takes the stage to present his mission—debunking the supernatural. Ghosts and ghouls surely can’t be real… or can they? Through a series of investigations, he unravels eerie encounters: the chilling misfortune of a night watchman, the harrowing ordeal of a teenage boy, and the nerve-shredding chaos of a businessman awaiting the birth of his first child. With a wonderful blend of thrill and clever techniques, the audience is left spellbound throughout.

Dan Tetsell leads the cast as Professor Goodman, channeling echoes of Rod Serling from The Twilight Zone as he captivates and unnerves in equal measure. Alongside him, David Cardy, Eddie Loodmer-Elliot, and Clive Mantle deliver superb performances, each heightening the show’s sense of dread.

Seamless set transitions propel the narrative forward, while clever illusions, lighting tricks, and meticulously designed soundscapes build tension to an almost unbearable level. The immersive details are excellent – from dimming emergency exit signs to disorienting flashes of light that force the audience to shield their eyes. For the keen-eyed observer, even Professor Goodman’s costume holds subtle, unnerving clues.

That said, some of the stories could have been further explored. Certain plot points felt tantalizingly incomplete, leaving lingering questions about unseen characters and unresolved mysteries. However, this may well be a testament to Dyson and Nyman’s skill—keeping the audience wanting more.

As tradition dictates, Ghost Stories asks its audience to “keep the secrets” So, to answer those earlier whispered questions—yes, there were plenty of screams. And yes, many walked out declaring, I need to see that again. If you dare, catch Ghost Stories at The Lowry until Saturday, March 1st, before it continues its haunting tour across the UK.

REVIEW:The Merchant of Venice (1936) 

Published on by Maria Mădălina Ifrim2 Comments

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

A Hauntingly Relevant Reinterpretation

Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice has long been one of his most problematic plays, and this 1936 reimagining, set in East London amid the rise of Oswald Mosley’s Blackshirts, does little to soften its edges. Instead, it sharpens them, drawing stark parallels between the play’s themes and the historical context of 1930s Britain. The result is an intensely atmospheric production, brimming with socialites, cocaine, and, unexpectedly, subtle gay undertones.

Antonio, here reinterpreted as a Blackshirt and a godfather-like figure, becomes an emblem of rising fascist power. Meanwhile, Portia is transformed into a glamorous socialite, moving through the play’s events with privilege and poise. Most strikingly, Shylock is no longer the traditional elderly merchant but a formidable matriarch and single mother. Tracy-Ann Oberman’s performance in this role is nothing short of a tour de force. She plays Shylock with a righteous anger and an inner strength that is deeply moving. Her demand for flesh is not just an act of vengeance but a furious response to Mosley’s campaign of antisemitic persecution—a mother’s desperate attempt to defend herself and her child against the tides of history conspiring to render them powerless.

One of the most impactful aspects of this adaptation is how it internalizes antisemitic sentiment rather than presenting it as an external, one-dimensional force. The play opens with chilling projections and actual recordings of Oswald Mosley’s speeches, setting a tone that is both immersive and unsettling. The ending is cyclical, leaving the audience with a sense of unresolved pain, reinforcing the play’s tragic undertones. While at times the messaging feels heavy-handed, it remains powerful and effective, especially in today’s climate, where antisemitic attacks in the UK have reached their highest levels in decades.

The language of Shakespeare is made strikingly modern, with a delivery that feels natural and accessible. The production is also deeply musical, enhancing the drama’s emotional impact. One of the most impressive moments comes early on, with Oberman’s impassioned speech about being the same as those who scorn her—a scene that is particularly poignant given the world’s current socio-political climate.

Visually, the production dazzles while staying true to its deeper themes. The opulence of high society is offset by the looming specter of fascism, underscoring the play’s central message that “all that glitters is not gold.” Even seemingly minor reinterpretations carry profound significance—Shylock’s infamous moment of crying after the stolen jewels is no longer about material wealth but about mourning lost heritage and origins.

While the play’s notoriously contrived ending remains unchanged, here it feels even more tragic. The weight of history bears down on the characters, making the resolution not just unsatisfying but deeply haunting. This “Merchant of Venice” does not seek to make Shakespeare’s text more palatable—it amplifies its darkness, forcing the audience to reckon with the tragedy of powerlessness in a world increasingly hostile to the marginalized.

This production is a visually and emotionally striking reimagining that lingers in the mind long after the final bow. It is a reminder that history repeats itself and that Shakespeare’s work remains, for better or worse, disturbingly relevant.

REVIEW: Picture at an Exhibition

Published on by Maria Mădălina IfrimLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

“Fairytale and darkness, all in one celebratory night for Ravel and Boulez”

The night started on a high note with Pierre Boulez’s Notations 1–4 (orchestral version), a piece that showcased a rich accretion of orchestral detail. Notation 1 felt childlike and whimsical, its complexity manifesting through an intricate interplay of sounds. Notation 4 was a cacophony of accelerating, repeated six-note motifs, creating an electrifying tension. Suspense and rhythmic precision shone through in Notation 3, with the percussion adding a martial character. Meanwhile, Notation 2 made its mark with a sharp, mechanical opening that developed into something almost hypnotic. Boulez’s mastery of texture and orchestration was evident, setting an engaging and challenging tone for the evening.

Maurice Ravel’s Mother Goose ballet transported the audience to a world of childhood wonder, its bedtime story-like quality beautifully rendered by the orchestra. The delicate spinning wheel introduced us to the fairy-tale world, followed by the serene Pavane of the Sleeping Beauty. Tom Thumb conveyed curiosity and whimsy, with bird-like sounds fluttering through the hall before sharply transitioning into the exotic textures of Little Ugly, Empress of the Pagodas. The Conversation between Beauty and the Beast carried a heavy, foreboding presence, adding depth before the ethereal conclusion of The Fairy Garden. The celesta’s delicate tones added a layer of enchantment, making for a truly immersive experience.

The highlight of the evening was Maurice Ravel’s Piano Concerto for the Left Hand, performed by Bertrand Chamayou. A masterclass in precision and technique, Chamayou delivered an astonishing performance, demonstrating the sheer depth of sound and color achievable with just one hand. The concerto’s dark premise was mirrored in its brooding orchestration, mechanical echoes, and sudden shifts in mood, making for an intense yet captivating listening experience.

The concert concluded with Modest Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition, orchestrated by Ravel. This final piece was grand and regal, infused with emotion and dynamic contrasts. It traversed through somber, solemn passages before culminating in a triumphal and resounding conclusion. The orchestra brought the work vividly to life, embracing its multiple tonal shifts with impeccable precision and energy.

Under the baton of Ludovic Morlot, the orchestra delivered a truly outstanding performance, bringing out the full brilliance of each piece. The evening was a remarkable journey through orchestral textures and emotions, leaving a lasting impression on all in attendance.

REVIEW: Figures In Extinction

Published on by Lucy CLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A Haunting and Mesmerising Call to Action

I’ll be honest, I didn’t know much about Crystal Pite or Simon McBurney before this, but Figures in Extinction at Aviva Studios performed by Nederlands Dans Theater was something else. It wasn’t just a dance show—it was an experience, the kind that settles in your chest and stays with you long after you’ve left. Thought-provoking, unsettling, and at times, really quite moving.

Right from the start, it had this relentless feel to it. There’s a voice listing species that no longer exist, and as each name is spoken, the dancers move like those creatures—fluttering, stumbling, collapsing. It was both mesmerising and deeply sad, like watching something fade right in front of you. The set made it even worse in the best way, gradually closing in, making you feel that same sense of suffocation and loss. The lighting added to the effect too, with flickering shadows stretching across the stage like ghosts of what’s been lost.

There was this one bit with a climate change denier—smug, dismissive, saying all the usual rubbish about personal responsibility and economic priorities. The way the dancer moved—sharp, jerky, unnatural—mirrored the slick, calculated way these people dodge the truth. It was infuriating to watch, but also really clever in how it showed the contrast between wilful ignorance and the sheer devastation being played out on stage. It built up to this moment where the names of extinct species started coming faster and faster, blending together into this overwhelming rush. The dancers, who had been embodying different creatures, started merging into one tangled, writhing mass, a proper gut-punch of a visual that hammered home how everything—nature, people, entire ecosystems—is connected. Then, silence. And that silence hit just as hard.

The second part shifted focus from nature to people, looking at human relationships, disconnection, and the way we exist in this overwhelming digital world. It played with contrast—moments of rigid control against raw, chaotic movement, showing how people struggle between logic and emotion, isolation and intimacy. Some bits were painfully relatable—dancers reaching for each other, almost touching, then being pulled apart again. A duet in particular stood out, capturing that desperation of wanting to connect but feeling like something invisible is always in the way. The use of cameras and projections was really effective, giving multiple perspectives at once, sometimes zooming right in on tiny, fleeting expressions. It made you feel both close and distant at the same time, like watching life through a screen—always observing, never quite present.

The final part felt like a shift towards something softer, almost hopeful, without ever tipping into easy optimism. There’s this scene with a hospital bed, a family grieving, and this feeling of both finality and possibility—an ending, but maybe also a beginning. The movement here was different—less tormented, more fluid, like the dancers were trying to imagine something new, something better. The visuals reflected that, with projections that changed from barren landscapes to ones full of life, hinting that maybe, just maybe, there’s still a way forward.

The whole thing was incredibly well done—powerful movement, striking visuals, and a proper diverse cast that brought so much depth to every part of it. The audience clearly felt it too, because the standing ovation went on forever. It’s rare to see something that makes you feel so much all at once—grief, awe, frustration, and a strange kind of hope—but Figures in Extinction did exactly that.

REVIEW: One Punch

Published on by Lucy CLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A Raw, Honest Night Out on Stage

I went to see One Punch expecting a story that would really hit home, and it certainly did. The play is only an hour long, but it tells the tale of a night out gone wrong—a night that changes everything. Even though the performance is short, it left a strong impression on me because it is based on real events, which makes it all the more meaningful.

What really stood out was the way the three actors – Ellis Basford, Camille Hainsworth-Staples, and George Reid – handled their roles. They were on stage for the entire show, taking on every character: the victim Rhys, his family and friends, and even Connor, the person who threw the punch. Every time they switched roles, it was as simple as a change in voice or body language, and suddenly you’re seeing someone completely different. They managed to do all of this without major costume changes or elaborate set pieces. In fact, there were only a few small props used, like a hat for Connor, which helped give a clear signal about who he was at that moment. It was a small detail, but it added a nice touch to the storytelling.

The writing, from Jane Thornton and Martha Godber, felt very natural and down-to-earth. The dialogue captured the everyday language you might hear on a night out, which made the story feel relatable and real. I did notice that the word “alright” was repeated quite a bit. While I understand it was meant to keep the language casual and genuine, it did become a little noticeable at times. Still, the overall flow of the dialogue helped maintain a realistic tone throughout the performance.

What I appreciated most was that the play didn’t try to simplify the situation into just good versus bad. It wasn’t solely about the victim or the attacker; it was about how one single moment can change the lives of everyone involved. The story reminds you that things can spiral out of control in an instant, and that one decision can have a lasting impact. This isn’t your typical drama with clear-cut heroes or villains; it shows people dealing with the consequences of their actions, and it makes you think about how quickly situations can turn sour.

The performance was impressive not only because of the acting but also because of how the stage was used. Even with a very simple set, the actors were able to create different moods and settings through their movement and dialogue. The few props that were used, such as the hat for Connor, played their part perfectly in anchoring the characters and adding visual cues that helped the audience keep track of who was who. This approach kept the focus squarely on the story and the performances, and I found that refreshing.

I left the theatre with a lot to think about. The play does a good job of showing that a single night out can have far-reaching consequences. It’s a reminder that life can change in an instant, and that sometimes there aren’t easy answers when things go wrong. Even though I wished the play could have explored some parts a bit further, the tight, hour-long format meant that every scene had a purpose without any unnecessary filler.

Overall, One Punch is a memorable show that makes you pause and reflect. The strong acting, clever use of a few small props and entire space of the stage, and the honest, relatable writing all contribute to an experience that feels genuine and pained. I would definitely recommend it to anyone looking for a piece of theatre that doesn’t shy away from the hard truths of real life, where the focus is on the message rather than the production.

REVIEW: Escaped Alone/What If If Only

Published on by rosagatleyLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

A pertinent Caryl Churchill double bill struggles to truly take off.  

Caryl Churchill has been a playwright of our times for as long as she has been writing, consistently holding up a mirror to society in mesmerising and often terrifying ways. ‘Escaped Alone’ and ‘What If If Only’, double billed by the Royal Exchange Theatre and directed by Sarah Frankcom are  certainly no exception — in the programme notes, Maureen Beattie who plays Mrs Jarrett in  ‘Escaped Alone’ aptly puts it that Churchill “looks the beast in the eye” with her writing, refusing to  turn away from the horrors that continue to plague the world. But despite this, Frankcom’s  production lacked the sucker punch the writing promises, stunting a piece that could otherwise soar.  

The production is paired back and concise, running at only fifty five minutes for ‘Escaped Alone’  and just shy of half an hour for ‘What If If Only’. Rose Revitt’s deft design follows suit, with the  former play featuring just four chairs on a small strip of astroturf, which later lifts up to reveal the cluttered apartment setting for ‘What If If Only’. Both pieces simmer with tension and atmosphere,  despite their short runtime. ‘Escaped Alone’ contrasts a meandering conversation between four  women in their 70s with horrific visions of an apocalyptic present that seems to hover in the  background, scored menacingly by Nicola T. Chang. ‘What If If Only’ features Someone (Danielle  Henry) in the wake of the death of her partner, conjuring what could have happened differently and  what might still happen in the future. Both are incredibly pertinent plays, but I didn’t walk away  feeling particularly affected.  

Ultimately, I felt that the production failed to really reach out. Something that makes Churchill’s  writing so extraordinary is her ability to convey intricate messages via much wider, seemingly unrelated metaphors, like the hat making in ‘Far Away’. She is in equal measures sardonic and  earnest. But something about this production felt exclusive and closed off, like it was catering to “theatre people” or those who really “get” Caryl Churchill’s work. The blocking for ‘Escaped  Alone’ especially was incredibly insular, mostly just four women sat in lawn chairs who occasionally and pointedly switched positions every so often so that the audience could get a look at  everyone’s faces equally in the round. It rippled with tension, largely due to stellar acting from  Annette Badland as Vi/Future and Maureen Beattie as Mrs Jarrett especially, but it all felt behind  some sort of intellectual veil. If you get it, you get it, if you don’t, you don’t. There was bizarrely  raucous laughter from the audience at random points as if to prove this. ‘What If If Only’ handled this marginally better, with a more graspable concept. The edition of the Royal Exchange’s own elders company as possible futures waiting to happen was particularly effective.  

Ultimately, Churchill’s writing still shines, punctuated with fantastic performances. But if the point of the production is to speak to the times we live in now, it would have been more effective to invite the whole audience along with it. 

REVIEW: A Divine Comedy

Published on by Lucy CLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A Brilliantly Chaotic Celebration of Queer Identity

There’s something special about a show that doesn’t just tell a story but invites you in, makes you feel part of something. A Divine Comedy, performed by Sam Buttery alongside two other fantastic actors, is exactly that—a funny, chaotic, and deeply personal tribute to Harris Glenn Milstead, better known as Divine. It’s a mix of biopic and autofiction, blending truth with performance, and it thrives in that space between reality and storytelling. This isn’t a neatly polished West End production, and that’s precisely why it works. It’s messy, loud, and full of heart—just like Divine.

With only three performers, the show feels intimate in a way bigger productions often don’t. Buttery is brilliant, carrying the piece with a mix of charm, mischief, and vulnerability, but the other two cast members bring just as much to the table. Their comedic timing is razor-sharp, and the chemistry between them all makes every scene feel alive. The fact that this is a work-in-progress performance only adds to the fun—when things don’t go quite to plan, the cast leans into it, making those moments even funnier. Whether it’s a slight stumble over words or a moment of unexpected laughter, they embrace it, and it just makes the characters feel even more real and enjoyable.

Comedy is at the heart of the show, but underneath all the laughs, there’s something deeper. The music, the storytelling, the personal moments—it’s all about self-acceptance, about being as honest with yourself as you dare to be. There’s strong trans representation both in the cast and in the stories being told, and that feels important. A Divine Comedy isn’t just about Divine as an individual; it’s about what he represents—fearless self-expression, pushing boundaries, and making space for the next generation of queer artists.

What really stood out was the feeling that this performance was unique. The work-in-progress nature of the show only added to that—it wasn’t overly rehearsed or predictable, which made it even more engaging. It felt like a conversation rather than a scripted performance, and that kind of authenticity is rare.

Ultimately, A Divine Comedy is a celebration—of Divine, of queer resilience, of storytelling itself. It’s loud, ridiculous, and packed with personality, proving that the best theatre isn’t always the most polished—it’s the stuff that makes you feel something.

REVIEW: Unhinged

Published on by jaketurnerchanLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

Stefanie Reynolds creates a chemistry between herself and the audience that makes for a rewarding theatre experience.


There is no doubt somewhat of a saturation of shows following the lives of aimless young adults. It’s a mode we return to as audiences and creatives not necessarily for its originality, but for its ability to make our common yet isolating experiences feel seen. Off of the successes of brilliant singular narrative shows like Michaela Coel’s Chewing Gum and Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag, this particular genre has been persistently replicated in popular media, sometimes to a point of exhaustion. At their worst, these stories can feel self-indulgent, uninteresting, and unproductive. At their best, they may look something like Stefanie Reynolds’ Unhinged. 

Hazel Williams is a struggling 29 year old with a crumbling council flat in her absent brother’s name, an admin job at an unstable charity, and friends around her whose lives seem to be progressing ahead of her at an unattainable rate. This setup is recognisable, humanising, and creates a base for the play’s humour. Reynolds, a comedy writer, absolutely succeeds at this, and creates an exceptional chemistry between Hazel and the audience. She makes regular eye contact, occasionally directly eliciting responses from the audience, whose laughter persisted throughout the show. The room was undeniably hers, and this did not feel like an intimidating experience, but rather very much a communal one. The plight of many single-narrative shows is their restraint in their sole perspective, sometimes leading to a sense of unaccounted selfishness, or even narcissism.

In Unhinged, despite Hazel displaying some traits of that nature, the world around her is drawn in, implicating her in a much wider narrative. This is what Unhinged does so brilliantly—it looks precisely to scrutinise how we construct narratives ourselves. One of the most compelling points in the show takes place during a phone call, where we see a shift in Hazel’s behaviour, showing that there exists a very different side to her than the quippy, inviting character who interacts with the audience onstage. The show never gets trapped in its own narrative, instead constantly seeking to expand its catch. It reaches out across characters, distinguished so humorously by Reynolds, bringing in a whole community of people who are implicated in the wider narrative. A portrait is painted of Manchester that encompasses class, race, queerness, and gender. The depiction of black masculinity was particularly moving and prudent, accompanied by some excellent lighting choices. Throughout, Reynolds subverts our expectations, creating a story packed full of characters that are just as complex as the city they inhabit. 

Props must also be given to director Erinn Dhesi— It is clear that the pair make an excellent team. The show worked with a sparse array of props and set, relying mostly on a fold up chair and table, still managing to conjure up a rich, entertaining story. This, paired with the precision and directness in Reynold’s performance, made for an rewarding show that was accessible and accommodating for its audience. For every part Hazel Williams let us into her life, there was a sense of letting a bit of her into ours.

REVIEW: Bad Science

Published on by Maria Mădălina IfrimLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Chaotic improvisation meets real-life problems

Bad Science is an ambitious and chaotic satire that takes a sharp jab at the political class’s increasing influence over the health system. After we passed multiple health crises and arguably, a mental health one, some will wonder what are the machinations behind such a government. Presented as a work-in-progress piece, the show attempts to blend political commentary, dark comedy, and audience interaction into a fast-paced, unpredictable experience.

The premise is undeniably intriguing—three politicians, all with backgrounds in finance rather than public health, are suddenly tasked with managing a group of protesters outside 10 Downing Street. From this seemingly absurd scenario, the play unfolds into a series of escalating events where moral panic, media spin, and political incompetence take centre stage. The politicians scramble to control the narrative and appease the public (even in a press conference), all while failing to address the real issues at hand. It’s a timely concept with the potential for biting satire and absurd humour.

The show excels in its quick-witted dialogue, strong comedic timing, and clever references to real-world politics. The humour is undeniably topical, drawing from contemporary issues in a way that resonates with the audience. One of the standout aspects of the performance was the improvised elements, which added spontaneity and kept the energy high. The actors were skilled in thinking on their feet, and this unpredictability was one of the production’s greatest strengths. Audience participation added an extra layer of fun, though some moments felt slightly predictable. Who wouldn’t wanta politician ton avoid responding to the question of how much a pint of milk is?

While the show delivered plenty of laughs, the overall premise had some structural weaknesses. The initial setup was hard to buy into, which made it difficult to fully invest in the unfolding chaos. I like to believe that the appointments of the ministers are a bit more complicated than a phone call. Because of this, the conclusion didn’t feel as satisfying or well-earned as it could have been. The play thrived in its moments of improvisation and sharp satire, but at times, it felt like it lacked a clear narrative direction. However, given that this is a work-in-progress, there’s plenty of room for refinement, and it will be exciting to see how the production evolves.

Despite its flaws, Bad Science is a hugely entertaining and lively piece of theatre that showcases the talents of its cast and creative team. It offers a fun and thought-provoking night out, blending political satire with comedy in a way that keeps the audience engaged. I’m looking forward to seeing what Switch_MCR brings to the stage next.

REVIEW: What is Love to a Goddess

Published on by justinemsjonesLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

‘Love, power, and vengeance’

What is Love to a Goddess? is a work in progress solo-show based on the Greek mythical story of Medea and Jason performed and written by Maz Hedgehog. Presented as part of PUSH Festival at HOME MCR – a celebration of creative talent across the North West – the performance explores themes of love, power, and vengeance.

Medea (Hedgehog) leads the audience through a narrative steeped in obsession and betrayal, as she falls for Jason when he arrives in Colchis seeking the Golden Fleece. Her love quickly turns destructive, as she murders her own brother to secure Jason’s success, leading to marriage and a new life in Corinth.

The show’s strongest moments lie in its portrayal of Medea’s conflicting emotions on motherhood, as she tends to a crying baby while reflecting on her choices. The narrative builds towards the revelation that she has killed multiple children she has birthed, yet she remains devoted to Jason. When he dismisses their marriage as illegitimate and pursues a new wife, Medea’s response is predictably violent. The final act, set decades later, provides some introspection but feels abrupt, leaving more to be explored in terms of emotional depth and nuance.

Hedgehog’s performance has moments of strength, particularly in their ability to hold the audience’s attention, but at times the delivery feels uneven. The script, while ambitious, could benefit from tighter pacing and deeper exploration of Medea’s motivations beyond anger and vengeance. Though the production effectively modernizes the myth, some of its emotional beats feel underdeveloped, making it difficult to fully engage with Medea’s transformation over time.

As a work-in-progress, What is Love to a Goddess? has a lot of promise. This is a good attempt at bringing this story to life. Hedgehog’s creative vision is evident, though further polish will be necessary to elevate this work to its full potential. I look forward to seeing them flourish in their career.