Tag: review

REVIEW: 10 First Dates

Published on by isabellescerriLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

A witty, charming tale of ten dates, and a woman who deserves more

At midday on a sunny Tuesday, Camden’s Etcetera Theatre welcomes a Gooper Dust
Production of 10 First Dates. Starring Laura Shipler Chico as Maggie, the play’s protagonist, and a skilled Mark Parsons as her ten dates, Camden’s Women’s Writers Festival continues to celebrate gifted female writing. Directed by Jamie Saul and written by Christine Rose, the play seeks to offer a comedic insight into the reality of dating again as a middle-aged woman.
After the departure of a 25-year old marriage, Maggie is left newly single and considers
her entrance into the modern world of dating. We meet our protagonist as she scrambles to find the right outfit, on an initially stripped-back set, featuring two stage blocks, a coat hanger and a mirror. Anxious of this dating rebirth, we learn of Maggie’s concerns when adapting to contemporary abbreviations and navigating the swipes of the likes of Tinder and Bumble.
Rose’s writing is witty, sharp and convincing as we learn of the play’s premise. Maggie will encounter ten first dates, lasting no more than an hour, and certainly not exceeding two hours.
Saul’s direction initiates some smooth transitions. The revelation of the washing line of number cards which emerges from the coat hanger is particularly impressive and a sleek transition transports Maggie into her first date. Saul’s direction utilizes spacing and proximity to indicate Maggie’s apprehension.
Our first impression of Parson’s characterisation is excellent. Through costume, posture
and voice, Parson’s skill becomes very apparent. This dynamic between Maggie and Date One, lays the foundation for the headaches of online dating, whilst portraying the homogenous experience of dating men. As we meet the varying dates, Parson’s impersonations maintain strong, depicting rich archetypes and aiding Maggie’s endeavour.
Maggie’s dating experiences vary, from dates which disgust her or violate her to warm
her and enlighten her- Rose makes sure to encompass a range of experiences. The theme of sex and the heavy male attention to it runs throughout. We witness Maggie in uncomfortable positions, yet as the dates progress in their sequence, we see some improvement, represented in the words printed on the mugshots of each date on the photocards of the washing line.
Between the dates, Maggie provides feedback to the audience, commenting upon her
frustrations. These moments had the potential to provide a deep understanding of why Maggie feels she must undertake this journey, yet as the numbers increase, I found a repetitiveness in her observations. This made the performance feel slightly like a countdown, and potentially too linear for what 10 First Dates could push for. If the initial exploration of Maggie’s past was pushed to reveal her inner turmoil, these dates could really strengthen the play’s concluding note of self-acceptance.

Nevertheless, 10 First Dates exemplified some great acting and smooth choreography, whilst providing continuous moments to laugh out loud at. With some small edits and a deep dive into the character’s psyche, 10 First Dates has the potential to be really impactful to an audience and offer a critical perspective on modern-day dating.

REVIEW: Hadestown

Published on by Antonia ConstantinLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A finely balanced ensemble where chemistry, charisma and quiet emotional precision bring new depth to a timeless myth.

As spring settles over the capital, Hadestown returns to the Lyric Theatre with a revitalised cast that breathes fresh urgency into Anaïs Mitchell’s modern myth, reaffirming the show’s place as one of the most emotionally resonant musicals of the past decade.

First conceived as a concept album before evolving into a Tony Award-winning stage production, Mitchell’s Hadestown draws on the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, intertwining it with the fraught relationship between Hades and Persephone. Set to a rich score blending folk, jazz and blues, the musical is as much about storytelling as it is about atmosphere. This is a sung-through meditation on love, labour and the cost of hope in a mechanised world.

At its core, the production lives or dies on chemistry, not just between its lovers, but across its parallel relationships. In this new cast, that balance is not only achieved, but sharpened.

Clive Rowe’s Hermes anchors the show with warmth and mischief. Leaning into the trickster roots of the mythological messenger, Rowe brings a cheekiness that feels instinctive rather than performed. He is playful, knowing, and quietly omniscient, a narrator who sees everything yet is bound to simply guide events rather than alter them. There is a gentle paternal quality to his performance, but it never dulls the character’s edge; instead, it reinforces the bittersweet inevitability that defines the story.

As Orpheus, Marley Fenton proves an inspired piece of casting. His performance captures the character’s essential naivety. He is a young man whose belief in love feels almost embarrassingly sincere, yet never foolish. Fenton charts Orpheus’ transformation with subtle control, allowing the character’s descent into the underworld to register not as a sudden heroic shift, but as an organic evolution. In classical terms, this is a reluctant hero, one shaped not by strength but by devotion, and Fenton makes that journey entirely believable.

Opposite him, Bethany Antonia’s Eurydice is both guarded and deeply affecting. Their relationship feels lived-in from the outset, built on small, recognisable gestures as much as grand declarations. The chemistry between them is undeniable, grounding the more abstract elements of the production in something tangible and human.

Yet it is the central pairing of Hades and Persephone that ultimately dominates the production. Alistair Parker’s Hades is a formidable presence, his baritone voice cutting through the industrial hum of the underworld like a force of nature. There is something distinctly patriarchal in his authority, a pater familias figure presiding over a mechanised empire. Yet Parker allows glimpses of vulnerability to surface. Beneath the rigidity and control, there is a softer core shaped by love, however distorted it may have become.

Rachel Adedeji’s Persephone is a compelling counterbalance. Vocally assured and physically precise, she brings a restless energy to the role, a woman caught between worlds, yearning to restore warmth and connection. Her gestures are finely timed, her presence luminous, and her performance avoids caricature in favour of something more emotionally layered. Together, she and Parker form the show’s most compelling dynamic: a relationship fractured, but not beyond recognition.

The Fates — Melanie Bright, Spike Maxwell and Lauran Rae — inject the production with sharp wit and cohesion, their harmonies weaving tightly through the narrative. They operate as both commentators and instigators, their presence a constant reminder of inevitability. While their interpretation leans into stylisation, there remains an undercurrent of menace that prevents them from tipping fully into parody.

The ensemble and musicians, ever-present within the staging, function as the lifeblood of the production. Their integration into the world of the show reinforces its cyclical nature, a story told and retold, each time with renewed urgency.

What emerges is a production that understands its own mythology. This is not simply a retelling, but a ritual that depends on connection, on rhythm, and on the delicate interplay between its performers. This new cast honours that balance, bringing both clarity and emotional immediacy to Mitchell’s work.

As Hadestown enters another chapter of its West End run, it does so with a renewed sense of purpose, a reminder that some stories endure not because they change, but because each generation finds new ways to believe in them.

REVIEW: The Boy At The Back Of The Class

Published on by Will OsbonLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

An entertaining and educational piece of children’s theatre that struggles to adapt fully to the stage.

The Olivier Award nominated The Boy At The Back Of The Class has taken the festival theatre stage and, in some ways, offers a gentle incline into Imaginate Festival’s presence in Edinburgh. This new play offers a glimpse into the exciting future of children’s theatre. There is a lot to praise, a lot to be excited by, and a lot that in the end falls short. 

There are many qualities of The Boy At The Back Of The Class well worth raising up. Namely, that this is the exact kind of story needing to be told to young and receptive audiences in an era of misinformation. This can be a tired compliment (often only superficially adding to the criticism), but here it is true. Seemingly centralising the story of “Ahmet”, a young boy who joins a London school after fleeing Syria, this play takes on the mammoth task of educating (while entertaining) younger audiences on the current refugee climate. It succeeds, but not without stumbles. 

Firstly, this set design by Lily Arnold is impeccable. Utilising an open space, versatile props, P.E. climbing frames and a cubic neon border, this set is adaptable and transformative; it hasn’t been done this well since The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time. Performances are consistent and necessarily high energy, with a great wealth of comic performances (highlights being Abdul-Malik Janneh as “Michael” and Evie Weldon as “Clarissa”) and heart-felt performances (highlights being leads Serkan Avlik as “Ahmet” and Sasha Desouza-Willock as “Alexa”). Humorous moments and sharp choreography by movement director Kloé Dean, as well as a second half that reads Roald-Dahl-Esque, makes for a swell evening that is educational, visually impressive and entertaining for all ages. 

The Boy At The Back’s biggest downfall, however, is its structural ambition. The play’s second half is engaging and provocative. This is done through impressive commentary on the media and its role in political action (and how kids of all ages can ask the right questions), as well as surprising but poignant descriptions of immigration hurdles. This, combined with accelerating action and a Queen of England Ex Machina, makes for a second half that is equal parts moving and stimulating. Unfortunately, the first half doesn’t succeed in the same ways.

While we are informed that this is Ahmet’s story (including an Act One finale where Ahmet yells “Why doesn’t anyone understand me?” – the audience now understanding Ahmet for the first time), the first act centralises Alexa, who describes Ahmet as “The Boy At The Back Of The Class”. This, plus “lion eyes” descriptions that come off as dated orient-style rhetoric at best, leads the first act into a rambling, action-less nose dive. At times there is room for engaging discussions on the “Stop The Boats” epidemic. However, the script mostly resorts to an ill-fitting Matilda style villain for conflict and an “it’s okay to be different” message in order to cross the finish line, potentially diluting its point and punch.

The first act finale indicates a turning point. Yet, it doesn’t truly deliver on its promise: to tell Ahmet’s story, as opposed to the world around him defining him. What results is an important show, with inspiring political confidence, humour and energy, but one that has to employ less than suitable tactics in order to exist. The audience, filled with all ages that night, leant forward at its heavier sections. Kids are smart, and also evidently more hungry for genuine information than ever. That said, more trust in this adaptation’s core concepts in the future may elevate this play from educational and entertaining to utterly revolutionary.

REVIEW: English National Ballet: Body & Soul

Published on by annieyezhoua29f00172fLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A bold, visually innovative double bill that feels like exactly what contemporary ballet needs right now

At Sadler’s Wells, Body & Soul by English National Ballet brings together two outstanding premieres from Crystal Pite and Kameron N. Saunders, offering a programme that explores how our relationship with others and the world around us.

The first half presents the UK premiere of Body and Soul (Part 1) by Crystal Pite, originally choreographed for the Paris Opera Ballet. The choreography is centred around a French spoken narrative that describes the dancers’ movements in real time. As the narration outlines each action, the dancers respond with a movement vocabulary that is intentionally restrained, relying on repetition and synchronised movement to build tension.

Visually, the work is meticulously composed. Stark lighting creates shifting focal points across the stage, while costumes of trench coats, white singlets and black trousers establish a uniform, almost dystopian aesthetic. The result is highly cinematic, at times resembling a curated sci-fi piece.

The second half introduces the world premiere of Proper Conduct by Kameron N. Saunders, a choreographer known for his work across both commercial and contemporary dance. Drawing on personal experience, Saunders explores the tension between individuality and societal expectation, asking what it means to search for authenticity under constant observation.

The visual design plays a particularly striking role in shaping the atmosphere. The set feels expansive and immersive, transporting the audience into something otherworldly. This is reinforced by the dancers’ astronaut-like costumes, which introduce a sense of detachment and unfamiliarity. The effect is both visually compelling and conceptually aligned with the work’s themes of identity and perception. Combined with the cooler lighting and futuristic aesthetic, the staging creates a distinct shift from the first half, offering a more expansive and visually dynamic environment that lingers long after the performance ends

Body & Soul is not driven by narrative in a traditional sense, but by atmosphere and thematic exploration. It leaves a lasting impression through its visuals, conceptual ambition and the contrast between two distinct choreographic voices.

Credit: Craig Fuller

REVIEW: Education, Education, Education

Published on by bowenreannaLeave a comment

Rating: 2.5 out of 5.

A lively and thought-provoking exploration of education, brought to life through energetic performances and contemporary relevance.

Education, Education, Education, originally written by the The Wardrobe Ensemble and directed by Paul Simpson, is an ambitious and engaging production performed by the Oxford Playhouse Young Company. Staged in the Oxford Playhouse, the piece explores the realities of the British education system through a blend of humour, satire, and political reflection.

The narrative centres on Tobias, played by Josh Prior, a German language assistant who arrives in England inspired by the optimism and cultural identity of “Cool Britannia.” Initially enamoured with the idea of Britain as progressive and vibrant, Tobias gradually encounters a more complex reality. As the play unfolds through scenes structured around a school day, his perspective shifts, revealing classrooms marked by student disengagement, behavioural challenges, and overworked teachers. At the same time, there remains an undercurrent of hope tied to political change, particularly the promise of New Labour.

This interplay between expectation and reality gives the production much of its impact, and its themes feel particularly relevant today. The sense of cautious optimism surrounding political change draws interesting parallels with more recent developments, including the election of Keir Starmer, allowing the audience to reflect on how far, or how little, things have shifted.

The production adopts an episodic structure, moving between a variety of classroom and staffroom moments. While this creates a lively and varied pace, some transitions feel slightly abrupt, which occasionally interrupts the overall flow. Similarly, certain scenes lean into exaggeration, though this often serves to heighten the play’s comedic and satirical elements, even if it sometimes softens the subtlety of its message.

One of the production’s strengths lies in its willingness to engage directly with the audience. Moments of participation, such as Tobias inviting the audience to dance to Saturday Night, add a sense of spontaneity and fun, reinforcing the play’s energetic tone and breaking down the barrier between performer and spectator.

Among the ensemble, Martha Paxton-Doggett stands out as Emily Greenslade. Her performance is particularly nuanced, presenting a student who is intelligent and articulate yet visibly frustrated by the limitations of the system and the assumptions placed upon her. This portrayal adds emotional depth to the production and provides a compelling counterpoint to its more comedic moments.

The use of the stage itself enhances the experience. By performing in an intimate, on-stage setting, the production creates a sense of immediacy and closeness that draws the audience into the world of the play. This staging choice supports both the interactive elements and the more reflective moments.

Overall, Education, Education, Education is a lively and thought-provoking piece that combines humour with meaningful social commentary. While there are moments where the pacing and tone feel slightly uneven, the production’s energy, relevance, and strong performances ensure it remains an engaging and worthwhile theatrical experience.

Education, Education, Education runs from Friday 20th to Saturday 21st March at the Oxford Playhouse, Oxford.

REVIEW: My Mum Told Me Not to Marry an Atheist

Published on by jaketurnerchanLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Amina Aaliya Beg crafts a hilarious and heartfelt show with an intelligent use of tech”

Conceived in 2023 at the Contact theatre in Manchester, since going on to do an Edinburgh fringe run in 2025, Amina Aaliya Beg’s My Mum Told me not to Marry an Atheist recently made its London debut at the Camden People’s Theatre for a work in progress show. At this point in its development, the production has already seen a definite upgrade, and its performance on Thursday showed boundless promise. 

A one woman show starring Aaliya Beg, the show follows a DJ radio host, Didi, as she tries to connect with her daughter Kamal. The setup is already excellent, with a red telephone plugged into her decks, on which she takes calls with her daughter and uses as headphones, an incredibly clever piece of set design. The use of audio was solid here too, rewinding her daughter’s dialogue to show a level of control over their conversations, as well as a moment changing the pitch of her daughter’s voice to reveal it to be very much like her own. This is Didi’s show, and it feels like we are in safe hands. 

The way she manages a room is invigorating to be a part of. Interacting with the crowd, they become her daughter’s atheist boyfriend, making for humorously awkward interactions. It’s a great positioning of the audience, one that Aaliya Beg could afford to be even more demanding with. This is the main point of development I think could be improved—simply taking more time with it, enjoying the command of the room, with stronger projection to make her story clear and the audience feel a little more interrogated. It’d be great to hear more stories from Didi about her own upbringing, as she clearly feels a kinship with her daughter that her daughter seems to not understand. “Does she think I was not young once?” she asks at one point. This feels like a central line to the whole story. 

The show contains a critique of Western understandings of sexuality and importing of homophobia that feels compelling. It is this which drives a wedge between her and her daughter’s relationship. Bringing the scope of such a global critique into the home to show how it directly affects familial relationships grounds it in something personal and relatable. This is the most powerful way of making this kind of critique. 

It is this, as well as its well-crafted humour, which makes Aaliya Beg’s play one worth following. Its narrative is incredibly unique. It is not pandering, and yet feels universally affective, and its ending results in a moment of really organic audience participation that is incredibly difficult to achieve. But Aaliya Beg accomplishes this, and by the end, you can really feel the room of people you’re in. 

‘My Mum Told me Not to Marry an Atheist’ plays again at Camden People’s Theatre on March 24th.

REVIEW: Where There is No Time

Published on by larabainbridgemLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

Where There Is No Time — written, produced by and starring Mohammedally Hashemi — is an ambitious, intermittently arresting debut that wrestles with fashion, faith, and the fight between artistic integrity and commercial popularity. 

It opens with Yusuf quietly sketching into a notebook on the naturalistic set design of his atelier as a low drone hums beneath—a promisingly introspective beginning that the play partly fulfills. From there, we learn Yusuf is preparing a new collection for his next show. He’s torn between the advice offered by an old friend, model and muse, Nina, and financial backer and new business partner, Suzann. Does he stick true to his Yemeni-Iranian roots? Or dilute to grow a bigger market?

At its strongest, the play thrives in its character work. Suzann (Milly Zero) is delightfully horrid — a masterclass in false empathy and corporate schmoozing, punctuated by a nervous stroke of the ponytail or tug of the Prada jumper. Opposite her, Nina’s (Kerena Jagpal) integrity and emotional clarity provide a compelling counterweight. The tension between the two women — both operating within the same fashion world but with radically different values — is genuinely palpable and sometimes electric. Yussuf (Mohammedally Hashemi) is most convincing when depicting intense internal struggle, caught between the two women and all they represent. 

Thematically, the play promises much. It probes fashion as both art and commodity. Moments of writerly flair from Hashemi really come to the fore as he dreamily reflects upon his mixed heritage, seeing Yemen as his mother and Iran as his father, and Zanzibar, the “spice island”. Suzann, all sleek, empty commercialism, flattens these beautiful memories into a “Zanzibar aesthetic”, with pithy one-liners such as “Keep it spicy… but tasty”. This bites to the core of a topical issue, as the arts today are increasingly drained of all revolutionary and political power through creeping corporatisation that makes everything “accessible” at the expense of soul. This cultural comment culminates in the symbolic Dress of Faith, a stunning navy and gold garment, supposedly hand-stitched and lovingly made by his mother. The cultural and emotional history of this dress could certainly have been expanded upon, however.

Some sequences from director Hamza Ali are evocative. Drums underscore Yusuf’s restless movement and signify time passing as he ponders the Dress of Faith. In contrast, a later moment — set to delicate strings — achieves real emotional resonance as Yusuf lifts the dress sleeves as if dancing with his mother, then wraps himself in them and weeps. It’s the play’s most affecting image, capturing the competing pulls between loss and remembrance, style and substance. When the production dips its toe into stylisation, however, it is not always successful. Abrupt scene changes flare up with techno music as characters strut on like catwalk models, only to resume dialogue after jarringly small time-jumps. 

The increasing time pressure before the debut show also never quite lands, and character relationships feel over-expositioned yet underdeveloped. The climactic confrontation between Nina and Suzann the night before the show veers into melodrama, and a sudden aggressive outburst from Yusuf jars just as much as it shocks. 

Still, its central debate — between cultural authenticity and commercial viability, art and money — is an urgent one, as yet underexplored on stage. Where There Is No Time is not without its flaws, but undeniably thought-provoking.

REVIEW: MEDEA

Published on by Ross BevanLeave a comment

Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

Harrowing and tragic, Medea defines brutality in a performance that will leave you speechless

This classic Greek tale, as with many, has a variety of versions and rewrites though perhaps none quite as harrowing as this retelling by Kathy McKean. Based on the original work by Euripdes, McKean’s work delves into the levels of deep intensity within these character’s emotions, accentuated by the talents of theatre company Raw Material. Touring this production in association with Bard In The Botanics, this performance at The Beacon Theatre was an impressive yet brutal watch.

As a Greek tragedy, it goes without saying that Medea will not be the easiest watch for some to digest but despite its harsh, and at times horrific subject matter, the compelling nature of the play makes it fly in for those with a stomach for darker themes. The intense atmosphere of this performance was felt by all as Medea spirals while the life she knows crumbles around her. Her paramour Jason, as in the Jason who sailed on the Argo and claimed the Golden Fleece, abandons her to marry the King of Corinth’s daughter. After going into a rage and threatening Jason and his new wife, King Creon exiles her and she is forced to flee with her children. However, she appeals to Creon who grants her one day before she must leave Corinth. This gives her enough time to plan her revenge. 

She plans to take everything away from Jason. Luring him to their former home, she convinces him that he should take the boys so that they can have a better life. She says she will send gifts with them, in order to appease his new bride and wipe any previous slights from her mind. The gifts in question however have quite sinister properties. A cloak and crown made by her grandfather, these items were only supposed to be worn by those of her bloodline. As a descendant of the sun god Helios, Medea would not be harmed but when the princess dons them, her body begins to melt away, killing her and Creon as he attempts to aid her as she dissolves into nothingness. Medea is not through with her vengeance though. To rob him of his legacy, Medea murders her own children. Jason arrives to get them to safety so they will not be harmed for the deaths of the king and his daughter but he is too late. After seeing him broken, defeated and helpless, Medea vanishes, leaving devastation in her wake.

The end result is shocking, no doubt but what makes it even more crushing is the way her relationship to her children is handled throughout the play as well as her psyche in general. She slips further and further away from reason as the story progresses, her emotions ranging from rage at Jason’s treatment of her to pain over the loss of him. We see her feel a sense of isolation as she reckons with the prospect of having to leave this home she built with her family, with no idea where to go and almost no friends to turn to, save the Nurse. Jealousy and envy are apparent as she faces the fact this princess has stolen her life and though originally, she does not believe her to be at fault, we begin to see her turn and head down a dark, treacherous path of revenge. In all of this, she still loves her children but it is stated by the Nurse from the very beginning that she can barely look at them as she sees too much of their father in them. Ultimately, this is foreshadowing of what is to come but her decisions are never framed in a way that make us believe she doesn’t love her children. Even in the moments before her final crime, she talks about running and taking the boys with her. In the end though, she realises it is too late. Whether that be because she knows they will be killed for the deaths of the royal family or because she’s determined to take everything away from Jason at any cost is truly hard to say. Each reason has merit and it could be that either or both are true. In the end though, there is a sickening satisfaction in Medea’s reaction to Jason’s despair that shows us she got what wanted, no matter the cost. The way Nicole Cooper displays the complexity of Medea’s nature and emotions is in a class of its own

Some would look at aspects of her behaviour and defend Medea. While there is justification for her outrage at the circumstances she finds herself in, any notions of her being on the side of righteousness dies with her children. The moment we see her walk back onstage with the blood-soaked knife she used to slit their throats, there’s no amount of grace we can give the character. Which is fine because this is not a heroic story. Yes, we see that without her, Jason would not have succeeded in his famous quests and that she should have got the recognition she deserves but Medea makes it clear to Jason and the audience that he always knew what she was. There are no heroes in this story. Only flawed, broken individuals. It’s what makes it so compelling. Which isn’t to say they don’t make us feel. Isabelle Joss’ screams as the Nurse discovers the bodies make us feel that brutality. Johnny Panchaud beautifully displayed Jason’s heartache as we see him crumpled in a pile on the floor, howling. Alan Steele’s haunted memory of watching the royals melt away was one of the finest moments. We see how he was almost transfixed by it, mesmerised by the horror.

The only true issue with the performance was lack of appropriate accents. While there are moments where Greek is spoken (and in those moments we do hear tonal differences), they are few and far between and the Scottish and English voices were initially jarring to tell the truth. Perhaps if there had been prior warning, it might not have been as much of a problem and ultimately, it doesn’t affect the acting in acting in any way but there are definite hints of a different accent in the few moments that Greek is spoken which does beg the question, why not just make the choice to do that the whole time? It is however a relatively minor thing and doesn’t ruin the performance as a whole.

Overall, Medea was raw and intense. The acting on display was superb and the company did a splendid job with some very complicated material. This is definitely worth a watch for those who enjoy looking at the old myths through a more emotional lens.

This tour’s next stop is the Tron Theatre in Glasgow from Wednesday 25th– Saturday 28th March and closes in Eden Court Theatre in Inverness on Saturday 11th April.

REVIEW: Ruth The Musical

Published on by fbalchin1 Comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

“A lively but safe attempt to break a tragic story out of its historical restraints”

Renowned legal firm Mishcon de Reya have recently applied for the King’s pardon against hanged murderess Ruth Ellis. Timely fitting then, that a new musical about the events leading up to her death have been staged at the magnificent Wilton’s Music Hall. Ellis was the last woman hanged in England, having shot her lover David Blakely after untold amounts of abuse at the hands of almost every man she encountered. 

The conceit is that there are two main Ruths. Cell Ruth and Past Ruth (played by Bibi Simpson and Hannah Traylen respectively). Unfortunately Cell Ruth spends her time exclusively upstage right in her cell, moodily pouting and reminiscing to her hangman Albert Pierrepoint (played by Ian Puleston-Davies), or otherwise sat on a chair in darkness. The rest of the plot is given to Past Ruth during her time running a Knightsbridge nightclub. It is in this establishment she meets her ill-fated lover and abuser David Blakely (played by Connor Payne) and the man who genuinely appears to care for her- Desmond Cussen (played by John Faal). Historical facts and event sequencing are loosely followed thereafter.

Is this story elevated by being a musical? The jazz music is excellent at providing world-building and tone; however the adjoining lyrics were simple, pedestrian and often cringe-worthy. The songs felt genuinely superfluous in what could be a slick little play with an exceptional jazz noir soundtrack- amplified by saxophonist Mel Henry. Both Ruths play their simplistic versions of her brilliantly-. Simpson’s prisoner is explored as a compulsive liar, the use of dramatic irony deployed to demonstrate she is perhaps creating a version of herself she wishes she were but that the audience knows never was. Traylen’s version, a vampy songstress looked and sounded believable as an ill-treated vintage vixen reminiscent of Chicago’s Roxie Hart. 

Ellis’s fate was sealed when she pulled the trigger on her lover Blakely. What should have been the crux of the argument in a gripping courtroom scene- her defense of a prolonged victim of domestic abuse- was barely touched upon, nor was her quite frankly harrowing life. Physically and sexually abused by her father, her life remained marred in tragedy with abortions, spousal abuse and miscarriage. The play never really explores her psychological trauma, and instead paints her as a victim of fate with no agency, instead another example of the “hooker with a heart of gold” trope. Maybe she was also an awful person? There are plenty of women in absolutely dire situations who never go on to kill people. 

This show, with its excellent actors and musicians, offers a predictable representation of a woman abused at every turn, presenting her as a victim of circumstance but digging no deeper into the meat of the question at hand- why did Ruth Ellis kill the man she claimed to love? 

Ruth: The Musical is on at Wilton’s Music Hall until 28th March 2026.

REVIEW: Unlikely: In a building with a broken lift

Published on by jaketurnerchanLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

An absurdly stunning piece of physical comedy

This week, the DippyEgg Theatre company makes its debut with their show Unlikely: In a Building with a Broken Lift, starring their two co-founders, Emma Wallace and Lucy Mynard. 

Downstairs at the Baron’s Court Theatre lies this grisly comedy about two roommates, their cat, and a storm. Unlikely notably lacks much dialogue from the two main characters, resulting in a piece full of physical comedy that reminisces of Charlie Chaplain in its goofiness and exaggerated approach. On the whole, this is done very successfully. Upon realising there was not going to be much dialogue, I worried how easy following the narrative would be. The logic of the narrative does occasionally suffer, but it is clear that logic is not really the point of this play. It exists as a series of jaded vignettes depicting an array of modern characters and an observation of our media consumption. The result is an overall expression of the founders of DippyEgg Theatre and makes for some promising material. 

Unlikely has the structure of a cabaret, with a variety of different styles of performance, including live singing, mime, and drag-esque acts. One of the highlights of the show came with Emma Wallace’s excellent lip sync to Queen’s 1984 classic ‘I want to break free’. It began with some excellent mime work, and Wallace proceeded to hit every beat of the song, embodying it fully, making excellent use of the space. This performance well reflected the overall tightness of the show, which much of its physical comedy really depends on. Wallace and Mynard are clearly professionals, even if their show is injected full of slapstick silliness and good humour. 

The narration in a dracula style voice was a fun touch, although sometimes the sound could do with a little less reverb, particularly in that space particularly prone to strong echoes. It was sometimes hard to understand what was being said, and some more clarity here would have helped with the narrative. There’s a great moment where they go backstage to berate him, a clever way to submerge us further in this play within a play. I would be interested to see what this narrator could be like if he was played by an onstage actor, perhaps engaged with the audience. 

The space itself is naturally quite gothic, with thick pillars and black walls, so the set was already prompted for this atmosphere. Some details were nice, like the use of chalk on the walls to create a noir aesthetic, and there is a hilarious moment with Mynard and the drawn on window. Some of the set felt a little inconsistent, and maybe a little heavy handed with its theme. Particularly the contemporary sofa and the use of fake body parts on stage. It made the design a little jagged, and even just throwing on a fitting blanket or dust sheet over the sofa would have helped tie things together some more. 

Overall, this is a great first outing for the company. It displays some real originality and strangeness that will hopefully come to brand them and their future productions. Watching the minds Wallace and Mynard play out on stage was a tickling experience, full of promise with what’s to come next. 

Unlikely: In a Building with a Broken Lift plays at the Baron’s Court Theatre until March 21st.