‘The Same Only Different’ is a show you won’t forget in a hurry. Performed by Kenny Sinclair, who has a flair for comedy and manages to get every member of the audience laughing within minutes, ‘The Same Only Different’ explores differences in generations of Scots, and universal themes that pertain to everyone.
There is something for every audience member: cheeky jokes, nostalgic reminiscence, tongue-in-cheek charm. Sinclair delights and entertains in equal parts, a true comedian who never falls short in enthusiasm. Things haven’t changed so much, he reckons — and yet at the same time, everything is entirely different. This oxymoron provides ample opportunity for jokes and poking fun at every generation, from boomers to zoomers, and their idiosyncratic ways of living.
At the heart of Sinclair’s show is an earnest reminder that while at times we may feel out of our depth, humanity doesn’t change much. We will always remember each other and have ridiculous stories to share — and we will always find a way to laugh at ourselves. Kenny Sinclair captures the spirit of every generation in his fifty-five minute comedy show with just the right amount of audience interaction and clever scripting. From Naked Attraction to tales you’ll remember being told by your granny (or, depending on your age, you’ll remember first-hand!), the show is a quintessential Fringe comedy that you don’t want to miss.
Theo Mason Wood has been going through a break-up and he wants to talk about it. Emma has left him after he prioritised a gig at Las Iguana’s Taco Tuesday over her, and he was left bereft.
In a show covering poetry, freewheeling and surreal stories, a smattering of risque jokes, some work of the imagination, physical comedy and even a harmonica at one point, this is an unusual blend which has potential to be something really unique – as Theo himself notes, the venn diagram of his work and traditional comedy doesn’t exist, the twain are yet to meet. I think this is a slightly unfair assessment – but it’s true, this isn’t a typical stand-up hour.
He has a talent for surrealist story-telling, which is apparent from the start – a memorable date encounter in the park, and the telling of “the Yoghurt Story” which is the one that will probably be the most recalled section of the show (this is also available on YouTube, but missing a hypnotic physical movement present in the live show), but my particular favourite was “My Life Is Perfect” as a life disintegrates around him.
The parts between his stories and poems do feel a bit lacking in comparison, and tended to elicit some groans more than laughter.
Tonight’s crowd was a particularly whispery/chatty one (Theo clearly regretting some flyering decisions made prior to the show) and in an over-hot room, which probably muted some reactions more than deserved. The introduction of his new girlfriend Natalie was somewhat ponderous, and at this point the audience attention span was flagging, but somewhat came together at the end with a rather convoluted throwback.
Theo’s clearly talented, and his combination of wide-eyed physicality and story-telling in this hour feels fresh, and unique, with potential to develop further. If you’re looking for something that doesn’t conform to the traditional stand-up format, this is a show worth checking out. Theo Mason Wood: Legalise Kissing runs until 24 August, at 22:00 at Underbelly Bristo Square.
Love: the most celebrated, complicated, irresistible of emotions– the muse of poets, the heart of myths, the hero of every story. It’s so deeply human that we recognise it from the moment we enter the world, and spend our lives seeking it in others and in ourselves. However, in today’s hectic, disconnected world, love feels harder than ever to define, let alone find. With overstimulating media, social anxiety, unrealistic expectations, and noisy hate, opening ourselves to another can feel impossible. Vulnerability gives way to guardedness: we commit to non-commitment and keep intimacy at arm’s length to avoid being hurt. Lightbulbs dives straight into this tension, offering a tender exploration of the modern “situationship” through a queer, interracial couple. What emerges is a grounded, gentle, and recognisable portrait of love in all its fragility.
Lightbulbs is a one-act, movement-driven exploration of fear in love, told through a series of intimate moments. We follow Oran (Reuben Oladehin) and Ezekiel (Max Burns) as they fall for one another, glimpsing both the joys and fractures of their relationship. Their connection is mirrored by the only set pieces onstage– two bare lightbulbs, flickering on and off to reflect who is reaching for whom, and when (rarely together). At its core lies Oran’s fear of commitment–shaped by overthinking, internalised homophobia, and a struggle with vulnerability– compounded by the couple’s lack of healthy communication. Directed by TJ
Roderick, who co-wrote the piece with his production company co-owner Heather Woodhouse, the show is quick, tender, and quietly truthful.
The portrayal of the relationship in Lightbulbs is both thoughtful and deeply intimate. Heavy movement sequences form the show’s central language, layered with poetic dialogue and situations that uncannily mirror real life. The result is a piece that feels both stylised and utterly truthful. Oladehin and Burns deliver outstanding performances, particularly through their physicality. The choreography is dynamic, sexy, and heartbreaking– executed with a sense of ease and playfulness that makes it all the more compelling. From fluttering moths conjured by fingers, to Oladehin’s endearing zoomies as Burns quietly devours an ice cream in real time, to a dazzling nightclub sequence where spinning bodies dissolve into spinning heads and spinning hearts– the show is consistently inventive, engaging and alive.
The casting choices further elevate the work. While this story could resonate with anyone because of its humanity, the interracial and queer pairing adds a poignant layer of complexity. Cultural sensitivity shapes the struggle of each character: they connect immediately as people, yet wrestle with the acceptance of their love. This tension is most visible in Oran, whose fear of intimacy and internalised homophobia drive much of the conflict. As Ezekiel patiently reaches out, Oran retreats– unable to admit the flowers in his hand are from a boyfriend and not for a girlfriend, dismissing Ezekiel’s declarations of love with hedges and deflections, and even cutting him down with remarks about desire. It’s painful to watch, precisely because it feels so recognisable: fear masquerading as rejection, self-doubt sabotaging connection. Oran is, in his own words, “happy in suspension”– yet it is the landing, the act of commitment, that terrifies him.
The direction is outstanding. While Woodhouse and Roderick’s script is already strong, TJ Roderick’s vision elevates it with precision and creativity. The piece is structurally strong, balancing moments of playfulness and joy that make the heavier drama hit harder, and featuring choreography that deserves particular praise– Roderick is certainly one to watch. Lighting and sound design further enrich the work: Liam Walton-Bell’s ethereal, fluid lighting choices lift the piece with striking colours, while the original music by Andrés Peña, Parsa Valiany, and Emma Haines/Haiines is thoughtful, uplifting, and well-judged. Just as effective are the silences, which ground the piece and make the music shimmer all the more when it arrives.
Overall, Lightbulbs captures the paradox and struggles of love with honesty and artistry. It’s quick, tender, and full of truth– a piece that glows long after the lights go out.
Lightbulbs is playing at the Jack Studio Theatre until August 23rd at 7:30 pm. Grab your tickets here!
A mythological tale for the modern age, Lightning Boy is a bolt of musical joy
NYMT’s Lightning Boy made its world premiere at the Birmingham Hippodrome on Thursday 21st August, reimagining the myth of Zeus as a coming-of-age musical. The show follows 16 year-old Zeus (played by Toby Mocrei) as he works at the Sky High Diner on Mount Olympus and dreams of a life outside the diner – and a life with his human childhood sweetheart, Io (played by Lizzie Wells). Written by Charlie Turner and Liv Warden, it’s a fresh, modernised take on ancient mythology, and from start to finish feels like a neon-soaked mythological remix, swapping scrolls and temples for milkshakes and teenage angst.
The show did hit a small snag early on – a tech hiccup meant a restart partway through the opening number. While it momentarily broke the spell, the young cast handled it with such professionalism that it became a testament to their talent, rather than a detraction. From that point on, everything ran near-seamlessly.
It’s exciting to see a NYMT production because you know that you’re witnessing the early steps of some major careers in the making – but this cast in particularly feel electric. Mocrei leads the show impressively – particularly in the group dance numbers, where he really shines. His Zeus is relatable and endearing, and we have no doubt that we’ll continue to see him on even bigger stages soon.
Joseph Firth’s laid back, flamboyant Poseidon is pure comedic charm, a perfect juxtaposition to Quentin Ballard’s angsty, brooding Hades. Speaking of Hades – wow. His solo number, God Awful, is a thunderous vocal showcase, and one of the show’s most memorable moments.
My personal highlight was Hera’s number, I’ll Be Your Dream, which Amy-Pearl Watt performs beautifully. It’s a gentle, harmony-rich moment of the show that still hasn’t left my head. Watt absolutely nails it, and she was a real standout in the show.
The score is full of earworms, the sort of songs that you immediately want to hear again. As I found myself frantically scrolling through Instagram and Tiktok the next day, hunting for clips, I was reminded of how rare that feeling is – the kind of musical magic that can make someone fall in love with theatre.
All of the group numbers were a consistent high point, packed with sharp choreography and real ensemble cohesion. The Olympians set the bar high with All Hands On Deck in Act 1, and Poseidon leads a high-energy, gleeful number in Come On In (The Waters Fine), filled with charisma and sass. The Act 1 finale, Lightning, is the show-stopper, filled with thunder, lightning and drama.
Lightning Boy never pretends to be your classic Greek tragedy: it’s a joyful, popified spectacular, filled with heart. From the set, to the choreography, to the score – and of course, the outstanding cast – it’s a show that delivers with confidence, charm, and a whole lot of fun. A mythological tale for the modern age, and one I’ll gladly watch again, first chance I get.
a fantastically polished debut show, packed with content and hilarity,
Rohan Sharma is in a state of disconnection. In this fast-paced multimedia-laced debut, we’re taken on a whistlestop tour through areas of his internal conflict with unexpected and hilarious results.
The self-proclaimed Mad Dog sets the scene early with a quick quiz to determine if a crowd member is racist, before diving into his material. We whip through topics such as British food, sex appeal of money, Madame Tussauds, and an intriguing politician his mother encountered in Beaconsfield – Colonel Gaddaffi. We also have Dan the tech, chipping in with his own brand of comedy on occasion, and the founding of a new investment opportunity, as well as the perils of oppression vs privilege, and the thorny topic of finding love. The gags come thick and fast, accompanied by copious laughter, and the PowerPoint use is fresh and fun, without being overused.
This is a well-crafted show, and the pace is kept up throughout – there’s some lovely visual gags, particularly where Rohan’s called out for some ‘emotional truths’ by Dan, and the series of apologies that follows, which skewer some of the comedy show tropes. Not all of the punchlines land quite as Rohan expects, but there’s a general good natured fun to it all that it all works anyway. Similarly, at times the backing music felt a touch too loud, but might just be my seat on the night.
What really elevates this show above what could be just a good fun hour, is Rohan addressing the fact that he’s not focusing on topics that he would be expected to focus on for a ‘successful’ Fringe show – there’s a lack of trauma or racism he’s encountered. He’s authentic to his own self and what matters to him – namely finding love, and a mild obsession with that aforementioned dictator. I won’t include any spoilers about what these entail, but there are delightful curveballs and looping callbacks peppered throughout, in a highly satisfying way.
This is a fantastically polished debut show, packed with content and hilarity, and sure to cement Rohan as a comedian to keep an eye on in the months and years to come.
The classic series by C.S. Lewis has recently had a cultural resurgence, with Greta Gerwig’s star-studded new film famously in the works. The Sadler’s Wells production of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe celebrates the 75th anniversary of the legendary novel with a ‘larger-than-life production’ for all ages. Having already toured extensively, the London season comes about halfway through the 2025 UK and Ireland tour, leaving a trail of 5-star reviews in its wake.
A re-worked version of Sally Cookson’s original 2017 production, director Michael Fentiman leads this staging to an opening night standing ovation at Sadler’s Wells. A mesmerising production, this version races along whilst managing to not sacrifice story for the sake of pace.
Brought to life by a merry band of multi-talented performers, we watch as woodland creatures strum instruments, Father Christmas has a solo number and a gang of evil ‘cruels’ present a seamless dance routine. Tom Paris has created an exceptionally versatile set, allowing for transformation from railway station, to spare room to various locations in the magical landscape of Narnia. Costumes by Paris are also exceptional, mirroring the real-world outfits of soldiers during WW2, representing good and evil under the White Queen’s icy rule.
Lighting by Jack Knowles and sound by Tom Marshall work seamlessly together, creating an immersive world that practically envelopes the audience. The songs by Barnaby Race and Benji Bower slot easily into each scene, adding heart and showcasing the incredible vocals of many performers, notably Anya De Villiers as a steadfast Mrs Beaver.
Whilst this is undoubtedly an ensemble piece, a few performers manage to stand out from the talented chorus. Kudzai Mangombe is a sensational Lucy, effectively portraying a little girl who is both ‘the bringer of light’ and wise beyond her years. Bunmi Osadolor is equally adept at playing a petulant schoolboy, embodying the iconic role of Edmund beautifully.
The decision to portray Aslan with both a puppet and an actor is unusual, but works perfectly, humanising the dramatic moments of his ultimate self-sacrifice. Katy Stephens is a formidable White Witch, with Shane Anthony Whiteley playing unexpectedly terrifying Maugrim.
Making use of all the potential of true theatrical magic, every element of stagecraft in this production is polished to perfection, creating an unforgettable night at the theatre for all ages.
A heartfelt drama about the effect of cancer on loved ones
Suitable for ages 14+.
Lavender follows the relationship between Edie and Harvey, two young adults who seem to have a world of good things coming to them. Harvey has recently been made the owner of a bookstore, and surprises Edie with a pending trip to Australia. Edie manages to sell a house long deemed unsellable (due to someone having been found dead and rotting inside!). Their romantic bond, fuelled by banter, shepherd’s pie, and fiesty games of Uno, is put to the test when Harvey begins showing symptoms of, and is eventually diagnosed with, bowel cancer. Written and co-directed by Maisy Fuggle, the play provides an insight into the impacts of cancer on both the sufferer and those who love them.
Lavender is arguably a relatable play – many of us have either experienced cancer, or are close with someone who has. Even the initial experience of receiving a diagnosis causes one’s whole world to spin. Fuggle, portraying Edie, poignantly conveys the sense of devastation. We watch Edie go from sharp-tongued to lost for words, Fuggle’s body language becoming more tense and a quiver clouding her previously self-assured tone. Fuggle’s performance is commendable, resonating with those who have had to contend with losing loved ones.
Patryk Wachowiak plays Harvey with a boyish charm. Though he seems to overact towards the beginning of the play, this shows the ability of cancer to knock the wind out of a person. The contrast between the enthusiasm and exhaustion portrayed by Wachowiak is more pronounced, giving Lavender even more of an emotional weight.
Co-director Mya Agrawal portrays several roles in the play – all the small ones, as well as the part of Harvey’s longtime friend Talia. Agrawal uses different accents and hilarious facial expressions. Her stage presence is so much fun to see, and her performance is Talia is wonderfully sensitive.
Though cancer is a sensitive subject to write about, and Fuggle succeeds in accentuating the difficult moments, the script is infused with much-needed comedy. Just as we want to remember the funny, beautiful moments we shared with our loved ones – though they may have been in pain towards the end, they never lost their stubbornness during games of Uno! – Lavender shows that it is entirely possible to honour someone’s memory with humour and hope. Edie and Harvey are a very likeable couple, which makes Harvey’s death all the more tough, but also allows us to root for Edie’s healing. The two actors have great chemistry, and are exciting to watch.
The pacing of the play interested me greatly. The transition from one scene to the next is signified by a loud switching on and off of a light, while the three actors run to their correct places – all in the space of around two or three seconds. This may be considered startling or off-putting to some, the abrupt nature of the transitions contrasting with some of the more tender or emotional scenes. However, Fuggle may have done this to symbolise just how short life can be, fighting to capture as many moments as is possible in ninety minutes. Each actor works collaboratively to pull off each scene and transition, ensuring that Lavender is consistently watchable in a technical sense as well as a heartfelt one.
Putting the camp in campaign: Jessica Durand gives a riotous ride into the world of fanfiction, Downtown Abbey and WW1
Over the top on one hand is a story about WW1, the brutality soldiers faced in grim impossibly large and slow battlefields resembling hell. On the other hand it’s a really really really funny and camp self-insert fan faction story about Jessica Durand finding her kinky lover Ms Trunchbull (yes from Matilda), featuring the characters of Downtown Abbey, Kermit the Frog and more. It’s ridiculous, it’s hilarious from start to finish and if the term “fan fiction” isn’t an immediate turn off you should see this without reading another word.
Jessica Durand has written a thoroughly funny and welcoming show that is a love letter to a much maligned space of the internet that fan fiction dwells in. She beds us all in with a rare use of an actually funny slideshow in comedy, and a brief live reading of a particularly interesting fanfiction involving Kermit, a Downton Abbey character and kidnapping kinks. This intro easily won over any stragglers in the audience, and had rambunctious amounts of laughter filling the room. Once the meat of the show starts – you know you’re in for a wild time.
Complete with costume changes, guest appearances and occasional bits of medical mystery, its a rollercoaster story that demands you not take it too seriously. As long as you’re open to the insanity, gay love triangles, and learning more Downtown abbey plot than any other fringe show its guaranteed laughs. But approach it with cynicism and you’ll lock yourself out of having any of its utterly silly fun.
Jessica is engaging both as a storyteller, and as a friend guiding you through their obsession. She makes it easy to get interested in her niches and radiates all her obsessive joy through every punchline, costume change and side track. Making audience participation not a terrifying thing to partake in is always praise worthy especially in the crazy context of someone having to read from a script as wild as this one.
I can’t recommend this to everyone, but I think if you at all enjoy camp, fandom culture, tumblr, twilight, rocky horror culture and comedy Jessica Durand will make you laugh more than most can, like hanging out with a crazy and lovable best friend. I wouldn’t trade this shows absurdity and commitment to its niche audience for wider appeal, its part of what made this feel like a family gathering of nerds.
See Jessica Durand: Over The Top every night until the 24th (inclusive) at 6:55pm at Underbelly Cowgate
At the edge of the 20th century, the Pennington family’s fractures are laid bare with striking clarity in Adrian Noble’s captivating revival of Andrew Keatley’s The Gathered Leaves.
Ten years after its critically acclaimed premiere at the Park Theatre, Andrew Keatley’s The Gathered Leaves makes a dazzling return to north London. Set design by Dick Bird is captivating as soon as you enter the house with a grand chandelier, crown molding, and the fully fitted-out sitting room of the Pennington family home. Not a detail was too small in this production, and the care and intimacy stretched its way through all aspects of the piece, not just the set design.
Weaving its way through Easter weekend, 1997, the Pennington family is fully reunited for the first time in 17 years for patriarch William’s (Jonathan Hyde) 75th birthday. As is the case with most family dramas, there is a family scandal at the periphery slyly making its way into casual conversation and haunting the awkward silences. An estranged daughter, Alice, coolly played by Olivia Vinall, is set to make her return with her own daughter, Aurelia (Taneetrah Porter), after years abroad. The most compelling relationship, however, is between brothers Samuel (Richard Stirling) and Giles (Chris Larkin), glimpsed with charm in two flashback scenes where their younger selves are harmoniously portrayed by Joe Burrell and Ellis Elijah, perfectly in tune with their elder counterparts. Stirling’s portrayal of Samuel’s autism is done with care and aptitude that allows the authenticity of the character to be felt in all of his interactions, and Larkin’s sensitivity and fortitude as a protective brother is juxtaposed with his fraught relationship with their father.
You can sense the cracks in the foundation of the Pennington house, as the younger generations gain their voices, and the older become less steadfast with William’s recent dementia diagnosis. Grandchildren Emily (Ella Dale) and Simon (George Lorimer), the children of Giles and his icy wife Sophie (Zoe Waites), increasingly push the boundaries of their familial traditions as the weekend progresses, from Simon not shaving for church and arguing about feminism with his mother, to Emily sneaking into the living room with Aurelia in the middle of the night for a nightcap. Porter’s calm and calculated interactions as Aurelia pierce through the underlying tension in several moments throughout, and are especially endearing as she shares the stage with Hyde in a rare moment alone to bond.
Adrian Noble’s expertise and craftsmanship is evident in every inch of this play. The slow, calculated movements of the action, and the ease with which characters exist in this world, allows audiences to fade into the depths of the Pennington family home. The almost 3 hour piece flies by while we see a family grapple with unresolved conflict and newfound bits to quarrel about. While some scenes ended with slightly cliched vignettes, supposedly exposing characters’ inner motivations, the world of the piece never faltered from its naturalistic presence.
The collaboration throughout the whole team is seamless, with unobtrusive sound design by Max Pappenheim and lighting by Paul Pyant. The sound design is subtle with a clock ticking and birds chirping in the main scenes, but then does a lot of heavy lifting through transitions as it grows into an emotional piano foreshadowing, setting the style and tone of the inner life of the piece. Dick Bird, also eases us into the world of 1997 without beating us over the head about it. The simple and accurate costume design allows us to feel as if we’re panning through an old family photo album.
With London theatre-goers often chasing the new and experimental, The Gathered Leaves reminds us of the quiet power of a well-crafted family drama: intimate, tender, and devastatingly familiar.
An energetic and inventive show that needs more focused material.
Dan Leith invites us into the Flight Club for an hour of alternative musical comedy in his new show Defiling Gravity. The show covers life’s ups and downs and the ways in which Dan has survived death, from his family’s near miss with the Titanic to an array of self-inflicted accidents.
The Flight Club is a particularly interesting venue that is set up as though the audience are seated inside an aircraft, including genuine airplane seats with tray tables. Dan uses this to his advantage and includes show material that is tailored to the room. This is an impressive use of the space that really paid off as the safety announcement elicited strong laughs from the audience.
With a mix of comedic songs, anecdotes and audience interaction, the show is entertaining in parts but sometimes lacks clear focus. Dan has a great stage presence and energy, however, some of the material doesn’t quite hit the mark with unclear anecdotes and punchlines that fail to elicit a response from the audience. Parts of the performance rely quite heavily on audience interaction, which unfortunately is not always forthcoming.
It is clear to see that Dan has a talent for music, his songs are well-written and catchy, but there are just not enough laugh-out-loud moments for this musical comedy show.
For the audience to remain engaged and the show to thrive, the material will need tightening up, but Dan’s energy and passion shine through.
