Tag: theatre

REVIEW: A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Published on by tgilfillan4512d47d4dLeave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

An enjoyable and clever production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream for a younger audience.

This production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream is the Unicorn Theatre’s first co-production with the Royal Shakespeare Company, creating a pared back version of the play that is accessible to children as young as seven. The production is playful and witty, blending smart moments of direction with an ability to tap into childish wonder. 

Co-directors Rachel Bagshaw and Robin Bellfield have approached the daunting task of slimming down Shakespeare with precision, and the play feels approachable for a younger audience without, for the most part, losing the depth and nuance of the original script. The use of projected captions in various funky fonts on the pared back backdrop of plywood-like material is an especially clever device, working particularly well for the voice-over interjections of Titania’s attendant fairies. 

The play centers around four lovers fleeing Athens for the woods surrounding for their own different romantic reasons, encountering magical confusion and chaos. The forest is ruled by its quarrelling fairy King and Queen, Oberon and Titania, played by Chris Jared and Amelia Donkor. Both Jared and Donkor display a commanding presence befitting their characters, with a standout scene being their first explosive argument, physically twisting as if they are both being blown around by the storms that have manifested from their quarrel, as the guardians of nature. 

The lovers’ portrayal of both the comedy and the deep pain of love is enthusiastically conveyed by a lively and responsive quartet. Boni Adelyi is particularly captivating as Helena, moving from confused anguish to playful exuberance, making Helena’s desperate pursuit of Demetrius both pitiable and deeply understandable, not always the case with this character. The lovers’ scenes contrast with the comic relief of the bumbling mechanicals, led by one of Shakespeare’s most brilliant comic creations, Bottom (Emmy Stonelake). Stonelake gives a fantastic rendition, making each well-loved line feel fresh and spontaneous, drawing laughs from all ages within the audience. 

Praise must also be given for Puck, played by Joséphine-Fransilja Brookman with charm and the accompaniment of silver bells of laughter. Necessarily for a children’s production, the character loses some of its complexity, the more darkly mischievous elements of a fairy who is aligned with her sometimes immensely cruel master. Nonetheless, Brookman floats and dances across the stage with an effortless physicality, ultimately drawing the play to a quiet and beautiful close. In another strong piece of staging, she bends over a glowing orb, her shadow leaping up the wall, sending the audience away feeling the world is a little more magical. 

The production is at the Unicorn Theatre, London, until the 10th May. Tickets linked here: https://www.unicorntheatre.com/events/a-midsummer-nights-dream

REVIEW: Just Enough Madness & Caught Again in the Net of Rebirth

Published on by laurentemplepoetLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

A baptism of dance, music, and light.

These two performances centring around the theme of motherhood, especially in relation to loss and societal expectations of women, were told through the medium of Indian dance and both produced by MILAP, the UK’s leading Indian Arts and Culture company.

The first performance (Ramchandani’s Just Enough Madness), took a modern street-dance informed approach to Indian dance. This was reflected in the costumes, which had traditional Indian silhouettes but in a muted colour scheme. The performance was abstract, with the dance reflecting emotions more than a narrative. The piece begins in darkness, with black curtains and liquid-like black flooring, creating a liminal effect like you’ve been transported into a different plane of existence (possibly the subconscious mind of a mother). The music (live singing with prerecorded instrumentals) certainly aided this effect, hypnotically drawing the audience into the symbolic world created by Ramchandani. The bodies of the dancers are abstracted, becoming machinery, weapons, animals, and multiple bodies that move as one. The lighting design emphasises this, creating vivid moments of strength and intimacy (both literal and emotional). What is really fascinating about this piece is that it is made up of several men and only one woman. This is an interesting choice, and is especially potent when two of the male dancers form the shape of a vagina and give birth to another man. Perhaps this is a reflection of how much control that men have over women’s bodies.

The second performance (Gobardhan’s Caught in the Net of Rebirth) had clearer narrative elements and took an approach that focused on more purely Indian dance. Again, this was reflected through the costuming, this time with the traditional silhouettes being brightly coloured and complimented by cultural makeup and jewellery. In this performance men are present but are more background players, with the female voice taking centre stage. This is both through the primary mother figure but also through the singing of the grandmother figure, highlighting the generational strain of motherhood.

Gobardhan’s performance was much longer than Ramchandani’s, and honestly although it was very enjoyable at first, it dragged a lot, especially due to frequent use of repetition. There was a desire for the final release, the moment of breaking free and divulging into madness, but there is only so long that you can stay on the edge of your seat before you fall off it.

A reoccurring image in the performance was that of fabric and rope. Rope was used symbolically to show the battle that motherhood brings, with the dancers pushing and pulling and tangling with it. Poetry was also a key part of the performance, which, for the most part, beautifully accompanied the dance and music, to show the struggles of motherhood. To quote Gobardhan: ‘Once my womb was a forest alive with light … now I am faded whispers.’

An element that really shone bright in Gobardhan’s performance was the space it allowed for joy and play, with cultural traditions amongst family and community, being placed within the context of the role that women are obliged to play within them. A central theme was pretending to be ok to fit the role of woman and/or mother. This was reflected by the facial movements showing the daily performance that women have to do and the mask they have to wear, as Gobardhan says: ‘Still I smile because isn’t that what mothers do’, which then results in the panicked puppet-like dancing reflecting how women are controlled under patriarchy, as Gobardhan pleads ‘I am no god with arms of plenty’. There is a false end where the woman seems to embrace both the joy and suffering of motherhood and is no longer hiding from either, instead embracing the complexities of motherhood. This would have been a really strong place to end the performance, and yet it went on for much longer than necessary.

Although the themes of motherhood were universal, it would be interesting to know how the experience of someone of the same language/ culture would have experienced the show differently with their gained insight. However, in both performances the amazing dancing, music, and lighting design conveyed meaning beyond language and culture, to create an vivid exploration of what it is like to be a mother.

‘Just Enough Madness’ and ‘Caught Again in the Net of Rebirth’ were performed as a double bill at the Lowry, Manchester, on Tuesday 31st March.

REVIEW: Operation Mincemeat

Published on by jessicafrancis08Leave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

To agree with Monty and the whole team, “God, that’s brilliant.”

Walking into the New Theatre for Operation Mincemeat, I knew exactly what I was in for. This was my fifth time seeing the show, and yet it still managed to feel fresh, sharp and just as entertaining as ever. Even with a few subtle changes from its West End run, the heart of the production remains completely intact, continuing to land both its comedy and its emotional beats with ease.

Telling the extraordinary true story of the WWII deception operation that helped turn the tide of the war, Operation Mincemeat is fast-paced, inventive and entirely driven by its cast. With just five performers taking on a huge range of roles, the success of the show rests almost entirely on their shoulders. Thankfully, this cast more than delivers, working as a tightly controlled ensemble that never drops energy or precision.

Holly Sumpton’s Monty was a standout, full of swagger and self-confidence while still maintaining that slightly ridiculous sense of dignity the role demands, very much “like a cow.” Christian Andrews brought real emotional weight to ‘Dear Bill’, landing the moment with sincerity and control, while also matching the show’s comic rhythm elsewhere. Sean Carey was a brilliant lolloping sidekick, bouncing off Monty’s energy with ease and clarity.

Charlotte Hanna-Williams was a perfect plucky heroine, full of warmth and determination. Her performance in ‘Useful’, alongside Andrews, was a particular highlight.

It’s one of my favourite songs in the show, and they did it complete justice. Jamie-Rose Monk, the only cast member new to Operation Mincemeat, slotted in seamlessly. Her take on Haselden was a joy to watch, and she more than held her own alongside an already well-established company.

Having previously seen the show in the more intimate setting of the Fortune Theatre, the move to the much larger New Theatre inevitably shifts the dynamic. Some of that closeness is lost, but the production adapts well to the bigger space without losing its momentum. A few entrance changes and small staging tweaks have been introduced, along with a fun addition to Monty’s moment in the glitzy finale. These are not major alterations, but they offer something new for returning audiences.

What remains unchanged is the show’s ability to connect with its audience. The atmosphere in the theatre was electric, with consistent laughter throughout and a clear sense of shared enjoyment. By the final number, the entire audience was fully on board, culminating in a well-earned standing ovation. Even bringing along someone new to the show, it was clear how quickly it wins people over, with lines already being quoted on the way out.

Operation Mincemeat continues to prove why it has built such a loyal following. Smart, inventive and packed with standout performances, it holds up brilliantly, whether it is your first visit or your fifth. And honestly, to agree with Monty and the whole team, “God, that’s brilliant.”

This show runs at New Theatre Oxford until 4th April. Tickets here.

REVIEW: The Constant Wife

Published on by nebularis85Leave a comment

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A pivotal and highly relatable piece of comic theatre

The festival theatre in Edinburgh this week presents “The Constant Wife” by stage and screen writer Laura Wade, famously well known for her TV-writing- “Rivals”- and her award-winning writing for stage performance “Home, I’m Darling”. This play has been adapted as a piece of comedic writing for the stage based on its original themes from the book written by William Somerset Maugham.

We meet Constance at the height of success, married to the perfect partner, a successful surgeon, John Middleton, in their beautifully decorated London flat, in 1927. The action dives right into the outside looking into what appears to be a perfect life. However, we learn early on that John’s infidelity has been ongoing for some time and right under Constance’s nose.

Her sister and mother share strong opinions about how this should be handled as they are aware, but believe that Constance is not. As “The Constant Wife”, Constance cleverly highlights the struggles in all women as they desire to be seen as more than a wife and a mother.

Packed with wit, hilarity and pivotal moments, the play reflects on difficulties and change, themes within the original story and their relevance today in particular the “empty nest” syndrome as children leave home and its impact on a marriage as time passes and infatuation fades.

There are stellar performances all round by this talented cast. Kara Tointon takes on the leading lady as Constance Middleton, embodying the play’s title as the constant wife. She does a great job of driving the cast through, however at times can present a little wooden in her movement and comfortability on stage. Certainly, she finds her pacing and strength as the character develops her independence more into the second act, complimented well by Amy Vicary–Smith’s brilliant performance as Constance’s unmarried sister. She is highly successful with her own business and continues to embrace every aspect of the key theme of independence and how it frees her creativity as an interior designer.

Tim Delap (John Middleton) delivers the persona of a steady husband. He commands the stage with grace and aplomb holding himself to the patriarchal standards expected of him at this time. His expectation of his wife simply to continue in her role with his devotion offered as enough for her is highly reflective of historical relationships of the 20th century.

Alex Mugnaioni (Bernard Kersal) is highly likeable and shows great comical timing during awkward moments with a simplistic, naturalistic air in his delivery. Philip Rham as butler Mortimer, when playing the piano, adds an additional charm and fun to his character, enhancing the high society ambience on stage and bringing warmth when moments truly need them. Gloria Onitri’s portrayal of Mary Louise is at times a tad melodramatic; however, it works well with her character’s frivolous and often shallow behaviour. Sara Crowe sustains a great level of energy throughout as Constance and Martha’s opinionated and critical mother. Her views encompass those of a generation who perhaps wish they had had more courage to change. Whilst her mother seems dismissive of the undoing of her daughter’s marriage, she nevertheless supports her decisions to take back her independence whatever way it may present itself. Her journey is beautiful to watch as she transforms into a supportive mother determined to understand the choices her daughters make for their own good.

The costumes are tailored beautifully and are designed by co-costume designers Anna Fleischle and Cat Fuller. Using lovely bright colours and at times relaxed casual wear the female characters embrace the theme of independence holding themselves with warmth and relaxed togetherness during challenging moments. Contrastingly the male characters hold closely to traditions with a very formal presentation at all times and are formally well turned out. They desperately try to sustain composure during entertaining and particularly stressful moments however come off more hysterical and childish than intended. The set is simple, but effective depicting elegance and art deco design trends. Transitions in time- as the action takes place in one location- are cleverly executed by set changes which are swift and never detract from the action on stage. Jamie Callum’s musical score, in addition, creates lightness and relaxing vibes when it is most needed increasing the light heartedness of the piece between scenes. Creative team director Tamara Harvey and producer David Pugh successfully bring everything together, enhancing the comedic style of the piece. The cleverly crafted and powerful dialogue compliments the direction well and incorporates Maugham’s intent behind the blueprint of how women may choose to live their lives in the future. There are some echoes of Ibsen’s Nora throughout this entertaining and quick-witted comedy.

Running from 31st March – 4th April at the Festival theatre in Edinburgh this relatable comedy drama is definitely worth a look.

Tickets here.

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IN CONVERSATION WITH: H Sneyd 

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with H Sneyd, an actor in Open Aire Theatre’s Managed Approach – a new, semi-verbatim play about the UK’s first legalised red-light district.

This show comes to Riverside Studios from 13th to 25th April 2026 – Tickets here

The play is rooted in very recent real-life events. What drew you to be part of telling this particular story?

Jules Coyle, our writer, has done such an incredible job with the script and the blend between the verbatim and fictional scenes was so exciting for me. Also, sex work is still so taboo for many people and I think there’s a real dissonance between the normalisation of online sex work compared to on-street sex work. Holding up a mirror to these experiences feels important in order to encourage larger conversations. 

You perform verbatim material drawn from real interviews. How did you approach the responsibility of giving voice to someone else’s lived experience?

I feel the most important objective when performing verbatim material is trying to make it feel as truthful as possible. More so than fictional scripts, you’re able to tease out the underlying intention, or thought processes, or relationship the speaker has with the interviewer through the language they use. I’ve found it useful to consider, ‘Why has she chosen to restart her sentence here?’, ‘What could be the rest of the line she chose to trail off here and why has she trailed off?’. It’s important to realise that you can’t completely represent a real person when you only have limited material. I think our job is to build a character which feels honest and naturalistic that authentically embodies the verbatim material. 

What has surprised you about the emotional range of the piece as it plays in front of an audience?

The relationship between Kate and Abby (the play’s fictional mother and daughter) is incredibly layered and the script reflects such a complex range of emotions within the dynamic that has really resonated with audiences. This is particularly with mother/daughter pairs or often mums coming alone and seeing their own combative arguments, giggles and fears of safety reflected onstage. It’s been really amazing to witness their reactions.

Has the piece evolved since its Edinburgh Fringe run, and how has it affected your performance?

Having more time during this rehearsal period has been so lovely, and coming back to the characters definitely feels like returning to an old skin. A consequence of having a slightly different cast definitely changes the dynamic and the approaches to characters, which is so exciting. I’ve been particularly enjoying our directors’ encouragement to explore physicality and embodiment to really consider the nuances of each character.

What kinds of conversations have you noticed audiences having after seeing the show?

I think what is most exciting about the post-show discussions is that, after hearing all the perspectives on the Managed Approach, people can’t come to a definite moral conclusion on it. There is so much nuance to the Managed Approach, both Dani and Ellen (the verbatim roles I play) openly admit that it didn’t completely remove the danger of sex work, even without the threat of police intervention. Managed Approach has acted as such an incredible springboard for wider conversations about women’s safety and sex work, and how it is approached both at an institutional level and on a personal level, especially by other women. 

REVIEW: In Some Dark Valley

Published on by mirandalangleyLeave a comment

Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

“A ‘poor wayfaring stranger’ takes us on a journey through the dark heart of post-Civil War Appalachia.“

Henrik Ibsen’s 1865 tragedy Brand tells the story of a zealous preacher at odds with a society he deems cold, corrupt, and materialistic. It has enjoyed many incarnations, but Robert Bailey’s decision to relocate the story to post-Civil War Appalachia in his one-man show In Some Dark Valley is particularly inspired. The region’s wild mountainous landscape, fire-and-brimstone religiosity, and stark social inequality mirror Ibsen’s Scandinavia with striking effect. Punctuated by snatches of traditional folk song, the production becomes an atmospheric and often uncanny reimagining of an age-old tale of man’s fraught relationship with God.

Reverend Brand – an intense, brooding preacher dressed all in black – cuts a mysterious figure on a bare stage. “I don’t know where I am,” he admits, yet he is compelled to offer “testimony” of the journey that has led him here. He guides us through the ‘infernal darkness’ of his poverty-stricken childhood to his spiritual awakening in a shadowy forest. He recounts his rise as a charismatic circuit preacher and his love for the devout Agnes. It is this unwavering mission, however, that leads to his ultimate downfall.

When a devastating sickness strikes the town – seen by many as divine retribution for the Civil War – Brand’s rigid beliefs are tested. Setting the story in the war’s aftermath proves particularly effective, revealing a society shaken not only by a staggering death toll but by profound social change. Brand’s ideal of a church open to all races is radical and idealistic, and is unsurprisingly met with hostility.

The script is the production’s greatest strength. Rich in imagery, it vividly evokes misty churchyards, shadowy forests, and remote hillside hollers, blending religious symbolism with folk mysticism. In one striking moment, the voice of God “floated out on the morning breeze like a ribbon come loose from a gal’s hair.” Crucially, the writing resists sentimentalising Brand; the cost of his moral absolutism on his family is clear and often disturbing.

Billy Siegenfeld’s direction is deft and assured, moving us through multiple locations across a sparse, austere set. Yet the production lacks a necessary spark. The storytelling is deliberate and measured, which suits the descriptive passages but slows the overall pace. Greater variation in rhythm and sharper emotional shifts are needed to fully ignite the drama.

Bailey delivers a committed and thoughtful performance, finding moments of tenderness and wry humour. However, his preacher never fully convinces; the sermons lack the fiery conviction one expects. Only in a surreal dream sequence – where visions of hell are recounted – does the physical and vocal performance reach the chilling intensity demanded by the language. I attended the opening performance, and there is every chance the piece will settle and develop over its run.

Some of the most affecting moments come through Bailey’s renditions of Appalachian folk songs. Their themes of rural isolation, unshakable faith, and romantic longing form the emotional backbone of the piece, resonating deeply. His plaintive voice and total commitment cut through the stillness, creating moments that send genuine chills through the audience.

In Some Dark Valley is a thoughtful and atmospheric work which, with a few small adjustments, could become a barnstorming festival favourite worthy of a rousing amen.In Some Dark Valley is on at the White Bear Theatre until 4th April. Tickets here.

REVIEW: In The Print

Published on by Mark LloydLeave a comment

Rating: 3 out of 5.

“An engaging production that prints the legend, but struggles to find the soul of the story.”

Following their dive into 1970s high-stakes politics with The Gang of Three, writing duo Robert Khan and Tom Salinsky return to the 20th century with In The Print. This time, the battlefield isn’t Westminster, but the press rooms of Fleet Street. The play charts the seismic Wapping dispute, where Rupert Murdoch took on the formidable print unions and fundamentally reshaped the British media landscape.

The script itself is undeniably tight and maintains a pacey energy that keeps the production moving along. Khan and Salinsky have a clear ear for sharp, punchy dialogue, and there is an evident effort to infuse the proceedings with humor. However, the production often feels like a play designed for an exclusive club of political aficionados. Much of the comedy relies heavily on a pre-existing syllabus of 1980s political trivia, and the jokes frequently fall flat for those lacking that specific historical context. At one point, a recurring gag involving a trade union leader reciting poetry veers into the surreal. While this is presumably intended as a nod to a real-life eccentricity, it feels jarring and alienating for audience members who weren’t there to witness the original events. For those born after the era depicted, many of the play’s satirical targets and specific character references remain frustratingly elusive.

While the historical narrative is undoubtedly compelling, the show struggles to bridge the gap between factual chronology and genuine character development. The play frequently prioritizes the “what” of history over the “why” of the human experience. We witness characters make massive, life-altering decisions, yet these shifts occur with little psychological foundation. The script seems to assume that because these events happened in reality, they do not require further explanation on stage. Consequently, we see precious little of the internal conflict or the difficult deliberations one would expect from such monumental turning points. The characters often feel like passive observers caught in the slipstream of history, acting as if events are simply happening to them rather than being driven by their own personal ambitions or fears.

The production is bolstered, however, by a cast that brings a great deal of commitment to the stage. While the roles themselves may not offer the deepest opportunities for nuance, the actors provide strong, grounded performances. Alan Cox is particularly effective as Rupert Murdoch, imbuing the media mogul with a chilling, quiet sense of menace that anchors the play’s central tension. Opposite him, Claudia Jolly gives a fierce and commanding performance as the militant union leader Brenda Dean, playing off Cox with impressive energy. Meanwhile, Alasdair Harvey offers an amusingly accurate impression of Andrew Neil; he successfully manages to capture the vocal mannerisms of the editor without ever allowing the performance to cross the line into cartoonish parody.

Visually, the production is well-served by its staging. A simple, static set allows the audience’s attention to remain entirely focused on the dialogue and the performances, and the costuming is effectively evocative, grounding the show firmly in the aesthetic of the 1980s.

In conclusion, In The Print is a solid, well-performed piece of dramatized history, yet it seems to lack that elusive spark that provides a truly urgent reason for its existence. Beyond simply recounting an interesting story from the recent past, the play’s own point of view remains somewhat unclear. It tells the story efficiently, but it fails to say something new or profound about the mechanics of power. If you are already well-versed in the history of the 1980s newspaper industry and would like to see these events dramatized in an entertaining, straightforward fashion, this is absolutely the show for you. However, if you are not already familiar with the primary movers and shakers of that era, you might find that reading a standard Wikipedia article on the Wapping dispute offers an equally compelling, if less theatrical, experience.

In The Print is playing at the Kings Head Theatre 1st April – 3rd May. Tickets are available here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Noah Wild

Published on by Tabitha JamesLeave a comment

We sat down for an exclusive interview with Noah Wild, an Oxford-based theatre maker and (fairly) recent university graduate. Their one-person play With All My Fondest Love goes on tour across the country following an acclaimed ★★★★ run at The Edinburgh Fringe.

 The play is touring to venues in Oxford, London and Brighton this spring – Tickets here.

With All My Fondest Love is rooted in the letters and diaries of your grandparents. What first inspired you to turn their story into a piece of theatre?

I started writing With All My Fondest Love during my final summer of University. I’d had my heart broken and, struggling with all the complicated feelings that created, realised I was probably experiencing love for the first time. It was around that point that I chanced upon a box of my grandparents’ love letters in the loft, dusty and unread. My grandmother was married by my age, so I became interested in what it means to conceive of love at this young age and how our understanding of love might change across generations and our own lifetime. 

Then, in the post, my uncle sent stacks of diaries written by my grandad. He was a strange diary writer: as soon as anything important happens, he stops writing. With no memories of my grandparents, these letters and diaries allowed me to discover a long, complex life story I’d never been aware of. But it’s those gaps that With All My Fondest Love is most focused on – can you really actually ever know your own family? 

Your play brings together three generations through its storytelling. What have you learned about love and relationships from looking so closely at your grandparents’ lives?

One of my favourite sections of With All My Fondest Love unites my grandparents, parents and myself on a series of train journeys. At their core, each generation is comparable, even passing through the same train stations. However, my grandparents’ marriage doesn’t fall within our normal definitions of love, it was bumpy and open-ended. One of the play’s most moving moments explores terminal illness and love is expressed through simple actions of care, rather than grand romantic declarations. Love becomes harder to pin down in the later stages of their marriage but it’s always there, perhaps just redefined. That’s had a big impact on my own expectations of what a lifetime commitment to loving someone might involve. 

How has working on this play changed the way you relate to your own family history?

It’s particularly changed how I relate to my grandmother, as she died eight years before I was born. Now, I think I have a much more human and nuanced connection to her life, in a particular an appreciation of how she managed to overcome neo-natal loss. I hope the complexity and contradictions of her character come across in the play. 

What’s been most interesting, however, is to see my Dad re-evaluate his connection to his parents, discovering an interior life to his parents alongside him. So it’s been beautiful to share in these surprises and discoveries – particularly when they have challenged or contradicted how he has usually described his parents. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the first time he watched the play alongside his brother, that was a special moment!

Carrying a solo performance requires a unique kind of presence and stamina. What has been the most challenging and rewarding aspect of holding the stage alone?

It felt very awkward and lonely at first, as I really missed having someone to react to as an actor! We’ve just finished rehearsing for the upcoming tour, two years after the play was last performed and I’d forgotten how exhausting performing alone is. And sometimes I do wish I’d written less lines for myself to learn…! 

But it is utterly amazing to hold a room completely in your own hands, slightly terrifying but thrilling. My grandfather, as a keen amateur actor and speech giver, would have loved to have his own one-person play, I think. So, something definitely runs in the family. 

If someone is coming to the show knowing very little about it, what would you love them to experience?

I hope With All My Fondest renews an interest in your own family history. My favourite part of performing the play is hearing about the amazing grandparents of our audiences (many of which deserve a play all of their own!). Through uniting three generations together, it explores how people, at different stages of life, are able to pick themselves up after loss and keep on living. I think there’s something profoundly hopeful and redemptive in that. So overall the play feels like a long, warm hug, something emotional but deeply comforting. Tender is the perfect word to describe it!

REVIEW: This Is Not About Me

Published on by Ke MengLeave a comment

Rating: 5 out of 5.

A strikingly inventive exploration of intimacy

What is intimacy? Is it awkward? Is it exhilarating? Is it something that will inevitably hurt? Is it negotiation over micro-powerdynamics, or a zero-sum game? Written and designed by Hannah Caplan, and directed and dramaturged by Douglas Clarke-Wood, This Is Not About Me acutely explores the shifting meanings of intimacy through Grace and Eli, a pair entangled in an intricate, long-standing relationship.

The design situates the show within multiple spider-like nets, with a trolley-bed at the central stage, and a projection screen behind. A pillow on the bed reads “Things we hate about each other”, followed by another declaring “Things we love about each other”. The pair meets after a long while to unwind their past. 

The first 20 minutes may feel a bit chopped up. There are witty exchanges and word-plays, but they are often lost amid overly frequent scene transitions, awkward puppetry, and indistinct video projections. Nonetheless, the play precisely captures and transfixes the awkward atmosphere of the pair whose history spans over intimacy, friendship and almost destruction. Interestingly, there is a kind of inverted parallel at work: while the narrative unfolds in reverse chronological order, its emotional intensity grows progressively deeper, barer, and much more unfiltered.

The use of subtitles is one of the best, if not the best, I have ever seen, perfectly reflecting what Grace indulges in as “contradiction and pretence as flirting”, while sitting in tension with the stark bareness of her “I love sex” speech. Their puppetry-based sex scene, in that sense, becomes a curious synthesis of both – something at once ultimately raw and predominantly pretentious. 

The show finds its strongest footing in the latter half, where it turns more metatheatrical, becoming a play about Grace writing a play about Grace and Eli, where their power-dynamic parallels the power-dynamic between those who have pen and those who have not, about the authenticity of self and how that self is (re)presented in other’s stories, as well as about physical theatrical presence and their visualised counterpart. 

One scene is particularly convincing. Eli (Francis Nunnery), in physical presence, interacts with a projected image of Grace (video designer Inigo Woodham-Smith), appearing almost like lying together. In the meantime, the physical presence of Amaia Naima Aguinaga, the actor of Grace, “puppeteering” Nunnery through those nets of ropes, thus embodying her fantasised imagery of Eli. Repulsed, Eli avenges by counter-writing a screenplay that polishes his own phallocentric fantasies.

The show ends up with the pair becoming absolutely bare about how they feel (including a fart joke), and the projection features their first meeting years ago. This dramaturgical and directorial decision somehow loses its momentum and feels a bit inadequate and undernourished. However, this does little to diminish its overall achievement, which offers probing perspectives, refreshing theatrical explorations and an exposed intimacy not just between Grace and Eli, but between the show and the audience.

This show runs from 25th March until 18th April. Tickets here.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Mithra Malek

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A young girl stands at the altar. A nation holds its breath.

Blending the brutal beauty of ancient tragedy with voices of today, this bold new production replaces the traditional chorus with filmed testimonies from women across cultures, interwoven with live contemporary folk music that bridges East and West. The testimonies – raw, intimate and fiercely honest – reflect on motherhood, loss, duty and war, reframing the myth for a modern world and offering a powerful counterpoint to a story shaped by the decisions of men.

A story of sacrifice, parenthood and the human cost of war – then and now. Tickets here.

Iphigenia is caught in a war she did not choose; what drew you to exploring her agency within such an impossible situation? 

The thing about Iphigenia is she’s completely powerless when it comes to the circumstances of the play: she has no authority over her fate. But what’s interesting is the ways she tries to find her own agency within these circumstances she has no control over. She goes from begging her father for her life, to reconciling with the fact that she can’t change his mind, and trying to find her own power in the fact that she is being sacrificed, stating how she refuses to go to her death like a ‘coward’, That’s very interesting to explore as an actor, how she is able to totally reframe situations with such conviction. 

Having worked extensively with Shakespeare, how did stepping into the heightened world of Greek tragedy reshape your approach to language and emotion? 

It’s a good question and something I’m still exploring/thinking about. But, at its core, it’s all about trusting the language and letting it guide you, and really considering the meaning of each word. 

This production weaves real testimonies from mothers affected by war into the myth; how does that contemporary layer change the way you think about Iphigenia’s story? 

What’s fascinating about working on an Ancient text and weaving modern day testimonies is it really shows how little has changed in terms of the circumstances people find themselves in, in terms of war and loss (which always seem so pointless). We never really learn or change when it comes to these things. At the same time, it’s also remarkable how, on a human level, humans today are experiencing the exact same emotions they were thousands of years ago. I always find it interesting the way the human experience, specifically in terms of love and connection, feels so consistent. 

Iphigenia’s fate is decided by forces far beyond her control; what have you discovered about her strength or complexity while preparing the role? 

Like I mentioned above, what’s interesting about Iphegenia is the way she tries to find her own power in a situation in which she is completely powerless. That resolve is always a gift to portray as an actor. 

You’ve moved between screen work like Anatomy of a Scandal and classical theatre; what keeps drawing you back to these epic, demanding texts? 

I think these classical roles keep coming back to me! The feeling is mutual. I love words, and feel I have an affinity with the language in these texts, which just came naturally to me. I honestly find rich language much easier to work with. People think of classical texts as being harder but I think that’s a myth. 

For audiences encountering Iphigenia today, what do you hope resonates most strongly about her story? 

I hope people leave the play thinking about the power we have as people. We watch these ridiculous and wild circumstances happening over and over again, and ask how. It’s because people just accept it, and we need to be reminded of our own power and how important it is to not just stand by. But of course, this can sometimes be difficult.