Tag: theatre

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Naomi Sorkin

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We sat down for a quick chat with Naomi Sorkin, curator of The Playground Theatre’s Women’s Voices festival.

Where did the original idea for Women’s Voices come from for you personally?

About a year and a half ago a colleague suggested that The Playground Theatre create something around International Women’s Day. I agreed it was a great idea, but what should it be? There are already events around the day, but as a theatre we have the opportunity to do something larger and more inclusive, featuring plays, films, spoken word, dance, and music. It’s a fantastic opportunity to represent women all across the Arts.

This is the second year of Women’s Voices – how does it feel seeing the festival return and grow?

It’s really exciting – this second festival is going to have 23 different events over the three-week period, whereas last year we had 18. We have also added to the mix with media, comedy, poetry – as well as a group of highly powerful business and political women telling stories not about their careers but about seminal moments in their lives. So it will be even more diverse with ever more fascinating stories to be told. What I realise is that we could have a much longer festival, as there really is a great need for this platform and endless stories, both past and present, that deserve our attention. 

As a curator, how do you decide which stories or artists make it into the programme when there are clearly so many possibilities?

Yes, it’s true – there are many possibilities, and we received many different submissions, but in the end, I have to choose based on my judgment of what really speaks to me personally. Do I think something is of good quality, whether from new or established voices, and then if it is, does it say something that moves me, makes me think, inspires me? That is what we hope to bring to an audience, and therefore, I am the first audience and make my decisions based on very personal responses. This year I have had three co-curators, Myriam Cyr, Nicole Ansari-Cox and Kamini Banga who have all brought very interesting projects to the table, making it an even richer mix this year. For instance, we have our youngest contributors this year with two plays – Honeytrap, and Who’d Love Lucy – written by women in their early 20s, and Sessions, by an experienced writer in her 80s  – and most ages in between. I’m very proud of the programme this year; it is full of fascinating work.

When audiences walk out after an event, what feeling or thought do you hope stays with them?

I think most artists want people to be moved, to feel, to think, to be emotionally involved, to be inspired. Women have voices that explore every aspect of human existence.

Do you see Women’s Voices evolving in a particular direction over the next few years?

I think the festival should speak to our time, our feelings, and our shared humanity. Those are the stories we want to tell, and we want people to recognise that women have something to say about absolutely everything – and always have. Women make up 50% of the population, yet are rarely given 50% of the opportunities, even in the arts, where there are many women performers but less equal representation among creators. We want to challenge that imbalance and continue to put women’s voices upfront and centre.

Women’s Voices: A Celebration runs from 8 – 31 March, with theatre, music, dance, comedy, and conversation. More info / booking at What’s On | The Playground Theatre

REVIEW: Francis Dunnery

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

“A messy, beautiful, and profoundly personal exploration of identity.”

On the final night of February at Riverside Studios, Francis Dunnery presented Tales of the Council House Kid, a production he warned might be the weirdest show the audience would ever see. He wasn’t exaggerating. This wasn’t a standard concert or a polished piece of musical theater; instead, it was a powerful, sprawling living memoir that felt like peering directly into the attic of Dunnery’s mind. 

The evening was a sweet, deeply nostalgic journey through the grit and humor of a Cumbrian childhood, blending the visceral reality of a working-class upbringing with the high-caliber musicianship for which Dunnery is celebrated.

The heart of the performance lay in its storytelling, which was peppered with moments of genuine comedy and relatable awkwardness. Dunnery captivated the room with vivid descriptions of the clumsy milestones of youth, most notably his hilarious retelling of trying to master the sophisticated art of kissing girls while simultaneously struggling to look cool smoking cigarettes behind the back of the school. 

These anecdotes were told with a raw, “warts-and-all” honesty that made the cavernous studio feel like a small living room. While the talking between the musical numbers was undeniably unpolished—occasionally veering into long-winded tangents—it was entirely forgivable. In fact, a slicker, more professional delivery might have robbed the show of its soul; the rough edges were an essential part of the “Council House Kid” character he was inhabiting.

Adding to the surreal atmosphere was a backdrop of random old TV adverts from decades past. These triggered a palpable wave of reminiscing among the crowd, sparking memories of a specific era of British culture. However, the integration of these clips felt a bit all over the place, lacking a clear chronological or thematic thread, which contributed to the “weirdness” Dunnery had promised. Yet, every time the narrative threatened to become too disjointed, the music would pull the room back together. The songs were very beautiful, serving as the emotional glue of the memoir. The vocal harmonies were absolutely on point, soaring through the theater with a precision that contrasted sharply with the chaotic storytelling.

Ultimately, Tales of the Council House Kid succeeded because it refused to be pigeonholed. It was a messy, beautiful, and profoundly personal exploration of identity. By the time the final notes faded, it was clear that the unpolished delivery and the erratic visuals were all part of the charm. It was a rare opportunity to see a master musician strip away the artifice of a traditional concert to reveal the vulnerable, funny, and talented human being underneath.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: The Toilet

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with The Toilet from Scots the Musical. Created by multi-award winning duo Noisemaker and featuring an ensemble cast, the hilarious, fast-paced Scots the Musical charges through Scotland’s past, present and future, its people and places, triumphs and failures, with a figure who has seen it all… the toilet!!

Scots the Musical tours Scotland from 4 March – 4 April.  – Tickets here

As the all-seeing toilet narrator of Scots: The Musical, what moment in Scotland’s  history surprised you most in shaping the nation we see today? 

TOILET: Well, this may sound biased but… the biggest surprise for me came in 1755  when Alexander Cummings (a Scottish watchmaker and mathematician) patented the first,  truly functional, mother-flushing TOILET! Up until then, the less said about Scotland’s  sanitation the better. But after auld Alex had the ingenuity to sculpt my pipes into an “S”  shape – everything about indoor plumbing changed forever! And for anyone who’s ever  endured a broken lavvy (and NOT had the luxury of “the flush”) they can attest just how  important this was for the homes and people of Scotland, and subsequently the rest of the  world! So aye, Alexander Cummings: The Father of the Flushing Toilet. My hero. 

Having witnessed centuries of triumphs and failures in Scotland, what pattern do  you think keeps repeating in how the country defines itself? 

TOILET: Scotland is many things. A place of beauty. Of ancient landscapes. Of myth  and legend. Of music and stories. Of chips, cheese and curry sauce. We’ve had some  remarkable folk through our history, and we’ve had some terrible arseholes (and believe me, I’ve seen them). But, for me, one thing remains constant through our intensely proud,  prolifically creative, endlessly reimagined, little nation’s journey: when then people of  Scotland stop bickering and moaning and being total knobs to one another – that is when  the good stuff happens.  

If you could preserve one everyday moment from Scotland’s past for future  generations, what would it be and why? 

TOILET: What a braw idea, lovely interviewer! Taking something from our past and  spamming it up on the wall like a photo of your Great Aunt Ida. Scotland’s past has  hunners of lessons for it’s future! Mary Sommerville, for example: a polymath and 19th  century scientific trailblazer. Mary can be credited for many things but, in my opinion, the  coolest was relegating the term “man of science” to the dustbin of history (up to that point,  anyone doing anything science-y was a man… apparently) and replacing with a whole new  word: “scientist”! That’s right, the first actual scientist anywhere, ever came fae Jedburgh.  So let’s stick that picture on the wall. A photo of Mary Sommerville. The very same one  you’ll find today on the back of our ten pound note. 

After observing revolutions both grand and absurd, what do you believe truly unites people across time in Scotland? 

TOILET: For the record: YOU said absurd, not me. (You are right, of course) D’you  know at the top of the Battle of Bannockburn, Robert the Bruce rode in on a teeny, tiny,  totesy pony? And then proceeded to spit in an “English skull” he held in his hand while  trotting along? Now I know that battle went on to be something of a significance for  Scotland, but holy cannoli! The man was AT IT! Yet he still fought. The same way that King  Kenneth McAlpin fought to pull together the Gaels and the Picts for the first time to form  the Kingdom of Alba. The same way Govan’s own Annie Gibbons fought in the 1960s to  have all of Glasgow tenements fitted with indoor loos. All of these people, all of these  stories, all of these battles: the thing that unites them all is… Scotland is an idea worth  fighting for. 

From your unique vantage point across history, how do humour and irreverence  help Scots confront their most serious challenges? 

TOILET: In this lowly latrines opinion, humour and irreverence don’t just help Scots  confront our challenges – they ARE how we confront our challenges.  Think about it. Even when faced with direst rack and ruin, the people of Scotland always  run a single question through their minds: “is it funny but?”. Our nations unique ability to  take things seriously by being wholly un–serious about them, remains our magic power.  From old Bruce on his wee pony right through to that Willy Wonka Experience – it is  through laughter; comedy; joking about it, that we strive on. Even in the darkest night when  it’s pishing down with rain and yer hair looks like a dug in a washing machine, Scots can  look for the light.  

As a witness to Scotland’s imagined future as well as its past, what gives you the  most hope about where the nation is heading? 

TOILET: Most people forget when they’re sat on me I see everything. And I mean  EVERYTHING. We are not a country that’s gotten everything right – not by a long shot.  From the Highland Clearances to the cancellation of River City: we’ve had our share of  deeply shameful history. Yet, we don’t let these mistakes linger. Scotland has no problem  in admitting we’ve f**ked it. We are a nation of retries and redos. Rectifying who we’ve  been into who we might become. This country went from being the only place in the UK to  still criminalise homosexuality, to being the first nation to legalise gay marriage and provide  free HIV medication through our NHS. That willingness to flush away some of the past to  make room for the future is what gives me hope. Scotland remains a country that wills and  strives and believes in the idea that it should be good here: for everyone. And I, lovely  interviewer, shall remain here to sit on as we keep working it out. Cheers for the chat. And remember to put the lid down when you’re done.  

REVIEW: Trip the Light Fantastic

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

An uplifting, delicate piece that moves the heart. Driven by gripping performances charged with sentiment, effortless humour, and piercing moments, the show unfolds like a waltz with each step echoing the push and pull of a cross-generational relationship.

Eager Freddie has been tasked with bringing reluctant Jack up to speed in a one-on-one ballroom dance class. Jack (John Peters) wants to woo his wife, hoping a smooth waltz might be the first step towards mending a strained marriage. He has lived Freddie’s lifetime three times over. Meanwhile, Freddie (Harvey William Brown) craves company, almost compulsively so, as if constant engagement might keep his scattered brain in line. With one of them stoic to the bone and the other wearing his heart permanently on his sleeve, their encounter feels like a recipe for either remedy or disaster.   

Written by Miriam Battye (Scenes with Girls, Strategic Love Play, Succession), Trip the Light Fantastic makes its London debut at OSO Theatre.  

This is an intimate production staged in a stripped-back stage with nothing but two chairs and a broom (ballroom dancers will know what this one is for). The show runs for 75 word-heavy minutes, with the drama unfolding entirely through conversation. And yet not a moment drags. Brown and Peters have such instinctive chemistry, and their characters’ contrasting personalities spark so vividly, that the relationship bubbles with wholeheartedness. 

There is something endearing about watching generations come together in theatre, both in the audience and onstage. In this delicate story of loneliness, love and intergenerational connection, Battye’s writing explores not only two wildly self-critical, borderline self-loathing men, but also the vastly different ways generations metabolise pain. She examines how cross-generational friendship might open up new ways of seeing −and understanding− both others and ourselves. Her words shift from plain and succinct to brutally raw. 

And when the cast take hold of her words, colouring them with their characters’ inner turmoil, their interaction shines with unreserved, technicoloured authenticity. Freddie operates with a has-a-feeling, says-a-feeling vulnerability, while Jack armours himself in stoicism and pulls on a tough exterior to keep emotion firmly corked. 

As they take tentative steps towards the waltz, they craft a bond so vivid that it carries the audience along on a rollercoaster with them. In their more throat-tightening arguments, the air in the room grows heavy until the disquiet simmering beneath erupts like lava. Yet they pivot seamlessly into softer, uplifting exchanges, offering flashes of warmth that feel genuine. 

Director Ella Straus handles the rhythm with great dexterity. She guides the audience through rapid-fire lines charged with sentiment, and allows long, weighted pauses to let the more piercing moments settle. Sound and lighting are minimal, adding subtle texture to the piece.

Brown and Peters give heartfelt performances. Brown as Freddie sets a quick tempo propelled by no-filter avalanches of words that reveal his inner disquiet. His Freddie is charming and loving, yet deeply self-conscious and fidgety. The frenzy is counterbalanced by Peters’ Jack and his stone-cold restraint. Jack recoils from connection, whether on the dancefloor or in life. “I just want to learn the steps. I’m not about this, centring myself. Loosening my aura,” he insists. His arc is the sharper of the two, and Peters delivers it with precision: it is not only his stiff knees that begin to loosen as he slowly learns how to “invite people in” (another one ballroom dancers will get), not just onto the dancefloor, but into his life. 

This is an uplifting, delicate piece that moves the heart. It doesn’t parade a sunny, feel-good friendship. Instead, it embraces the messy interplay between two radically different people with strikingly similar aches, both learning to navigate uncertainty in a world where happy outcomes are not guaranteed, but worth pursuing.  Trip the Light Fantastic runs at OSO Theatre, London, 26th February -1 March.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Claudio Macor

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We sat down for an exclusive interview with Claudio Macor, writer behind Savage. An extraordinary story, throwing a cold, harsh light on the horrors of conversion therapy.

This show runs until 15th March at White Bear Theatre – Tickets here

What drew you to the story of Carl Værnet, and how did you approach dramatizing such a dangerous ideology responsibly?

In May 2015 I came across an article by Peter Thatchell in the Guardian and my blood turned cold. I felt compelled to tell this unknown section of gay history.  Adapting Dr Vaernet story into a play I wanted to show the effects of the horror as well as the gruesome experiments. 

How intentionally did you shape Savage as a contemporary warning rather than a purely historical drama?

The very nature of the story is a warning in itself. It can happen at anytime again, in a different disguise but the same. With so many right wing governments around now removing gay rights, banning Pride, not recognising a gay couple with children as a family etc, my writing is a warning to us all.  

The idea that “nature presents truth, not choice” underpins the play—how is this challenged through Zack and Nikolai’s relationship?

The very fact that a love story is introduced into the story, a love story that survives was hugely important to to show we can survive and have survived any destructive force thrown our way. 

How did you balance historical accuracy with emotional impact when portraying trauma on stage?

The horror portrayed is accurate and the love story balances the audiences reaction to it 

With conversion therapy still legal in Britain, what questions do you most want audiences to leave the theatre asking?

No one, not a single person I’ve spoken to knew that gay conversion therapy is still legal in Britain, I want the audiences to be outraged to contact their councillors, MP’s, lawyers, KC’s whoever will listen to get this monstrosity repealed. Enough already !!! 

Do you see Savage as part of a broader effort to reclaim erased queer histories, and why is theatre the right medium for this story?

Theatre, film, TV whichever medium that tells gay history is vital to my work. My next step to turn SAVAGE into a movie but we all know how difficult that is, Gay history is very important to me, we must know what we went through to get us where we are today, and still a long way to go.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: Bethany Pitts

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We sat down with Bethany Pitts for a quick chat about her upcoming project, Loot. Tickets here: https://queens-theatre.co.uk/whatson/loot/

Loot is often described as a farce with teeth. How have you approached balancing its outrageous physical comedy with the darker satire at the heart of Orton’s writing? 

Farce with teeth is a good description. It’s not only light entertainment that Orton was pursuing, he wanted to skewer and expose institutions and our blind acceptance and ignorance about their power. It has to be played for truth – every absurd bit of physical comedy comes from a character pursuing something to the hilt. So in effect one drives the other – the extreme lengths the characters go to hide their true nature and actions places them in increasingly absurd, compromising positions which is where a lot of the comedy comes from. 

This play caused controversy when it premiered and feels newly relevant today. Which themes or moments in Loot do you think resonate most sharply with contemporary audiences?

In our ‘post-truth’ world, the blatant hypocrisy, police corruption and greed exposed in Loot hit home anew today. The character of Inspector Truscott was based on a corrupt Detective Sergeant at the time, and his complete disregard for the truth, and indeed the law, is breathtaking. Orton’s take on relationships is also quite radical – there are bi sexual, homosexual and even effectively polyamorous relationships in the play which feel very contemporary.

 As this is your first opportunity to direct on a mid-scale stage, how has working at Queen’s Theatre Hornchurch shaped your directorial choices and use of space?

The auditorium at Queen’s is a beautiful proscenium arch and is ideal for staging this kind of play. With the brilliant designer Zoe Hurwitz, we’ve created a box set that brings the action close to the audience while allowing the actors to be contained. In farce, it’s important that characters are caught up in the momentum of their actions, so we’ve tried to create a space that enables that. We’ve kept the original 60s setting but relocated it to the local area – QTH are passionate about their local audience and communities, so this felt like it aligned nicely.

Orton was fiercely political and deeply subversive. How have you honoured his anarchic spirit while making the production feel fresh rather than reverential?

Orton didn’t have much time for reverence, and I think being true to his spirit involves being true to every moment of the play, but in your own way. With the permission of the estate, we’ve altered some key elements of the text that didn’t feel right in our current context, always prioritising the original intention. Casting an exciting, diverse company of actors who are all bringing their own perspective to the room has also been key in keeping it fresh – I always want to work with actors who really interrogate what’s there and bring their own bold offerings to it, and this company are certainly doing that. 

Your background includes both new writing and reworking classical texts. What excites you most about directing Loot at this point in your career?

I believe in the maxim of treating every new play like a classic and every classic like a new play. What’s been particularly interesting about this process is that we’ve been working with some of the original uncensored material, so in that way it’s felt like dealing with a new play. It’s exciting to revive a play that feels like it’s got so much relevance for now, but that packs its political punch in a painfully funny way. 

Farce depends heavily on rhythm, precision, and trust between performers. How have you worked with the cast to build the timing and audacity needed to make Loot truly land?

The writing requires incredible precision, so we’ve investigated every beat together on the page and on its feet. His use of language and wordplay gives you so much of the character and intention, so you’ve got to really follow it. Play is also incredibly important – games have been a key part of rehearsals and have helped the performers bond, stay sharp and become a company. It’s essentially an ensemble piece, and it’s been important to create that sense of ensemble so the actors can keep it playful and alive throughout the run. 

REVIEW: Imitating the Dog: War of the Worlds

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Rating: 3 out of 5.

“An ambitious adaptation driven by technical brilliance”

Imitating the Dog is known for pushing multimedia boundaries and War of the Worlds takes this to new heights, using forced perspective, model worlds, camera tricks and projection with live and recorded content, blending the animate and the inanimate to create a modern take on the classic novel.

Four performers work together to deliver this technically brilliant production. Bonnie Baddoo, Morgan Bailey, Gareth Cassidy and Amy Dunn operate cameras live on stage while simultaneously performing, creating a constantly shifting theatrical language.. The sheer amount each cast member has to consider is almost unbelievable. Managing props and angles while sustaining character and narrative momentum requires extraordinary coordination and is a joy to witness. The level of detail and impact of each movement only emphasises the complexity of what is unfolding on stage. A particularly impressive sequence sees a miniature set transformed into a cinematic landscape in seconds, the performers’ movements perfectly timed to give the illusion of scale and devastation. The craftsmanship is undeniable.

Where the production falls slightly flat is the storyline. Inspired by the H.G. Wells novel and the 2005 film, the modern take follows Will Tavener navigating the UK while experiencing an apocalyptic disaster. Mechanical creatures reduce the living to ash, and after waking from a mysterious hospital incident, Will embarks on a journey of survival and self-discovery. The apocalyptic feeling that runs through rings true to the earlier material and attempts to bring modern-day issues to the surface. The message of destroyed homelands forcing people to the Channel feels like a symbolic comment on displacement and resilience, and is cleverly woven into the narrative.

What is challenging is the lack of emotional depth around certain characters and topical issues. Certain relationships, particularly that of the protagonist’s wife, feel underexplored, making it harder to invest in the human stakes of the story. It is possible that this emotional distance is intentional – a reflection of trauma and disorientation – but it leaves gaps that the visual spectacle cannot entirely fill. In contrast to the meticulous detail of the staging, the character development feels sparse.

That said, the ambition of this production is difficult to ignore. Even when the storytelling lacks depth, the theatrical innovation remains compelling. Those interested in seeing the backstage effort that goes into productions and who enjoy dystopian set worlds will certainly enjoy and ponder on this version of War of the Worlds. After a run at The Lowry, the production continues its tour across the UK until May 2026. Tickets are available here.

REVIEW: Gruesome Playground Injuries at Golden Goose

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Rating: 3.5 out of 5.

Love, scars, and thirty years of almost.

Rajiv Joseph’s Gruesome Playground Injuries traces the relationship between Doug and Kayleen across three decades, presenting their story through a series of encounters that unfold out of chronological order. Each reunion is marked by injury and these wounds become the recurring signposts of their connection. 

The  set comprises only two benches and two pillows, repositioned throughout to evoke different rooms. This restrained staging ensures that focus never drifts from the shifting dynamic between Doug and Kayleen. The continual rearranging of the benches becomes quietly symbolic – a subtle but constant reminder that while the environment may change, the emotional pattern between Doug and Kayleen persists.

Between each time lapse, the actors retrieve boxes bearing their names and change costumes onstage, accompanied by music. These interludes are more than practical adjustments as they provide clarity within the non-linear structure. The progression of clothing styles, alongside Doug’s accumulating visible injuries clearly signals the passage of time. Moreover, the physical energy between the actors during these transitions quietly establishes the tone of the forthcoming scene, allowing the audience to register shifts in maturity, distance or intimacy. As a result, despite the fragmented timeline, the narrative remains accessible and coherent. Under the direction of Alex Stroming, with movement direction by Tutu Ching, these transitions feel intentional and fluid, shaping the production’s rhythm and reinforcing the emotional continuity of the piece.

The injuries themselves serve as emotional meeting points. They offer justification for reconnection and expose the characters at their most unguarded. In these moments, their playful rapport is most apparent: the teasing, the provocation, the familiar rhythm of two people who know precisely how to unsettle and comfort one another. Yet beneath this playfulness lies an undercurrent of co-dependency, raising questions about whether their bond is rooted in genuine compatibility or shared damage.

Kristyna Havelkova brings a restrained intensity to Kayleen, charting her progression from wary child to emotionally guarded adult. Opposite her, Rudra Bharadwaj presents Doug with an enduring, almost reckless optimism that gradually reveals itself as both defense mechanism and self-destruction. Both actors transition convincingly across ages and their chemistry sustains the piece, lending credibility to a relationship that might otherwise risk feeling repetitive.

That repetition, however, is where the play invites some frustration. Structurally reminiscent of One Day, the narrative centres on two individuals who continually circle one another without fully committing. Over time, the cyclical pattern of missed timing and unresolved longing can feel exasperating. Because the audience witnesses only these concentrated reunion scenes, the relationship sometimes appears to exist solely within crisis. This raises a compelling but unsettling question: do Doug and Kayleen truly know one another beyond these heightened encounters, or are they sustained primarily by nostalgia and shared history?

The conclusion resists resolution, it offers no definitive reconciliation, no clear sense of arrival. While this lack of closure may leave some viewers dissatisfied, it remains consistent with the emotional logic of the piece.

Overall, this is a thoughtfully executed production. The stripped-back staging, carefully considered costume transitions and committed performances combine to create an engaging theatrical experience. Though the script occasionally verges on repetition and the central relationship can test one’s patience, the strength of the acting ensures that the emotional stakes remain compelling throughout.

Gruesome Playground Injures runs until Saturday 28th February at the Golden Goose Theatre, London. 

REVIEW: Dance Plague of 1518 at New Wimbledon Theatre

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

90 minutes of wonderful, historically (in)accurate chaos

A rousing applause welcomed an energetic foursome of Sam Trotman, Finn Tickel, Caoimhe de Brún and Harrison Macdonald-Taylor to the Studio stage at New Wimbledon Theatre on Friday night for the debut of this new musical, ‘The Dance Plague of 1518’. Writers Trotman and Tickel and director Alex Maxwell hope to see it soar at the Camden Fringe festival this Summer. I have no doubt it will do so. It was relentlessly witty, jam-packed with historical inaccuracy and completely stupid, in the most charming sense. It’s a 90 minute musical comedy, awkwardly aware of itself and fantastically meta. The opening: a GCSE-style performance piece, an overbearing director and then a single note sounds from the heavens. The chaos begins.

An empty set, save a single office chair upstage and temporary wings propped up for the endless costume changes, was home to a host of hilarious characters. Trotman excelled in his various roles, from camp and creepy high priest to village idiot (etc), he commanded the stage, captivated the audience and brought in the laughs with buckets of charisma. I particularly enjoyed his priest solo and many well-timed glances at the audience. He interacted excellently throughout the piece and I even felt they all could have capitalised more on the very reactive crowd. Both writers’ passion for this piece was clear throughout. Fellow writer Tickel’s character work was also brilliant, shifting costumes and accents galore. The two stars of the ‘play within the play’, de Brún and Macdonald-Taylor gave assured performances, vocally and comedically. De Brún took on a typical princess role and ran with it, bringing an energetic and joyful lightness, also taking on comedy side characters with skill. Macdonald-Taylor was endearing and cheeky, especially in musical numbers (I particularly enjoyed ‘Orgy In A Field!).

Songs were funny, musically impressive and cleverly placed. A variation of styles and genres helped the brilliantly pacy play flow smoothly. Pretty much every joke landed well, crammed with historical references and pop culture ‘Easter eggs’. The piece slightly lagged at the hour mark, losing some momentum as the denouement ensued. The first two thirds of the piece were explosive, with new characters emerging all the time; the challenge now is to continue this energy as we get to know the characters in depth. Perhaps some clearer and more precise movement direction could really help take this musical to the next level, adding consistent action to a wordy piece. Choreography was well-placed, but would shine with improved accuracy and a bit more magnitude.

Credit: Kinga Dulka

REVIEW: The Red Prince at Lion and Unicorn

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Rating: 4 out of 5.

Dark political satire: an impressive performance and piercing comedy 

The scene is set: a tired, messy, red rosette studded office, with a bottle of white wine sitting on the table, shortly to be opened. I hope it isn’t too warm. Regardless, the wine diminishes as the play progresses. Our Labour MP Craig Kitman (Benjamin May) appears, a relic of his party’s triumph following the 2024 Labour landslide victory. He has an anxiously furrowed brow, a slightly hollow expression and a sloppy tie. His outlook on life matches that of his tie – he is exhausted, both personally and professionally, leading to an alcohol abuse that explains why his tie isn’t neater.

The play is an hour-long monologue, and May doesn’t let up once. It is an absolute tour de force of a performance, with a wonderful mix of astute satire and moments of deep pathos. The writer Tim Dawson creates in Kitman an incisive portrait of a disillusioned MP without any firm convictions, born on a tide of initial optimism, who sinks when it becomes clear that he is lost in a political landscape without a dynamic center. There are some good one-liners about political ineptitude and the relationship between politicians and the press (Kitman amusingly compares the imagined response of different headlines of various news outlets to his bumbling and failures.) The play feels very in tune with the current political climate, down to the crafting of single arrow-like phrases.

May portrays Kitman’s identity crisis and latent self-loathing with nuance. He is both pitiable and at times unlikeable, with his lack of self-accountability and gestures towards misogyny as he fumbles through his associations with different women. He is also intensely lonely, following a divorce from his wife and a mounting disassociation from his work and purpose. The addition of incessant beeps and ringing from his phone, which Kitman at first ignores, is a keen creative choice from director Susan Nickson, creating an ambiance of increasing tension and anxiety. A less astute choice is the moments of blackout – they feel slightly random and detract from the sense of a relentless downward spiral as political scandal looms.

The satirical prowess of this play is without a doubt – but it felt that, like the political moment of the party it mirrors, it lacked a clear center. Kitman’s deep and tragic lack of connection to people or purpose goes beyond political satire and isn’t fully realized in the play. We see moments of vulnerability that hover on the edge of real confrontation of the human cost of the political system today, both for those within it and outside of it. That being said, the play delivers an hour of dark satire that will entertain and tease deeper questions.

For listing and info, please visit here.

Author: Tatiana Gilfillan