FEATURE: FOC IT UP!


A queer, raunchy, and unapologetically womanly night out — and a glimpse of something much bigger on the horizon


Suitable for ages 18+.

FOC IT UP! is the Femmes of Colo(u)r Comedy Club, a space with a guaranteed (thank goodness) no cis white men policy and a clear-eyed sense of purpose. Created and hosted by the brilliantly bold Kemah Bob (she/they) — a queer Black US comedian with infectious energy and an unwavering commitment to uplifting marginalised voices — FOC IT UP! is less a comedy night than a carefully held ecosystem. One that knows exactly who it’s for, and why it exists.

The January 14 show at Soho Theatre felt like both a celebration and a statement of intent. The line-up — Desiree Burch, Esther Manito, Ayoade Bamgboye, Alex Franklin, and Paulina Lenoir — was stacked with performers who don’t just command a room, but understand it. The audience skewed heavily towards women, non-binary, queer and gender non-conforming people, and across the night, all six performers took themes of womanhood, queerness, transness and Blackness and gleefully turned them up to eleven.

This is comedy that lands because it’s rooted in shared experience. Jokes about the agony of motherhood, the supposed “scheming” of trans people, or the messiness of desire weren’t just funny — they were freeing. Bob has built a space where people can laugh at themselves, laugh with each other, and feel held while doing it. That kind of safety doesn’t happen by accident; it’s curated, protected, and fiercely defended.

The diversity of the line-up extended far beyond identity alone. After Bob’s fabulous introduction, Esther Manito opened with a blisteringly funny set on the stresses of motherhood and the chaos of training for the London Marathon. Alex Franklin — a white-passing, half-Chinese trans woman — followed with a playful musical number about how “easy” it is to con lesbians into sleeping with her. Perfectly placed before Ayoade Bamgboye and Desiree Burch closed the night with classic, tightly honed stand-up, Paulina Lenoir delivered a mysterious, bawdy burlesque performance that had the room howling.

Lenoir and Bamgboye were the undeniable standouts. Their shock value, confidence and pitch-perfect timing drew the loudest laughs of the night. Soho has always been a place where people are encouraged to let it all hang out — sometimes literally — and these two took that invitation and sprinted with it. Bamgboye’s sudden, deadpan question to an audience member — “Were you born vaginally or by caesarean?” — is now lodged permanently in my brain. Love it.

What makes this night feel particularly exciting is the sense that it’s building towards something larger. Bob’s work with FOC IT UP! has always extended beyond the stage — into workshops, mentoring and career-shaping opportunities designed to economically and creatively empower women, trans, non-binary and queer comedians of colour. This spring, that vision expands into a full-day festival at Soho Theatre: a collision of industry panels, skills workshops and a comedy showcase that aims not just to spotlight talent, but to actively equip the next generation to thrive in an industry that remains overwhelmingly white and male.

If this January show was any indication, the energy, ambition and community behind that festival are already very much alive. FOC IT UP! isn’t simply a fabulous, deliciously adult night out — though it is that, too. It’s a reminder of what comedy can look like when marginalised voices aren’t treated as an afterthought, but as the beating heart of the room. These performers deserve to be uplifted the way Bob uplifts them: with care, confidence and an unshakeable belief in their brilliance. And if this night was just a taste, April is going to be something special.astic: deeply likeable, razor-sharp, and genuinely hilarious.

REVIEW: A Microscopic Odyssey


Rating: 4 out of 5.

An exceptional debut from the Mycelium Theatre Company


I hated science at school. For whatever reason, it was the one subject I could never get my head around. Subsequently, I was not sure what to expect going into A Microscopic Odyssey, which, as the title suggests, is a close up lens of our biological world. But even for someone who is historically STEM-averse, the Mycelium Theatre company’s debut show was nothing short of exceptional. 

The show is a visual marvel. The design, by Enza Kim, bolstered some of the most incredibly intricate, imaginative effects I have seen on stage in a while. In a description of the company, the programme highlights the company’s passion “to preserve theatrical craftsmanship and analogue technologies as we move deeper into a digital age” and the show lives up to this claim absolutely. Some spectacular visuals are made onstage using only a projector and some stencils to bring attention to the similarities between our small and large natural world. Its approach to this is sensitive, creating a genuine sense of the delicacies of biology. It helps that this was accompanied by some really well considered sound choices by sound designers and composers Caleb Wilton and Charlie Jones. The movement, directed by Bianca Mikhaïl, is visceral. It plays well with the more whimsical elements of the play, bringing us out of the more tender moments into something physical. It’s a good reminder that the body, too, is a part of the natural world. All these components make for a piece that almost reads like an adult-contemporary My Neighbour Totoro, handling its themes with a childlike wonder. 

At times, the show teetered on being too earnest for its own good, though these moments did overall feel well earnt. But moments of comedy, particularly during Weiss’s lecture, cut through this, giving the show balance, which it could do with a little more of. The plot takes a bit of a back seat, which is fine, especially considering its mosaic approach to exploring nature. Some storylines are never really explained, which isn’t necessarily needed, though some more callbacks to the show’s own narratives could help tie the piece together some more. Particularly, one that seemed to pertain to an abusive childhood felt a little underexplored and oversimplified. 

The ensemble, though, are the breath of life in this piece. Each one handles every second on stage with precision and care, down to their movement of objects off and on stage. There was always something to watch. Elijah Bai Bangura was a particular standout from the ensemble, showcasing a really dynamic performance. 

With a little tightening, this show has the capabilities to reach far and wide. A heavily detail oriented play, it’s well worth seeing in its current form anyway. If A Microscopic Odyssey is anything to go by, the Mycelium Theatre company are definitely one to watch. 

REVIEW: To Kill a Mockingbird


Rating: 5 out of 5.

“Messy and peaceful, as life has always been – but rarely shown so expertly on stage.”


Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, directed by Aaron Sorkin, has landed in The Lowry. The Pulitzer Prize winning novel many UK school children have and continue to study has been expertly adapted for the stage. Sorkin’s interpretation promises to offer a new perspective into the famed story, and expectations were surely met.

Set in the fictional town of Maycomb, Alabama, in the 1930s, To Kill a Mockingbird explores racial inequality in the Deep South. Through a rape case against cotton farmer Tom Robinson, the audience bears witness to the struggle and challenges of post-Civil War Southern USA. With many pockets of Maycomb’s community to explore, all of the characters come together to paint a picture of a society wrestling with difficult moral questions.

Traditionally told through the eyes of children, Sorkin’s representation of the novel shifts more focus to lawyer and father, and now protagonist Atticus Finch. This Atticus has a deeper level of conflict, allowing him to feel more relatable as he grows on stage and becomes authentically human, rather than the unwavering beacon of integrity many readers remember. Using the children as narrators alongside the unfolding of events, rather than adults recounting the story, shifts the perspective from the children being observers to being actively involved, adding further depth to the piece. Fans of the novel need not worry – the story feels enriched rather than diminished by this interpretation.

Sorkin’s script invites audiences to sit in discomfort. The brutal use of language, the exposure of extremist groups, and the disgust of this fictional yet uncomfortably recognisable humanity are juxtaposed against the morality of the few, the gentle teachings of acceptance, and the importance of reflection. It is messy and peaceful, as life has always been, but rarely demonstrated so expertly on stage.

Much of this success is down to the incredible talent across the cast. John J. O’Hagan’s Atticus is a pleasure to witness, effortlessly carrying the weight of such a well-loved character while allowing us to see his growth in this new light. Andrea Davy’s Calpurnia is a delight. With so much of her emotion conveyed without words for much of the play, her ability to create tension is remarkable. Anna Munden’s Scout, Gabriel Scott’s Jem and Dylan Malyn’s Dill all bring the vibrancy hoped for in these characters, often providing gentle comedic relief while also conveying the story’s heavier emotions. Other standout performances include James Mitchell’s Link Deas, whose key scene lingers long after the curtain falls, and Evie Hargreaves’s Mayella Ewell, whose time on the stand is a masterclass in unsettlement.

Miriam Buether’s set allows the stage to be transformed in a clever yet immersive way. Seeing principal actors involved in the transition of scenes subtly reinforces the theme of equality in a quietly effective manner. Ann Roth’s costumes further ground the audience in the period, reminding us of the narrators’ youth even as the maturity of the story remains unquestionable.

To Kill a Mockingbird has rightly earned its accolades over the last 66 years. Sorkin’s interpretation is a joy to witness, from the incisive writing to the remarkable performances, and it is well worth revisiting – or being introduced to – this powerful story. To Kill a Mockingbird runs at The Lowry until 24th January, tickets are available here.

REVIEW: The Sound of Music


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A well executed and heartfelt revival, OXOPS captures the pure nostalgia and
vocal excellence of this beloved stage classic.


Oxford Operatic Society’s production of The Sound of Music at the New Theatre Oxford offers a polished and warmly received revival of Rodgers and Hammerstein’s classic musical. Traditional in its approach and clearly crafted with care, the production showcases a strong cast across generations and delivers a crowd-pleasing evening that honours the enduring appeal of the original stage and screen versions.

Set in Austria on the brink of political upheaval, The Sound of Music follows Maria, a young postulant whose free-spirited nature sets her apart from convent life, and her subsequent role as governess to the seven children of the widowed Captain von Trapp. As music and affection return to the household, the story unfolds into one of love, resistance, and moral courage in the face of rising Nazism. OXOPS’ production remains faithful to this familiar narrative, allowing its themes of family and integrity to speak clearly without modern reinterpretation.

At the centre of the production is a vibrant performance from Emily Booth as Maria. Booth captures the character’s exuberant optimism with confidence, sustaining Maria’s infectious energy throughout the show. Her vocals are consistently strong, lending warmth and clarity to well-known numbers and grounding Maria as both spirited and sincere. This assured portrayal provides the emotional backbone of the production.

A particular highlight comes from Sarah Leatherbarrow as Mother Abbess. Her performance of Climb Ev’ry Mountain stands out as one of the evening’s most effective moments, delivered with vocal strength and emotional control that held the audience’s attention. The sustained silence that followed spoke to the impact of the performance, before appreciative applause filled the auditorium.

Andy Blagrove offers a convincing Captain von Trapp, successfully charting the character’s journey from emotional restraint to openness. His interactions with the von Trapp children are especially effective, reinforcing the production’s emphasis on family unity. While certain intimate moments, most notably the dance between Maria and the Captain, were somewhat undermined by a visually crowded stage, Blagrove’s performance remained steady and credible throughout.

The von Trapp children themselves deserve praise, delivering strong vocals and engaging performances that brought charm and humour to the production. Their energy contributed significantly to the show’s warmth, and the ensemble work across the cast was cohesive and well-balanced.

Overall, this Sound of Music is an accomplished and affectionate production that understands the appeal of its source material. With weekend matinees already sold out and many standing ovations at the curtain call, this production demonstrates OXOPS’ ability to deliver a confident and well-crafted musical.

REVIEW: Varna International Ballet – The Nutcracker


Rating: 4 out of 5.

“Varna International Ballet delivers a classic tale which brings audiences tradition, hope and the magic of storytelling”


The Varna National Ballet’s production of The Nutcracker delivered a beautiful interpretation of this Christmas classic. It had a familiar feel of festive magic that draws audiences in each year. From the moment the lights dimmed and the familiar music of Tchaikovsky filled the room, the anticipation was electric, reminding me why these productions are so popular among families and ballet fans alike.

From the start, the company moved with effortless grace across the stage. Their visual expressions brought the characters to life, and the corps de ballet delivered a performance that was confident and cohesive. Their movements were flawless as they danced across the stage with an elegance that you know comes from years of practiced discipline and trust amongst the dancers. The individual soloists brought their own artistry and interpretation to the characters, as they led the audience on a journey of wonder and discovery that can only be imagined in our dreams. 

Pauline Faget was particularly enchanting as Marie, taking the audience into her dream world and leading them through this captivating tale of wonder and mystery. Her Pas de Deux with the Prince (Danylo Motkov) was elegant and a beautiful sight to see. Their chemistry was effortless and their movements and power show why they were chosen to play these characters.

Visually, the production leaned into tradition whilst also having a more modern feel to it with the scenes being changed by a visual display at the back of the stage. It meant the changes were effortless and did not need huge set pieces to tell the story. It is different from other Nutcracker productions in this sense, as I have not seen one that has used this way of scene setting before. It did not take anything away from the production, and was hardly noticeable with all the dancing going on right across the stage. 

The costumes were so detailed and vibrant, they really made the production lifelike. It was easy to tell what characters and themes were going on in each scene. From the Fairytale about Hard Nut, to Marie’s dream in the Nutcracker’s world, that included dances from different countries, the costumes really played a huge part in adding personality to each scene, without taking away from the choreography.

Tchaikovsky’s iconic score filled the room with familiarity and a richness that added to the warmth of the production. It brought an emotional depth that helped to carry the story forward, from the quiet, more delicate moments to the sweeping score of the more dramatic scenes, the room was filled with an energy only Tchaikovsky’s brilliance could bring. Conducted by Azat Maksutov, the orchestra worked together to add balance and harmony to create poignant peaks that make The Nutcracker feel so timeless.

Overall, this was a heartfelt interpretation of the traditional Nutcracker story that delivered exactly what people need; hope, imagination and a little bit of magic. Through strong work from the corps de ballet and the soloists, this ballet brought a beautiful, familiar story to life that brings people together and gives audiences an enjoyable evening that they will remember for a long time after the curtain falls.

IN CONVERSATION WITH: The team of Ghost Grandma

We sat down with Anamika Srivastava (co-writer/actor), Arista Abbabatulla (director) and Pallavi Kumar (co-writer), to speak about their new show Ghost Grandma. The work is a comedy that paints an authentic portrait of South Asian culture and intergenerational familial relationships.

TICKETS: https://www.unrestrictedview.co.uk/events/ghost-grandma/ 

Ghost Grandma has been described as a portrait of South Asian culture, memory, relationships and the ties between generations. What inspired you to bring it to the stage?

    In the UK, South Asian culture is often known for its food and places, but the way people actually live is frequently misunderstood. We wanted to bring these authentic experiences to the stage. We love working with comedy and were drawn to something in South Asian culture that holds high stakes and drama, turning it into a source of humor. That’s how we landed on property, something people literally fight over in South Asia. Another aspect we wanted to explore is the care and importance given to material possessions. Immigrants protect these not for their monetary value but for the stories they hold, the memories they carry, and the hard work they represent. These small details reflect both culture and humanity, connecting the audience to something universal.

    Comedy plays an important role in the piece. How does humour help you — and the audience access moments that might otherwise feel too painful or heavy?

    Humour is a powerful way to open conversations that might otherwise feel too painful or intimidating. In Ghost Grandma, comedy draws the audience in and helps them feel at ease. Once their emotional guard is lowered, the play gently surprises them with deeper questions about relationships, loss, and letting go. In many South Asian cultures, death is not seen solely as an ending but also as a transition or a new beginning. Mourning exists alongside warmth, memory, and even laughter, and that sensibility shapes the tone of the play. Using humour allows the audience to engage with themes of grief, loneliness, and mortality without feeling overwhelmed. Rather than asking people to brace themselves, the play invites them to find moments of light within the dark.

      You’re trained in both contemporary theatre and ancient Indian dramaturgy. Did those traditions influence how you approached this role as actor/writer?

        Anamika, founder of Indunatyasabha and co-writer who also plays Dee in Ghost, Grandma, brings this world to life in both roles. She experiences the script in two very different ways. As a writer, she focuses on the rhythm, pauses, and emotional flow, discovering the heart of each moment. As an actor, she draws from her training in the Natyashastra and its eight Rasas to navigate Dee’s emotional highs and lows from within, while contemporary naturalism keeps her grounded and present in every interaction. An old story she read as a child about an elderly woman quietly eating leftovers after a wedding while her granddaughter watched has stayed with her ever since. Small details, like Dee eating “Pinni”, grew naturally from that blend of theory and lived experience, shaped alongside co-writer Pallavi’s own memories.

        This project is part of InduNatyasaba, which is rooted in building community through storytelling. How does that sense of purpose shape the way you work?

            South Asian actors tend to be the only one in a production, so it is special to work on a piece that champions South Asian creatives as a community. From the first rehearsal, it was clear that the show brings out authentic, relatable, lived South Asian experiences that we can all see a bit of ourselves in. This allows actors to bring authentic parts of their identity to the creative process as we analyse the text. We also celebrate strong female characters with a majority female cast and crew. At the same time, show invites audiences from all communities and backgrounds to look beyond stereotypes and see that, at the end of the day, our differences can be celebrated, and in some ways we are not so different after all.

          What kinds of reactions or conversations are you hoping audiences will have after the show?

            If someone in the audience leaves the theatre and calls their mum, grandmother, or a loved one, we’ll call it a success. Ghost, Grandma explores empathy as a bridge across generations, showing both the joys and challenges of connecting with family. We hope audiences leave inspired to nurture the important relationships in their lives and to recognise the fleeting, precious nature of time. The play also explores found family, with characters creating love and support through the people around them. At the same time, it champions authentic South Asian stories, offering a glimpse into lived experiences rarely seen in UK theatre. We invite audiences to not only enjoy the story but also to follow and support our ongoing journey as a company bringing these voices to the stage.

            REVIEW: NT Live’s Hamlet


            Rating: 3 out of 5.

            NT Live’s latest stream brings us an energetic but imbalanced Hamlet


            Hamlet, by title alone, brings an expectation to the mind. Melodramatic twists, the poetic verse we had to learn by rote in secondary school, and a master at the helm in the title role. To bag Hamlet is to fight with the heavyweights. In Autumn of 2025 the challenge lay in the hands of Hiran Abeysekera, an emerging darling of the West End. What set his challenge apart wasn’t just convincing the audiences of the Lyttelton Theatre night after night, but also audiences in cinemas across Britain. His now immortalised Hamlet will beam to audiences through NT Live.

            The production, directed by Robert Hastie, does away with Elizabethan stuffiness. We instead find ourselves in the flash ballroom of a modern, Uniqlo-wearing Danish monarchy, darkened by an emo prince with black nail polish. Abeysekera, an actor full of vitality, adopts a sort of fleabaggy persona in his Hamlet. The slings and woes he’s subjected to often goad a flash of his wide eyes to the crowd. At first we’re in on the joke, but with time we’re complicit to his downfall, the vacant space he fixates on. 

            Hamlet isn’t the easiest role to pull off, few are able to grapple with the volatility of the melancholic prince. His frequent insults and outbursts, followed by hushed soliloquies require a certain pliability and athleticism which Abeysekara has in spades. His energy, however, is sometimes his downfall. There’s little time to contemplate and breathe, the line between sanity and lucidity (under Hastie’s direction) becomes, on occasion, burdened by the blur. Accordingly, Abeysekera’s prince swings through emotions like there’s no tomorrow. It’s impressive, but never really lets us peek beneath the interior. 

            He meets his match in a spitfire Ophelia played by Francesca Mills. She churns about the stage with a giddy propulsion, chomping at the bit to be rid of the mores and expectations of the court. Ayesha Dharker is equally dynamic as Queen Gertrude, unafraid to tear into her boy when he’s out of order — he’s definitely his mother’s son. Part of Hamlet’s strength relies on the tension in court, but the imbalance of humours at play dampens the action. Alistair Petrie’s Claudius only gives us glimpses of his villainy while Tessa Wong, who makes a strong start, ends up an increasingly directionless Horatio.

            It’s hard to fault the performers when it feels like there is a misunderstanding of the intention of the text. Hamlet, though melodramatic and soapy, isn’t a laugh-a-minute riot. At times it feels that Hastie doesn’t fully grasp what tone or emotion he is trying to express in this production. The frequent beats to the audience and quirky stage directions serve only to dilute the action, and the action, when actually permitted to run its course, is compelling. There are some light-hearted highlights: Joe Bolland is himbo perfection as an especially preppy Guildenstern, and there’s a glorious send up of Jamie Lloyd and Ivo Van Hove in the iconic play-within-a-play.

            All that being said, the production really works on screen. Ben Stones’ set serves almost like a sound stage, giving us an ample view of all the action. We really do get a front-row view of each of Hiran Abeysekera’s subtleties, each discerning brow or teary gaze. The Danish prince within touching distance. 

            Hamlet will be released in cinemas on 22 January 2026 and audiences can find their nearest screening at NTLive.com

            IN CONVERSATION WITH: Niall Ashdown

            We sat down with Niall Ashdown to talk about his new play Five Pianos, playing at Jack Studio Theatre from February 5 – 7. Featuring original songs, Five Pianos is a funny, intimate and honest story of piano as lover, as liability, as lifesaver. Tickets here.


            You swore off the piano at nine, yet it keeps reappearing in your life. What is it about this instrument that refuses to let you go, and at what point did resistance turn into affection?

            I’ve always loved the look of pianos – the fact that they are stately bits of solid furniture even if they just glower silently in the corner of the room. But obviously it’s the noise they make that draws me in. I think my resistance became affection from the moment I realised I didn’t need to play written music, I could make up my own; that a chord progression might be sufficient for me to derive pleasure from it. I still can’t really read music, which means that while I don’t think I’m a musician, I can play the piano. 


            Five Pianos treats the piano almost as a living presence: lover, burden, lifeline. When did you realise you weren’t writing about music, but about relationships, memory, and survival?

            I’m not sure that became clear until I tried to put this show together! All the songs in it reflect particular moments (and particular pianos) – and assembling them has made the importance of the instrument so much more pertinent. It is a familiar place to return to, somehow. Homely. 

            I would add that it is also a wonderful way to procrastinate. I’ve wasted a lot of time noodling away on various keyboards, so maybe this is an attempt to pretend that all that noodling was in service of making this show. 

            You’re known for improvisation and comedy, but this piece sounds intimate and quietly revealing. How did your background in improvisation shape the honesty of this show, and where did you have to let go of jokes to let something more vulnerable surface?

            I have worked in improvised comedy for as long as I’ve been working. It’s a wonderful way to scrape a living. The seminal show I worked on was Improbable’s Lifegame. It’s part interview and part improvised show. A guest gets asked questions and a cast attempts to dramatise what we hear in a playful way, using music, theatrical styles, puppets, and various other approaches. There’s a genuine attempt to recreate the sense of whatever moments are described: and to do this without taking the piss or being too po-faced. Lifegame is a wonderful reminder of the commonalities of human experiences, and it’s made me realise that sharing my own stories doesn’t need to be indulgent to resonate with an audience. We’ve all, at some time or other, been there. 

            Letting go of jokes isn’t too difficult to do. I try to stay light and playful even if there are moments where the story requires honesty,  authenticity and a degree of gravity. 


            The piano is often romanticised, but here it’s also flawed, damaged, even uncomfortable. Was it important for you to resist nostalgia and show the instrument as something complicated rather than sacred?

            Five Pianos is full of reminiscences, but I hope they’re unsentimentally told. I think a piano has always been a companion for me, a pragmatic friend I can talk things through with. Sometimes I over-complicate these conversations when often, as with even the most involved bits of creativity, what I’m striving for is simplicity and clarity, and to trust that that’s enough. 


            This is your first solo stage project in some time. What did working alone allow you to explore that collaborative work perhaps doesn’t—and what did you miss about having others in the room?

            Although this is nominally a solo show, I have emotionally-blackmailed trusted colleagues into helping me shape it. They’ve been brilliant and share a love and facility for improvisation. It means we can write as we go, and that we’re at ease with things not working. Of course once they’re gone, there’s the practice of just keeping running it through, and no one to kick my arse if that’s not happening. And I’m always having new thoughts, and the joy of discovering a spark of something silly or splendid with someone else is irreplaceable. The best work I’ve done has always involved a genuine sense of collaboration and fun and joy. 

            The show seems to suggest that we all have a “piano” in our lives—something we leave, return to, resent, and need. What do you hope audiences recognise about themselves by the time they leave the theatre?

            A previous show I did – Hungarian Bird Festival – was the tale of a week’s birdwatching with my Dad. The central theme was a love of birds, and audiences recognised a similar obsessiveness in themselves or their parents – but in their case it was collecting guitars, or old books, or album covers or whatever. 

            In Five Pianos, the audience have laughed, wept a little (but in a good way), and I think recognised their own frailties, inhibitions and sillinesses as I’ve shared mine. 

            REVIEW: Strategic Love Play


            Rating: 4 out of 5.

            A fork-tongued powerhouse of a duologue, delivered and directed with quality and authenticity


            The award-winning acting promised in the LAMDA programme set high expectations for Purāna Productions’ interpretation of this intense two hander which were certainly met, coupled with direction that is equal parts dynamic and delicate. Semi-cabaret style seating creates an intimate atmosphere, letting audiences into the world of an ‘ordinary’ young couple on a blind pub date as they unfurl more than just the customary conversation, one round at a time.  

            The couple play us in at opposite ends of the space, getting date ready to his and hers hype music in front of their respective mirrors, each in their own separate bubbles soon to collide. The action is set about a small table adorned with the customary tired table flower, low-lit lamp and miniature reservation chalkboard. The stage is trimmed with audience tables dressed identically, implying we share the same space and time as the couple. This said, the sound choices questioned this at times, with low level pub chatter or music rising at points and silence at others. The in-the-round layout is deftly navigated with the actors seamlessly adjusting their position from within the story. They organically revolve about the centre point of the action, skilfully providing the audience with all possible perspectives and sightlines to this multifaceted conversation. 

            The opening nervous sipping of pints punctuates the playful awkwardness of the dialogue in a ‘Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf’-esque dog fight conversation, biting as it is entertaining. Dhruv Ravi’s direction artfully walks the line of laboured exchanges and sharp jabs of insults and comedy drawn by Battye’s edgy writing.  

            As the conversation lurches from one topic to another, both Amber Grappy and Emmanuel Olusanya guide the audience with uncanny relatability and authenticity. Olusanya is brilliant vocally with beautiful expressions where his face tells the story in moments of silence. Grappy, in her turn as WOMAN, has impressively intense focus and presence which injects the role with the manic and magnetic power it asks for. Both share an emotional range and vulnerability that is magical when they come together. They melt into conversation moving, revolving but somehow maintaining focus; we feel their tension, their giddiness and their despair as together they work to skilfully control the emotional temperature of the room with artistry both in the spoken and unspoken moments. 

            The actors in turn exit to an offstage bar to buy their round of beers, returning with two new glasses of emotional and intellectual territory. They talk around the future, the past, the present moment and everything in between without wasting an inch of the space. They gravitate around the table, conversing over and under it; battling, retreating and bouncing off each other with a magnetic electricity that draws them ever closer to each other and the unidentified something which calls them stay the duration of the play. Ravi’s dynamic use of proxemics cleverly mirrors the play’s emotional push and pull, though practically where this takes them within the pub setting lost me at times and calls into question whether we are still in the same world as the characters, or if they have lost us and themselves in a world, indeed, of their own. 

            As tension builds, momentum gathers and snaps just as quickly, spiralling to a conclusion which can only be seen with bated breath. Don’t miss this high-quality execution of a sharply written modern romance. 

            REVIEW: Rocky Horror Picture Show


            Rating: 5 out of 5.

            Fast, Filthy and Full of Fun

            The Rocky Horror Show has returned to the Edinburgh Playhouse, and what an absolute blast. This production brings Richard O’Brien’s cult classic to life with infectious energy, outrageous fun and a cast who clearly understand exactly what this show is meant to be.

            Leading the charge is Jason Donovan as Dr Frank N Furter, delivering camp, charisma and theatrical flair in abundance. His wig is, admittedly, a little distracting. Rocky Horror has always revelled in a slightly grotesque lack of polish, but there were moments where one wondered if a swift head turn might send it flying into the audience, given how far back it sat. Still, it somehow feels oddly fitting for a show that thrives on excess and imperfection. Wigs aside, Donovan is a true master in six-inch heels, bringing sex-appeal and utter hilarity to the role in a way few could challenge.

            Another standout of the evening is Jackie Clune as the Narrator, who is exceptional throughout. Her timing is razor sharp, and she handles audience heckles with quick wit and deliciously sassy comebacks, making every interaction feel spontaneous and alive. The rest of the cast are clearly having a fantastic time, with strong performances across the board from James Bisp as Brad, Haley Flaherty as Janet, Ryan Carter-Wilson as Riff Raff, Laura Bird as Magenta and the Usherette, Daisy Steere as Columbia, and Morgan Jackson as Rocky, who cuts an imposing and entertaining figure as Frank’s muscle-bound creation.

            The costumes are a little uninspired at times, but this is not a show that needs the polish or spectacle we expect of other large-scale musical theatre production. Rocky Horror works best when it feels a bit scrappy and rough around the edges, and that ethos runs through this production in a way that feels intentional rather than undercooked.

            As ever, the show’s cult-like following is very much part of the experience. Audience members are encouraged to dress up, and many do, some more outrageously than others. The call-and-response interaction is great fun, particularly thanks to the Narrator, but it does occasionally highlight a familiar issue. Not everyone knows when or what to shout, meaning a handful of voices tend to dominate. For those seated further back, it can feel slightly excluding to hear a sharp comeback without catching the original heckle, followed by laughter you are momentarily out of the loop on. There is no real solution to this without spoiling the magic, and perhaps that is part of earning your stripes as a true Transylvanian.

            One of the more surprising elements is the show’s length. It is exceptionally short. While many of the cuts made in the transition from screen to stage help with pacing, there are moments where it feels like a snip too far. Rocky virgins could be forgiven for feeling a little lost, as the plot races along at such a clip that if you blink, you might miss something. That said, this is not a show of deep, thoughtful twists. It is an off-the-wall assault on the senses, and it succeeds brilliantly at surprising and delighting.

            The one area where more time would have been welcome is in Rocky’s development. Unlike the film, there is little opportunity to see him grow into his existence, arriving fully formed and bursting with energy. This is not a fault of the performer or the direction, but simply a consequence of a production that packs every second with innuendo, hilarity, gyration and whimsy.

            In the end, this production delivers exactly what it promises. It is loud, silly, cheeky and gloriously unapologetic. If you love Rocky Horror, you will leave grinning. If you are new to it, go with an open mind and a willingness to be swept along.

            Fishnets optional. Fun guaranteed.