Reviews

“ Thoroughly enjoyable and expertly performed. An excellent choice for a night at the theatre for both Oscar Wilde enthusiasts and strangers, alike.” ★★★★ It’s difficult to walk out of The Importance of Being Oscar , now on at Park Theatre, unimpressed with Oscar Wilde’s biting wit and avant garde approach to life. It’s impossible to leave without being blown away by Alastair Whatley’s performance. The success of the one-man show rests squarely on his shoulders. It is, after all, 110-minutes of him speaking directly to his audience, sans set piece or props aside from a single green carnation. Fortunately, Whatley lives up to the challenge. His command of the stage is only elevated by excellent direction from Michael Fentiman. 110 minutes, including a 20 minute intermission, is an awkward run-time. The book itself runs closer to 90 minutes, making the intermission arguably superfluous, but the density of the script does demand time for processing and reflection. The Importance of Being Oscar premiered in Dublin in 1960, sixty years after Wilde’s death. The play tells the true story of Oscar Wilde’s life, particularly the later years in which he stood trial and eventually served two years in prison on charges of indecent conduct. The Park Theatre programme provides useful context including a timeline of Wilde’s life, and notes on the significance of The Importance of Being Oscar including the fact that Micheál Mac Liammói wrote it thirty years before the decriminalisation of gay sex in both his and Wildes’ home country of Ireland. Although The Importance of Being Oscar does not purport to live up to journalistic standards, its authenticity is evidenced by its use of countless primary source texts. Entire excerpts from Wilde’s plays are included, using his dialogue as an extension of his interiority. Liammóir also uses verbatim testimony from letters, journal entries, and court transcripts, invoking Wilde’s words and the words of those who knew him best to paint a picture of the man behind The Picture of Dorian Gray. The lead performer in The Importance of Being Oscar - in this case Whatley - narrates the story of Wilde’s life to the audience, shattering the fourth wall. The performer also assumes the rotating roles of Wilde, his characters, and the real friends and acquaintances from his life. Whatley has no difficulty assuming this range of characters, dropping in and out with ease. His characterisations are subtle, but precise and distinct. His talent mitigates the risk of audience difficulty following the large cast of characters in Wilde’s life. Whatley’s ability to captivate his audience also goes a long way in holding attention through certain longer passages, especially right at the end. The play’s humour is a great strength. Despite its darkness, it never stops being funny thanks to Wilde’s witty words and Whatley’s comedic timing. The Importance of Being Oscar chronicles the known events of Wilde’s life, while leaning on its playwright’s imagination. Surprisingly, the play’s particular thesis remains unclear, despite the strength of the piece. Yes, Liammóir references Wilde’s sexuality, but his script is more interested in exploring Wilde’s relationship with beauty, youth, hedonism, and adoration. Liammóir’s ultimate take on these ideas is less clear. The concept of artists as reflections of their time is part of Wilde’s story, as is the changing kaleidoscope of political context throughout history that transformed Wilde's public reception throughout his lifetime and across his legacy. But the play’s ultimate perspective on these themes, particularly the idea of life spent in pursuit of pleasure, never quite comes through. Nonetheless, The Importance of Being Oscar is thoroughly enjoyable and expertly performed. It’s an excellent choice for a night at the theatre for both Oscar Wilde enthusiasts and strangers, alike. It assumes no prerequisite knowledge; Fentiman and Whatley are confident in their ability to take their audience on a clear and engaging journey. As they should be. The Importance of Being Oscar is on at Park Theatre through 22 August. Information and tickets are available at https://parktheatre.co.uk/events/the-importance-of-being-oscar/ . Photography: Marc Brenner

“It is honest, it is funny, and it is kind.” ★★★★ This must and will begin with praise for the writing. In Book Club, writer/director Kate Bromage has achieved something remarkable, all from following four (sometimes five) near-misfits as they meet with the noble goal of studying prose. That being said, this is not really about the books, with history’s literary greats used principally as a vehicle for chat, booze and themed snackery. But as we trundle after the gang through a series of seasonal vignettes, we realise that this show is far more than the sum of its parts. Bromage gives us beautifully realised characters whose flaws and quiet tragedies are ably revealed alongside moments of brilliant humour. The performances don’t exactly hurt. Joanna Dodd is brilliant as Generalissimo of Organised Fun Linda, who priggishly attempts to mould the group in her image. Nitpicky and obsessed with procedure, Linda is a reminder that in every Brit lurks the heart of a County Councillor. But she is far more than a pastiche and Dodd excels in carefully bringing out the doubt and loneliness that have made Linda who she is. She finds her foil in fellow PTA Lieutenant Gemma, played by a wickedly funny Ailsa Wright, whose consistent goal throughout is to resist Linda’s suburban autocracy. Wright too, is comfortable with playing to depth, and far outstrips comic relief status, as she slowly uncovers Gemma’s vulnerabilities and carefully held dreams, hidden behind the laughs. She truly sees the club for what it is, an opportunity for friendship and togetherness and Wright and Dodd sparkle in their alternate knife plunging. But even in this most fractious of the play’s relationships, we sense a deep friendship and need for one another. The inclusion of teacher, James (a superb Joe Waterfield) whose job earns Linda’s toadying, cements this feeling. Waterfield is a magnetic presence on stage and a driving force behind the ultimate closeness of the characters. Resisting Linda’s attempts to play resident intellectual, he neatly showcases the genuine joy felt in finding and nurturing new friendships. A perfect choice. For the previews at Bread and Roses Theatre, there is a slight amendment to cast, and Bromage herself stands in as just-happy-to-be-there devoted “dog mum” Susan. The show does not suffer, for she is marvellous. Naïve and most easily cowed by Linda, Susan offers plenty of opportunities for laughs but Bromage (while her timing is impeccable) does far more than that, making the character stunningly real. And then, Colin Sheehan as Linda’s poor, energetically sidelined husband Bob. Despite relatively little stage time and few lines, Sheehan’s performance is nuanced and memorable. Affably rictus grin in place, Sheehan shines as perhaps the club’s only true (albeit quiet) bibliophile, doomed to scurry between what he wants and what Linda demands. To those born in the Cameron years, this is the definition of a Golden Retriever Boyfriend. He offers a powerful humanity to proceedings, and his and Linda’s relationship, initially played for laughs, gives way to a meaningful partnership. As Linda’s own quiet insecurities are revealed, this relentless, supportive love is deeply affecting. Altogether, the chemistry between the actors is remarkable and Bromage’s direction must be praised. This is undoubtedly a comedy and there are plenty of genuine laughs but in Book Club, the cast have conjured something deeper. The characters are real, their vulnerabilities defined, somehow only enhanced by the gentleness of the premise. Despite the difference in form, this reviewer could not shake a reminiscence of Mackenzie Crook’s Detectorists . Not just the comparative hobbyism but a peculiar Britishness, a love for place, and the beauty of basic friendship. There was the odd dropped note but nothing that couldn’t be ironed out in the journey up the A1. This show is built for Edinburgh and truly deserves every success. It is honest, it is funny, and it is kind. To Auld Reekie then. BOOK CLUB at Edinburgh Fringe 17 – 22 August 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/book-club Written and directed by Kate Bromage Cast: Ailsa Wright, Colin Sheehan, Joanna Dodd, Joe Waterfield and Kate Bromage Photography: Michael Johnstone

‘like a murmuration of starlings, thousands of pieces of their body move in a smooth, fluid motion’ ★★★★★ Hofesh Shechter’s IN THE BRAIN, was first performed in 2022 in New York, part of a showcase of work honouring Martha Graham’s legacy in the evolution of contemporary dance. Inspired by techno club scene and raves, the auditorium has an appropriately smoky lighting effect. When the curtain open, this is continued on stage. The lights are dim and eight dancers are swirling and writhing around, over and under each other, low to the ground. The effect is something like a primordial soup, but there is something special about the movement of the bodies. Right from the first, Hofesh Shechter’s style of dance is visible. There is a boneless quality and a very low centre of weight to the dancers, who appear to have stones low in their bodies, grounding and weighing them down. It has a freeing quality, a relaxation which allows for dynamic movement, especially in the arms and hands. Each of Shechter’s dancers appear like a murmuration of starlings, thousands of pieces of their body move in a smooth, fluid motion. At times they appear to be so close together, that the question arises of how they are kept separate and do not bump into each other. It is all the more remarkable, that this is Schechter II, performed by dancers 18 – 25 years old. Launched in 2018, it is the only paid professional development programme of its kind for emerging contemporary dancers in the UK. As the scenes progress, so does the pounding of the music (arranged by Shechter himself), percussive and repetitive with matching movements often quite animalistic. Tom Visser’s lighting design is very powerful. Down lighting and uplighting are both used to highlight the dancers and change the quality of the scenes. At one hour long, and no scenery or props, these lighting and sound changes are very welcome to bring new focus on the dancers. At one point the stage went dark, raising the question of whether there had been a technical hitch, but no, when the lighting came up again, all of the eight dancers appeared in another spot on the stage like rabbits pulled out of a hat, lithe and energetic. This effect was repeated a few times, the dancers so quick and silent that their reappearance was quite magical. Midway through the piece the dancers began to separate with solos and duets, clearer lines and demarcations between them, perhaps signalling the growth of mankind, but they are still staying in character. They bring a particularly Jewish way of moving, with a nod to traditional dancing, and repetitive gestures. Feelings of despair, of ritual and supplication are also shown, in rhythmical pounding and fiery display. Yet, there is also a nod to traditional dance forms from other cultures, perhaps to remind us of the Jewish diaspora. A final word to the costume designs by Osnat Kelner which had a lovely colour palate: subdued, soft blue, yellow ochre and white with a smidge of red. The clothes allow an ease of movement, flowing with the body and yet each design is different. The dancer in the suit, had the first solo, and because he was the first, it is quite a memorable, a shift away from the community into individuality. Altogether, it is an astonishing piece of choreography, we might assume that the dancers had some input of their own, as they are an international cast, bringing a hint of other cultures whilst remaining grounded in Shechter’s techniques. The standing ovation they all received was very well deserved. IN THE BRAIN Weds 22 – Sat 25 July 2026, 7.30pm, AT THE SOUTHBANK CENTRE’S QUEEN ELIZABETH HALL AS PART OF ITS 75TH ANNIVERSARY BOX OFFICE https://www.southbankcentre.co.uk/whats-on/hofesh-shechter-in-the-brain/ Choreography & Music: Hofesh Shechter Lighting Design: Tom Visser Costume Design by Osnat Kelner Sound Collaborator: Frédéric Despierre Additional Music: CAVE by Hofesh Shechter and Âme (Kristian Beyer & Frank Wiedemann). Licensed by arrangement with INNERVISIONS Dancers: Matilde Agostinone, Teige Bisnought, Nagga Baldina, Federica Fantuzi, Woojin Kwon, Armand Lassus, Skiye Nataliah, Ella Roberts Photography: Todd MacDonald

‘a charming evening of opera’ ★★★ ½ Barefoot Opera presents Mozart’s comic opera Così fan tutte, at the annual Grimeborn Festival. The story centres on an experiment run by scientist Don Alfonso to discover whether he is right in believing ‘that’s how all women are’; fickle in matters of love. Brothers, Ferrando and Guglielmo, believing that their fiancés are loyal, disguise themselves and try to test their fidelity by tempting them into falling in love with the ‘two strangers’. Is Don Alfonso, right? However unlikely that the women would not see through the disguises, the opera does say something about human nature and about forgiveness. Of course, it’s a wonderful excuse to show off operatic skills. With just two instruments, a double bass (Amy Baldwin) and a keyboard (Lesley Anne Sammons), the opera must rely on story, voice and characterisation to flesh it out. Director, Jenny Miller, had some fun ideas for the ensemble and the presentation of costume – the clothing being such an important part of the story. The opening scene, when the ensemble, all dressed in black and writhing on the floor, chattering in Italian, nicely set up a sense of the prototype human being; an expectation of what is to come. Perhaps this early promise was not quite matched throughout the production; the clothing not as rich as could be hoped, and the humour not very well developed. Perhaps the story is not always very clear, but the subtitles help to give some clarity. At two and half hours (with interval) it is a full and enjoyable night out. The scene stealer of the night (for me) was the Zara Donaldson who played Despina (the lady’s maid), with wit, eye catching physicality and a pleasing voice. Then there are some really lovely arias showing off the talents of the singers which also helped to create a charming evening of opera. Barefoot Opera presents, Così fan tutte Composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart Libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte Directed by Jenny Miller ARCOLA THEATRE, Studio 1, until 25 July 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.arcolatheatre.com/event/cosi-fan-tutte/

“a brave offering from a talented actor who has a compelling story to tell” ★★★ Celebrated actor Christine Lahti brings an autobiographical one-woman-show to the Marylebone theatre about her journey through womanhood and the many challenges she has faced in a male dominated world. Unsurprisingly, she brings a passionate performance to a piece which, despite many significant and tender moments, struggles to pull the many separate anecdotes together with the required focus to take the audience on that journey with her. On a minimal set, the play opens at the beginning of Lahti’s life. A projection of her family appears behind her and we are quickly introduced to the relationship between her mother and father which will define the tone for the rest of the evening; ‘patriarchy on steroids’, as she elegantly describes it in her programme notes. The patriarchy is ever present as we move from her upbringing through her education and to her professional life, yet the conflicts seem somewhat inconsequential. Her journey feels passive to what are quite clearly symbolic points in her life. There are some hard hitting topics explored throughout. From sexual assault to suicide, Lahti’s life is one which deserves attention. And yet, while she handles these topics delicately and with the compassion you’d expect from someone that has lived them, she fails to direct the empathy she creates for these moments to the protagonist - herself. She becomes a passenger in her own life story which tangents too many times to command the engagement that it warrants.. Lahti does an admirable job of bringing the many characters in her play to life. Her portrayal of her mother, with her ever present cigarette in hand, is a stand out and it’s not difficult to tell who is the clear inspiration for her play. Her storytelling keeps the audience engaged even when the plot doesn’t with well controlled ranges of emotions and pacing. Although described as a one-woman-play, she is supported by the talented young Jesamin-Bleu Gibbs (alternated with Isabella Ford) in the role of her younger self who provides some creative variety to the dialogue and will undoubtedly be seen gracing many stages for years to come. Director Melisa Annis brings the play to life combining minimalism with technology which works on occasion but feels at odds with the setting for much of the first act; the modern neon lighting giving the 1950s white tuxedo sofa a retro feel rather than the historic time piece that it is desired to be. The projector screen in the background, so often a distraction in productions, is used cleverly and sparing throughout, adding a depth and detail without being overbearing. That being said, the decision to roll footage of Lahti’s Golden Globe victory, while funny and worth watching, felt out of place and more suited to a Ted Talk than the theatre. The Smile of Her is a brave offering from a talented actor who has a compelling story to tell. It sadly lacks the cohesion and depth to convey this story to make it as compelling a watch. The Smile of Her at Marylebone Theatre, 10th July - 29th August BOX OFFICE The Smile of Her at Marylebone Theatre Christine: Christine Lahti Girl: Jesamine-Bleu Gibbs / Isabella Ford Director: Melisa Annis Writer: Christine Lahti Photography: Mark Senior

‘A thoughtful meditation on place, becoming a parent and new perspective on your own childhood.’ ★★★ How important to us is the place where we are from? How does it shape our identity? And is defining a place ever straightforward? Liz Richardson’s one woman play explores these themes in relation to her own life and upbringing. The narrative is triggered by Richardson’s parents’ decision to sell the family home, leading her to return to the Lake District. But is it really the Lake District or is it West Cumbria? And does being born and growing up in a place automatically make you a “local”? These things can be a matter of perspective. The play makes clever use of video (shot by Jim Dawson and Izzy Pye) to evoke the beautiful region. The scenery is spectacular but other things intrude, such as the Sellafield nuclear processing plant (where Richardson’s father worked). The contrast is considerable, but which should define the area? Richardson is a charismatic performer and hearing her revisit her home and teenage years is compelling. The set (designed by Lizzy Leech) is based on Richardson’s teenage bedroom in the 1990s, and the artifacts and music are certainly evocative of the time. Rediscovering old diaries and reconnecting with old school friends helps her to unpack the story. The play is also about storytelling itself. With a nickname of “60 per cent truth-Liz”, the narrator is clear that this story is, like all good yarns, embellished. Whilst the play is always engaging and often funny, it sometimes lacks dramatic urgency, or at least until the closing sequence. But Local is a thoughtful meditation on place, becoming a parent and how this provides a new perspective on your own childhood. LOCAL devised and written by Liz Richardson. Co-devised and directed by Amy Hailwood. Produced by Liz Richardson Productions Ltd Playing at the Finborough Theatre until 1 August 2026: https://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/productions/local Photography: James Kirby

"You might for a moment think 'what have I got myself in for?'" ★★ Em-barking (pun intended) on something of a world tour, Pup Play: A Queer Pseudo-Lecture (of sorts) is whole new kind of lesson. Admirably raising $1400 so far for LGBTQ+ charities, this one-man show of provocation and punk music comes with a halo of acclaim and notoriety. Professor Handler David (Noah Pantano) is our host. He's a young academic by day, and a Pup and Handler by night. For our first lesson, he beckons us into the world of Pups, a subculture of people who role play as stylised canines: they crawl and bark and wear specialised gear like neoprene hoods with snouts and ears, and masks, leathers, and harnesses. While not entirely sexual for everyone (as much as 50% – Pantano displays some interesting stats on this), it emerged from the BDSM scene and can have a particular importance for queer people as a social outlet. As a Handler, Professor David also acts as a kind of trainer, helping others get into their Pup state of mind. Including you – yes, he gets the audience to bark. This "pseudo-lecture" opens exactly as described, giving background and context to an underground world. As he recounts his introduction to it, the show promisingly evolves into a deep-dive of Pup psychology. His first time in a kennel-cum-cage is an abstraction of inadequacy and anger and pleasure and confusion. But it quickly loses this train of thought to become a cross between an interactive, visual essay and experimental theatre, without quite making it in either. The interesting meta layer is that Pantano is also an academic himself, and there's some acknowledgement that he's sort of playing himself even though he's not playing himself. I'm not convinced this technique works for me as it puts too much diegetic distance between the audience and the character, and the character and the actor, preventing you from feeling anything for them. This problem is where the cracks begin to show. Despite early promise, the monologue goes on to string together a series of emotionally intense but narratively incoherent sermons about...well, I can't quite put my finger on it, but it sounds important. Arguments are left mid-air, sometimes uncomfortably: in attempting to demonstrate societal discomfort with queerness, Handler David seems to make an implication that somehow fisting should be an appropriate thing for work colleagues to know about – that you'd be sacked if they all knew what you got up to in private. Well, yes. That's why these things are done in private. And it's definitely not the type of thing you bring up at work. I do understand what he's getting at, and the hyperbole he's using to demonstrate it, but for me the extreme example means it's taken from a gay disapproval point to the much broader category of kink shaming, or something more anarchist entirely. Well, that's not exclusive to gays and kind of undermines its point. Not that I'm exactly sure what that point is. Again, it loses this train of thought in favour of further lectures on homonormativity and assimilation. We meet "Homer the Homonormative Puppet", a stripy sock character whose humorous and increasingly disturbing discussions with Handler David slowly morph into the voice of his own internalised-homophobic subconscious. Pantano wants to make an old point about queerness only being acceptable if it's assimilated into heteronormative ideals, and okay maybe, but for me this is just a distraction from the juicy bits. It's nicely done, but a bit preachy. When you're talking to a queer audience, they've all already heard that before. What we actually want to be lectured on is the secret world of Pups. We want to know more about that. Pup Play is certainly a queering of theatre in its experimental mode of storytelling – if we can call it that – but not in its form or structure. And though on my night there were a few minor technical errors (opening night, fair enough), which Pantano dealt with cheerfully, they weren't anything that could have caused the 60-minute show to have ballooned to a near 90, especially given its very fast pace. That's a considerable difference in this case because it means the pacing falls out of alignment with audience expectation and their natural sense of time. In other words, it starts to get samey. That effect is only compounded by the countless amount of false endings in the final third, each of which would have made great endings – if indeed they had been. This makes for a slightly tiring watch at that level of emotional intensity. Nonetheless, the piece has a charming and slightly surprising self-deprecation about it ("raise your hand if you don't like the show...no refunds"), which is a nifty way to get away with some of those weaker moments, and it certainly works for me. But despite some funny lines here and there, it's heavy stuff overall. A lot of tears and angry punk. But even serious works of art can keep their sense of fun without cheating their intellect. There is some great lighting design though, from claustrophobic blue spotlights to the raw exposure of the full house lights. These work beautifully with the action. And the creative use of visual gags, projections, and video work is among the best I've seen. The opening prologue too, with its various warnings of vulnerability, audience participation, and explicit content, sets up an intriguing sense of debauched danger, as though descending down a dark shaft, quite unlike anything I've seen before. You might for a moment think "what have I got myself in for?" It's exciting, even if it doesn't fully deliver in the end. Pantano, however, is a raw and earnest actor. I absolutely applaud his brave and wholehearted performance. He puts everything out there, inside and out, and that is worth seeing. While I didn't totally follow the thread through this journey, Pantano is quite clearly a very smart man and an endearing performer. He has a generous and commendable mission to raise awareness of queer realities and complex kinks. And I really would like people to go and see the play regardless. You'll be giving to charity and getting a genuinely edgy show in return. So pop on your lead, it's time to go walkies. Class dismissed. Pup Play by Noah Pantano Barons Court Theatre, 16 – 18 July 2026 Box Office: https://www.baronscourttheatre.com/pupplay Instagram: @pantsoffproductions

‘a scorching, excoriating central performance by Mollie Milne as Tia’ ★★★★ Tia doesn’t have a lot going for her beyond a sort of rat-like survival instinct and the ability to blag chips by being annoying and whiny. She’s poor and skinny and doesn’t like her foster-mum or social services or the police, and has had sufficient experience of those institutions in her 14 years in Glasgow to be quite sure they don’t like her. It isn’t a recipe that bodes well when she tries to get justice after being trafficked and abused by a man who was initially nice to her. Initial niceness, followed by violence and abuse. This isn’t an easy show to watch. Tia’s serial degradation is wrenching, her attempt to make anyone in authority believe her story is agonising, there are very few laughs. What there is, is powerful and eye-catching direction from Marlie Haco, a dynamic set design that makes Tia’s confinement physical and vivid while allowing the actors space to move, Phil Davies’ note-perfect dialogue, and a scorching, excoriating central performance by Mollie Milne as Tia. A powerful script, an important story, and acting out of the very top drawer. FIREBIRD isn’t easy, but it is really good. Plays at Southwark Playhouse Borough until August 1 st . Double Telling presents FIREBIRD By Phil Davies Directed by Marlie Haco 9 Jul - 1 Aug 2026 BOX OFFICE https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/firebird/ CAST Mollie Milne as Tia Taqi Nazeer as AJ Kelise Gordon-Harrison as Katie CREATIVES Phil Davies-Writer Marlie Haco-Director and Dramaturg Tomás Palmer-Set Designer Sarah Mercadé-Costume Designer Ákos Lustyik-Composer and Sound Designer Ben Jacobs-Lighting Designer Gabriella Shimeld-Fenn-Casting Director Annelie Powell-Casting Director Joe Prentice-Production Manager Heather Smith-Stage Manager

'Peter Matz’s music gives Shearer and Leopold’s witty lyrics an extra lift' ★★★★ “Hoover was a bigot, a racist and a homophobe — a conspiracy theorist who amassed and abused enormous power, pursued his enemies unscrupulously and trampled on the civil liberties of law-abiding American citizens.” Nicholas Goldberg in the Los Angeles Times. J. Edgar Hoover, the first Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), serving from 1924 until his death in 1972, targeted civil rights organizations, anti-war activists, and socialist groups. He used the FBI to hound anyone with unorthodox opinions. He seems to have had a particular loathing for Martin Luther King Jr. He tapped King’s phone, bugged his hotel rooms, and had an anonymous letter sent to him encouraging him to kill himself before he was exposed. When in 1968 he heard that King had been shot he said: "I hope this son of a bitch doesn't die because if he does, they'll make a martyr out of him.” He kept extensive files on politicians and journalists, either because he distrusted them or because he wanted to blackmail them. He blackmailed successive presidents in order to keep his job. He claimed to believe homosexuality was a threat to national security. He tracked and hounded gay federal employees, and he was almost certainly a closet gay himself. So making a comic musical out of his life is full of pitfalls. The man and his deeds are dark and dangerous, and if you put them on stage, no one is going to find them funny. But if you go for the fun, making it a gay romp with a sanitised Hoover at its heart, you risk a “Springtime with Hitler” moment. Fortunately, it’s in safe hands. Writers Harry Shearer and Tom Leopold and director Josh Seymour have produced a gloriously funny musical out of Hoover’s life, but they have not left out his dark deeds. Peter Matz’s music gives Shearer and Leopold’s witty lyrics an extra lift, and Bill Deamer’s choreography is worthy of Hollywood it its very best. It’s wonderful to see it at a small, intimate 200 seat live theatre in Islington. There are some great lines. Everyone needs publicity, radio commentator Walter Winchell tells Hoover. If he gets publicity, “soon your G-men will be allowed to wear guns and arrest people”. And, in a fashionable night club frequented by the stars: “You might want to get up from that floor, Shirley Temple just threw up on it.” The cast is magnificent, led by a scowling but amorous Bryan Batt, from the TV series Mad Men, as Hoover. Perhaps he’s a shred too likeable – I’d have liked to see a little more menace. Hugo Bolton simpers magnificently as Hoover’s long-standing friend, assistant and lover Clyde Tolson. There are briefly entertaining cameos of the presidents Hoover blackmails from Simon Antony (Johnson), Ryan Heeman (Eisenhower), Alfie Parker (Roosevelt) and Reuben Khan (Kennedy), though I felt some small effort might have been made to get them to look a little like the presidents they portrayed. Special mention for a marvellous cameo from Judith Owen as the “lady in red.” Laura Medforth is wonderful as Hoover’s loyal secretary Helen Gandy, who worked for him, kept his secrets, and, if this version is to be believed, secretly loved him, for 54 years until he died. One of the best scenes in the show is a song and dance routine in which Helen, ageing and having sent all lovers packing, tries to show her uncomprehending boss what a wild affair with her might be like. And the cross-dressing scene, when Hoover goes to a party in a dress and meets a man called Victor who fancies him, is a marvellous contrast to what has gone before, with the FBI director simpering: “If you’re Victor, I must be the spoils.” J Edgar Theatre Productions Presents HERE COMES J EDGAR! By Harry Shearer, Tom Leopold, & Peter Matz BOX OFFICE https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/here-comes-j-edgar-a-comedy-musical-t7zc Starring MARC ELLIOTT BRYAN BATT as J Edgar Hoover Creatives Directed by Josh Seymour Choreography by Bill Deamer Musical Supervisor, Orchestration & Arrangement- Benjamin Ferguson Musical Director - Luke Holma Scenic Designer - Sophia Pardon Costume Designer - Tom Paris Lighting Designer - Jamie Platt Sound Designer - Nick Lodge Casting Director - Harry Blumenau CDG CSA General Management - James Quaife for Luminous Entertainment Group Producers – Arthur Spivak and David Burns Ensemble Judith Owen Lucy O'Byrne Alfie Parker Laura Medforth Holly Willock Jeremy Batt Isobel Grace Bass Joanna Kirkland Hugo Bolton Martha Pothen Ryan Heenan Reuben Khan Jess Pratley Simon Anthony