Reviews

‘ a recognisable satire of the ultra-rich ’ ★★★ The number ‘2.36’ is associated with the size of the average UK family, an interesting namesake for a play that is about a distinctly not average British family. At nineteen and twenty years old, Josh and Kiera “Kiki” Carrington have only ever known a life of immense privilege thanks to their grandfather’s real estate empire. Grandfather’s status casts a large shadow over the play, much like their lives. Tonight, the siblings have been reunited in Luxembourg, their father’s birthplace, for a family business-meeting-cum-holiday. At least, that was the plan. Now faced with the evening alone, Josh and Kiera must instead face each other, the nature of inheritance, and their own personal responsibility. What follows is an hour of family debate surrounding the roles of gender, legacy, obligation, and expectation regarding their respective birthrights. A disagreement over their Luxembourgish roots is the first indication that Josh and Kiera have clashing worldviews. Josh feels a deep connection to a country of people he praises with a host of adjectives like ‘well-bred’ to avoid the one he really means: ‘wealthy’. Kiera, on the other hand, is ashamed to think their family history is tied to local tax laws that allow the global 1% to hide funds and exploit developing countries. This one dispute proliferates into non-stop disagreements about the world, capitalism, and their own relationship. Through these conversations, 2.36 condemns the hypocrisy and insidiousness of virtue signaling as much as the selfish greed and evil of economic conservatism. Unfortunately, the lack of detail in the script means this critique falls somewhat flat. The scope of the family’s wealth is unclear, as is the nature of the financial dealings that are only obliquely referenced. The family’s wealth seems to have no practical bounds, yet Josh’s insecurity compared to those with greater affluence is a critical plot point. Inconsistent details are invoked to serve the script’s purpose at any given moment more so than to reflect a well-established outside reality and family history. 2.36 is a recognisable satire of the ultra-rich and Josh and Kiera are recognisable characters. They bear striking resemblance to the Roy siblings in Succession as much as the Rose siblings in Schitt’s Creek. They share the same sarcastic combination of intellectual self-awareness paired with the complete delusion of the entirely out-of-touch. 2.36 succeeds in finding its genre and is most memorable for its humour. The jokes on the page are brilliantly brought to life thanks to exceptionally winning performances from both Anoushka Cowan and Elijah Lifton. Still, without anything to do or characters to interact with - save one off-stage waiter who provides desired comedic fodder - Cowan and Lifton can only go so far. Their characters feel frozen and the audience never learns about the siblings via their encounters or as they move through the world. Our understanding comes entirely from what they themselves tell us, which remains unsatisfying. Josh and Kiera articulate traits and dynamics we do not see. The script suffers from a lack of plot and action. Information is revealed with the same ‘tell-don’t-show’ dialogue. The waiting that provides the engine for the play could be the ideal backdrop for a transformative night, but instead fosters an experience of stagnation. Given the short run-time, 2.36 never drags, despite the lack of action. Rather, it maintains its laugh-out-loud comedy throughout. It is entertaining, if inconsistent. Some moments feel aimless, others feel laser-focused. 2.36 is clear in its intention and is an open invitation to laugh at the delusions and narcissism of the most highly privileged, a humour that can be satisfying or grating depending on the audience. Marigold Productions presents 2.36 at Circle & Star Theatre in Hampstead through till 10 September. BOX OFFICE: https://www.tickettailor.com/events/circleandstar/2267745 Written and produced by: Anoushka Cowan and Elijah Lifton Directed by Guy Rapacioli and Jessie Millson Dramaturgy by: Ruby Isaacs Sound design by: Belle Bao Costume design by: Izzy Rigby Presented by: Marigold Productions Patrons: Richard Bean & Anna Ziegler

 ‘...riveting, wound-parading monologue’ ★★★ The woman before us has no name but a story to tell. Agitated, wild-eyed and manic in her movements, she tries to make sense of and pick apart where her marriage and relationship failed. As we track back through the relationship, dipping into fairy tales, Disney, Celine Dion, the Bible and female archetypes, fact blends with fiction, fantasy crashes into reality and the audience considers this impassioned version by a narrator who may not be wholly reliable. LAMDA-trained writer and performer, Henri Merriam, gives an emotionally charged, physical performance in this 75-minute, wound-parading monologue, originally presented in 2025. Her body, expressions and voice are fully utilised to attack her raw subject matter. She experiences bitter disappointment and quiet devastation when her partner fails to meet her needs. As they falter and drift, “the house is cold but our bed, colder,” her humiliation and rejection is as fresh and painful as Eve being slung from the Garden of Eden for independent thought - and this comparison is made. He does have a name. Tom is a blokey, traditional cattle farmer to her flighty, highly-strung actress persona. He is represented by a series of flat, disinterested voice-overs. He meets her obsessive traits with retreat and stoicism. She teaches him numerous words of more than two syllables including "facetious" and "incompatible." This detail, an aside really, makes her character seem patronising and less likeable. For Valentine's Day, he buys her a gooseberry bush - 'sharp, spiky, prickly and bitter' - because it reminds him of her. She should have realised then. Or perhaps when he hit the bird with his car. Or… If this were a reality TV show, the audience would be shouting: ‘Don’t do it! He’s not the right one.’ When he gets all antsy because she won’t change her surname or performs a volte face on the issue of having children, these red flags are willfully or idealistically ignored. There’s nothing more tragic than an unloved or scorned woman and this sense of betrayal and loss is toe-curlingly conveyed. There is life after divorce, one can be fun, and after all the turmoil experienced by the audience, a greater sense of clarity and learning would have lightened the conclusion, which feels more self-indulgent than self-reflective. Monologues by their very nature give one interpretation or perception. This is their joy - and can be their agony - depending on whose head an audience finds themselves in. Here, the performance is riveting while the narrative, sometimes overblown or florid, is challenging. We see a woman obsessed with love and blinded by its force. She thunders headlong into her first meaningful relationship only to find herself in a strange land, misunderstood and unheard, with a stranger who speaks a different language and both are trapped in something dysfunctional. All the feminist theory in the world can’t negate the fact this is an ill-matched coupling and that there are two victims, which makes you wonder how it would fare as a duologue in another iteration. Whichever way you look at it, love hurts. Ain’t that the truth? There Is a Light and a Whistle by Henri Merriam at Hen & Chickens Theatre from the 8 – 13 September Writer and performer: Henri Merriam Director: Sophia Capasso Sound Designer: Frazer Merrick Designer: Shahaf Beer Producer: Marcello Pautasso London Technician: Emily Wilson Presented by Play Nicely Theatre Photography Credit: Scott Golding Sub-Edited by Harry Speirs

“This masterpiece deserves an audience, so go out and give it one.” ★★★★★ What a night at the Opry-a. Assume from here on out that the cast are supremely musically talented. The skill and sheer range of each is stunning and had the effect of making a small London venue measure itself in acres. This is something both cast and crew will have to get used to as there can be no doubt that Oil and Whiskey is going to be very big indeed. You have been warned. Book now or commence the TodayTix pre-grovel. In fact, this show boasts so many names in future lights that energy saving measures should, at the very least, be considered. Before going into individual performances, a full line of credit must be extended to the band and background singers. As well as being spectacularly gifted, they are at the heart of things and work so effortlessly alongside the cast that it was staggering to learn that they only joined for the London shows. The staggers continue as this is, in fact, a play of multiple debuts and the first offering by producer, musician and writer Kit Nolan, who we will so obviously be hearing from again that it feels like he’s already talking to us. Paired with the excellent and already-much awarded playwright Dax Wiley, this formidable writing and composing team bring some much-needed country joy to a post-Dolly world. Producer Alexa Karas’s brilliant stewardship makes this possible and we have her to thank for bringing the show Brit side. So, to the cast, a group of spectacular performers who came together in a room in North London and created glum’s opposite. Firstly, Juliet Perel in a remarkable performance as Zelda, a down on her luck Pulitzer aspirationalist, dismissed from the New York Times to work in a bar, and condemned to meet up with the one that got awry, a former flame who left to make it as a country star. Perel is nothing less than exceptional, imbuing Zelda with wit, charm and vulnerability. Her ability, outstanding, her connection to the audience, palpable. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Cornelius Versa has a wonderful turn as love interest/sometime Nashvillain of the piece, Teddy. Re-entering Zelda’s life with an ain’t-you-just-the-darndest-thing swagger, his portrayal of flee-the-scene boyfriend never enters fuckboy territory. Admittedly his one-man aria decrying prophylactics might tip in that direction, but Versa brings a real emotional depth to the character elsewhere and ably resists pastiche. And that voice. If there was a smarter word for triple good with cheese on top, then it would describe Sarah Giulianti, who dazzles as Zelda’s best friend Bree. Her vocals, presence and comedy chops are fabulous, and she is obviously having enormous fun in the role. Her withering put downs, excellent dance moves and the love she has for her friend bind the whole show together. A standout duet with bartender and self-appointed narrator extraordinaire Ray deserves particular praise. Who is Ray you ask? An outstanding KJ Nugin as it happens. Part compere, part Bourbonic confidante, Nugin has an audience of Northern Line eye contact dodgers gamely “hollerin and swallerin” throughout. It was, I’ll concede, more than a bit moving to see such collective joy on display and Nugin’s ability to bring this forth was outstanding. Nugin’s talent and nuanced performance cements Ray as the show’s moral compass. It really couldn’t get better. At this point, you know I like it, right? Well, that is in large part due to Yuval Benit’s superb direction and choreography, that deftly weaves the honk to the tonk, and brings together the performances, music and movement into something unforgettable. The chemistry between those on stage is clear, as is a match-fit readiness that, once again, is astonishing given the changing faces since the Edinburgh and New York runs. Benit is clearly another star in the making. As to other matters, there’s a level of light touch audience interaction that gives attendees a level of non-squirmy involvement and those concerned about volume could consider getting their Loop’s out as the show is concert loud but that didn’t seem to bother Saturday’s audience. All told, Oil and Whiskey is a word of ear hit and a sparkling monument to hee-haw, built on the strongly Partonian principles of fun, warmth and acceptance. This masterpiece deserves an audience, so go out and give it one. BOX OFFICE https://weareoldred.co.uk/whats-on/oil-whiskey/

'One is taken back to the great cinematic moments' ★★★ ½ Well, what a delight this was. Having begun its active life at the wonderful Mill At Sonning, Tam Williams’ Still Life has been transported to the gorgeous bar at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane and re-invented itself as a ‘come and have a nice afternoon tea with a bit of immersive theatre’. Often this type of thing doesn't work - but this does. A preclude to what became Brief Encounter, Still Life is a moving study of ‘ifs and buts’ and is quintessentially Noël Coward. The play is all about the silences, the looks and the quiet moments but, before this, we find ourselves seated either side of the glorious Grand Saloon Bar to indulge in a generous and tasty afternoon tea. For the record I had English Breakfast Tea and the mini sausage roll was the highlight - I could have had a bowl of them. After a convivial hour of eating and chatting, a railway guard (Antony Jardine) enters with a ukulele and a gentle intro to the action begins. A small catastrophe arises when the sleek Laura (Rachel Pickup) catches some grit in her eye and, fortunately, there is a doctor in the house and Alasdair Craig’s Alec sorts her out. There is an immediate but gentle ‘something’ between the pair which we see fully bloom across multiple scenes across an extended timeline. Both are married, both have children but there is an overriding sense that a real love has taken hold. From Meeting 1 to Meeting 2 - both taking place in the waiting room - there has been a cinema trip and a lunch and the pair are clearly besotted but in a typically understated Coward-esque way. Their relationship progresses and then - at a key point - so very slightly falls apart. There is an inevitability about what plays out and how it plays out but the journey is still very much worth it. The central performance from Pickup as Laura is a highlight - she is mannered and precise whilst exhibiting both joy and utter desolation when required. Craig’s Alec feels a little overly pushy at times and lacks the nuance to make us really feel for him and his situation - but the duo work well together. Their scenes are interspersed by some charming music and amusing moments from Jardine, Elizabeth Elvin as the cantankerous but hugely funny Myrtle and some standout vocals (plus trumpet and keyboard paying) from Seren Sandham-Davies. One is taken back to the great cinematic moments within Brief Encounter and, indeed, the stage play from a good few years back by the great Emma Rice. The location here was iconic but, unsurprisingly, there were issues with sight lines and, more troublingly, sound as the high ceilings drowned out key moments. But, this was a joy and, as a friend and colleague noted, wouldn’t this work well in a real life railway waiting room with the trains roaring by like life itself....... Bob and Co. & Wild Pursuit Theatre present STILL LIFE by Noel Coward Theatre Royal Drury Lane Grand Saloon Bar Catherine Street London WC2B 5JF Tuesday 8 - Saturday 12 September BOX OFFICE Still Life | LW Tickets There are two performances each day Afternoon Tea is served at 12noon Performance starts at 1pm or Afternoon Tea is served at 3pm Performance starts at 4pm Running time of ‘Still LIfe’: 60 mins Tickets: £75 Image: Rachel Pickup Photo by Andreas Lambis

‘Nicola McAuliffe gives a tour-de-force masterclass’ ★★★★★ Hard to imagine how Annie Wobbler could be better revisited than in the Finborough’s present production, fresh from a triumphant run in Edinburgh in August. Nicola McAuliffe, who first performed the play back in 1983 and for whom it was written by Arnold Wesker, gives a tour-de-force masterclass in bringing three women at different life stages into existence. It’s a performance big enough to entrance a 1,000-seat auditorium, but part of its sheer joy comes from being able to see from a few feet away in the Finborough’s intimate space a top-class actor seeming effortlessly to infuse her characters with joy, pain, hope and really quite alarming rage on the turn of a phrase, the flicker of a thought on McAuliffe’s ever-expressive face. The rest of the production’s pitch perfect too – a set populated by mannequins, wigs, bric-a-brac suggesting its characters ordered and disordered lives. The show starts with Anna, a young woman just out of university, the first of her generation and female to boot, beginning, with optimism and trepidation, to explore the possibilities life is offering her. A boyfriend from a higher social class and better university who patronises her dreadfully but seems to offer opportunity (and voiceovers from Alex Jennings to represent smug self-satisfaction never hurt any show). There is perhaps a slight adjustment required for the audience as McAuliffe arrives (it takes a moment or two to visually resolve whether this is a young woman or an older one clinging to her youth) but the mixture of yearning and underlying awareness that life has not often been unmixedly good for women of Anna’s class is beautifully written, perfectly mined for its pathos and wit. Odder is the middle segment, in which Annabelle, a writer, is seen in two incarnations, perhaps bipolar personalities – a drifty, dreamy Irish lady (who nonetheless knows the value of a million dollar contract), and a fierce, combative, energetic Scots author who has no truck with idiots and provides some genuinely terrifying moments of anger. The shift from Anna to Annabelle, including near invisible costume change, is another perfectly achieved theatrical effect – this is a show with a great script, a superb performance, and all the technical stuff so ideal it almost goes unnoticed. Annie Wobbler herself fills the last part of the play – an older woman, unkempt, in need of a bath, who cleans where she can to scrape a living and is found with her trolley in Waterloo Station, musing on her life and where it went until the station closes. It should be and is heartrendingly sad – this is a woman who thinks they didn’t quite put her together right and for whom opportunity has never knocked – but Annie’s spirit and joy in small things makes hers a life less ordinary, too. It’s one of the things with theatre, unlike film or TV, that performances live only in the mind. Seeing Nicola McAuliffe, just gone 70, inhabiting the characters she created when she was under 30 merely makes me wish I’d seen them back in 1983 as well. Sheer joy. Box Office: https://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/productions/annie-wobbler-revisited Production Images - Credit: Ella Carmen Dale  Reviewer David Weir is the author of The Westminster Mysteries novel series, including The Honourable Member for Murder. Plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), Murdering the Truth (Greenwich Theatre, London) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London).

‘technology may imagine the future, but its romance remains trapped in the past’ ★★★ You & It is a new musical from South Korea and the winner of Best Musical at the 13th Daegu International Musical Festival, one of Korea’s major platforms for new musicals. Its premise is immediately intriguing. After Mina dies in an accident, her grieving husband Gyujin rebuilds her as an AI. Beneath this contemporary idea sits a surprisingly old-fashioned book. I once saw a reel joking that lovers in K-dramas never have sex and that their first kiss arrives 90 per cent of the way through the series, usually without tongues. The joke works because it recognises a familiar convention: romantic relationships are often sanitised. Before Mina’s death, she and Gyujin are a perfect couple. The opening number gives us an ideal marriage rather than a specific one, Mina dies before she has fully emerged as a person. The AI version of Mina is not fundamentally different from the “perfect wife” presented at the beginning. Both versions exist primarily in relation to Gyujin’s desires. The book becomes a series of episodes illustrating his growing dissatisfaction, rather than asking why Mina, human or artificial, has been constructed around serving him. The premise seems to invite questions about whether technology can reproduce humanity, but the question remains largely unexplored. Even the ending, in which Mina removes herself from Gyujin’s life, completes the patriarchal fantasy. Her final act is another service performed for him. The perfect wife proves her love through self-erasure. This returns the musical to the tradition of shinpa. The word literally means “new school”, rather than “new wave”. The form originated in late 19th-century Japan and entered Korean theatre during Japan’s colonial ruling over Korea in early 20 th century. In Korea, the term eventually became associated more broadly with highly emotional melodrama, often driven by suffering, impossible love and female sacrifice. Technological imagery may make the story appear contemporary, but its idea of love remains rooted in the familiar spectacle of a woman suffering beautifully for a man. You & It reproduces that emotional machinery without interrogating the gender politics beneath it. Nonetheless, this production has clearly been made with care. Lucy Park, appearing as Mina in place of Frances Mayli McCann at this performance, and Zachary Pang as Gyujin perform with warmth and commitment, while Esther Jun’s direction is assured. Most impressive is Adrienne Quartly’s sound design. The balance between the live musicians and the performers is exceptionally well judged. The involvement of English-language lyricist Ricky Allan, alongside dramaturg and additional lyricist Yojiro Ichikawa, also demonstrates an effort to adapt the Korean work for a British stage rather than simply transpose it. But clarity of execution cannot supply the complexity missing from the writing. Music in a musical must do more than sound beautiful. Too often, the songs in You & It simply restate emotions we already understand.  Its technology may imagine the future, but its romance remains trapped in the past. EG Musical Company & MCG Productions presents YOU & IT by Seoeun Oh and Q Lee at King’s Head Theatre 7 – 26 September 2026 BOX OFFICE https://kingsheadtheatre.com/whats-on/you-and-it-cs41 Cast & Creatives Cast Frances Mayli McCann | Mina Zachary Pang | Gyujin Creative Team Seoeun Oh | Original Writer Q Lee | Original Writer, Lyrics and Composer Esther Jun | Director Yojiro Ichikawa | Associate Director Bob Sterrett & Lu Herbert | Set Designer Lu Herbet | Costume Designer Jonathan Chan | Lighting Designer Adrienne Quartly | Sound Designer Minje Lee | Art Director Ben Dackerman | Production Manager Gangwon Boo | Artwork Designer Minkyoung Park | AI Tech Director Ricky Allan | Lyrics Ben Armstrong Casting | Casting Director Yojiro Ichikawa | Dramaturgy and Additional Lyrics Amy Hsu | Musical Director/Musical Supervisor Ara Cho | Planning & Production Producer Eunggyu Lee | Executive Creative Producer Danny Khan | Production Photography

‘clever, and unique satire’ ★★★★ ‘Does My Privilege Look Big in This? is a brilliant satire, unapologetically ruthless and an accurate depiction of the social impact of class divide.’ Jess (Siân Lawrence) and Millie (Elle Davies), childhood friends, are now about to enter adult life. Jess has big ambitions for her future, but, coming from a working class background, opportunities seem hard to reach. She hasn’t gotten into Oxford, and currently works as a cleaner. As she tries to understand what her best friend Millie finds in Hugo (Leah Aspen), her disgustingly posh and misogynistic boyfriend, she discovers a secret (or a curse?) that changes everything. Hugo and his sidekick Arnie (Molly Jones) are the perfect cliché (and it is painful to admit how accurate it is for some men) of Eton boys. They are arrogant, disrespectful, and careless. But for them, being smart, well-intended or hard-working doesn’t matter, since their privilege allows them to have anything they want, including getting into any prestigious university they wish to attend. As Jess puts it ‘[They] walk around the world in an entirely different set of shoes’. What starts as a light-hearted scene between the two main characters, Jess and Millie, who share a deep friendship, soon takes a black-mirror turn when Jess discovers she can access all the power of privilege by simply putting on Arnie’s jacket. This piece is a clever, and definitely unique satire from Siân Lawrence, who proves to be both a talented writer and performer. The fact that all the characters are only very young adults, almost children still, makes the play even more heart-wrenching: the class divide affects everyone and privilege can bring out the worst in some people. Misogyny is heavily present in Hugo and Millie’s relationship, as Hugo cheats on her, controls her and blames her for getting pregnant. The two friendships are also well depicted, as the care Jess and Millie have for one another is non-existent for Hugo and Arnie’s, as Hugo constantly belittles and bullies Arnie. The choice of having an all-female cast makes sense and suits the feminist aspect of the piece. The scenes flow well at a good pace, the music is wisely chosen. Eilidh Evans’s vision is clear and sharp, and she manages to create a dark, ominous feeling that only deepens as the play unfolds. The set design is simple, all black furniture and costumes, and the lighting too, gets darker in the later scenes. There is comedy, but no joy. No light at the end of the tunnel to remind us that this isn’t real. The two mirrors onstage reflect Jess’ transformation as she slowly loses herself, or perhaps, in the grander scheme of things, reflects to the audience directly the sort of world we live in. The themes addressed in Does My Privilege Look Big in This? are tackled in an intelligent and unique manner. However, a few bits within the story could be refined. The characters’ arcs could be stronger: there is no end or resolution to Jess and Millie’s friendship, Hugo sort of disappears and Arnie isn’t present enough for us to care too much about the end of the play. Some jokes / comedy bits could be polished to be even funnier, which could help the audience care more for the characters and show how complex they are. But overall, this is an exciting and promising piece of new writing. Does My Privilege Look Big in This? is a brilliant satire, unapologetically ruthless and an accurate depiction of the social impact of class divide. Does My Privilege Look Big in This? By Siân Lawrence at The Hope Theatre 4 – 6 September 2026 Box Office https://www.thehopetheatre.com/doesmyprivilegelookbiginthis Cast Siân Lawrence Elle Davies Molly Jones Leah Aspden Creatives Writer: Siân Lawrence stage manager: Ro West director: Eilidh Evans co-producer: Silly Billy assistant stage manager: Mia Batchelor Photography Credit: Joe Collins

‘packed with versatility and talent, guided by a forward-thinking director’ ★★★★★ For anyone unfamiliar with the plot of Twelfth Night, it is the story of a near tragedy that gives new opportunities to the survivors. They have a chance to start again, a new life in a new country, it is a comedy and a love story with an unexpected ending. Viola, pretending to be a man seeking service in the court of Duke Orsino, falls for the imposing physique of her employer while on her mission to secure for him the hand of his love, the lady Olivia, who in turn ends up falling for Viola. The Duke himself puzzling all the time over why he is attracted to his new man-servant. Nothing much seems to be going right for anyone but it not a spoiler to say they all live happily ever after. Well, almost all of them. So why another version of a 400+ year old play? You would have thought it would have been done to death by now. Well, for a start, like all of Shakespeare's plays, it's a good story. There is also always the argument that you have to introduce Shakespeare to people who don't know his plays. This then is a perfect introduction for the newcomer with its crisp editing and energetic delivery and its easy-to-follow storytelling. Of course, there is the temptation these days to exploit the gender-bender aspect of not just this play but several others in an effort to appear original or different. This idea has been carried into some of his works that hint at no such thing. Traditional genders of his plays, perhaps appearing somewhat of a novelty these days. Thankfully, the director has stuck for the most part to the original men as men, women as women and looked elsewhere for a unique selling point. This version is set in the 1970s with a prominent helping of retro garb and classic songs of the period. Most of these are in their original form but some are presented as karaoke sung by cast members. This has familiar tunes perfectly placed to punctuate with title or lyrics, the mood of the text at the chosen moment, hilarious characterisation, tacky, trendy, kitsch 1970s costumes which I'm sure some people back then thought were really cool - certainly a sentiment that came across strongly in this version through the portrayals of Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew and Fabian. The drink, the drugs, the womanising and the posing were all thrown in for good measure and added to the fun of the proceedings. This is not the first Acting Gymnasium production to give the Globe a run for their money, and at a fraction of the cost without having to stand up all the way through it. For sheer originality, life, pace and clarity of storytelling, this beats recent offerings from the Globe hands down. All this is greatly down to surgical editing of the original script, which delivers a very funny, (and I couldn't hear some lines because of the audience laughing), fun to watch adventure which is by far the best play I've seen this year and possibly (I can't think of another) one of the best placings of a Shakespeare play in a modern setting. The cinema equivalent might be Baz Luhrmann's Romeo and Juliet? Go and see it - and if "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" was ever your thing back in the day, you will probably find yourself getting up on your feet to get down with the cast on stage for the finale - so if that's your thing, then you simply can't miss this. Unlike some recent west-end musicals, where I've heard it said that none of the songs was memorable, and the audience left the theatre with nothing to take home in the way of a tune they just couldn't stop singing, Twelfth Night gives you plenty to remember. Whether it is the delicately presented rendition of Abba's "The Winner Takes It All", movingly sung by Gulin Langbroek as Feste, as Viola stands downstage, pining over her unrequited love for the Duke; or the hilarious capers of Sir Toby Belch, reincarnated into a 70s medallion man, unashamedly strutting his stuff on the dance floor, while the series of rebuffs to his lecherous macho chat-up strategy have no penetration through his rhinoceros hide ego, all to the perfectly chosen anthem of T-Rex's "20th Century Boy". And there were plenty of others. It may not all be Shakespeare, but it is Shakespeare in a modern setting. Admittedly, the songs were all big hits in their own right back in the day. So we have great writing and great music but surely the genius here is the director's editing of the script to two hours and the choice of which track to choose and exactly where to place it in the play. None of the music interrupted the flow of the story, quite the contrary, every song punctuated precisely what was going on when it accompanied a character's feelings or underlined the action onstage. The casting too was clever. Having seen this group several times in the past and so being familiar with many of the cast members' abilities, it was impressive to see them now in extremely different roles to the ones I had seen them in before. The original take on the part of Olivia by Prilly Lee was zany and bonkers but worked so well and added to the depth of variety of personalities on stage. Viola was expertly played by Molly Hockham, who displayed a measured amount of pathos, frustration and finally joy at the end of the play. The whole disco dancefloor seemingly revolved around the towering figure of Charles Worthington as Duke Orsino in the opening number, a beacon in his John Travolta white suit. This displayed the unique characterisation of each player, presenting a dynamic overture of what was to come. The supporting cast of James Wills, Rachael Sparkes, Emma Douse, Stephen Saintclair, Ilya Romanov, Ellie Baker and Nick Morris all stepped up to the mark in minor roles which all too often let the side down in fringe theatre productions. Here they were all exceptional and not a word was lost, or intention misconceived through lack of effort. Olivier and Burton both played Othello and Sir Toby Belch, two roles that are worlds apart. That Aryan Chavda also took on both and performed both excellently well says much for his ability and talent. Ellen Terry may have famously played Lady Macbeth but who would then cast her as Malvolio, belting out a pop song in a following performance. And as there was no pop music back in 1890, what then instead if popular songs of that era were from the music hall? The suggestion is absurd but in a different era with a different audience, Helen Probert has glided effortlessly from the vampish lunatic that was Lady Macbeth to the petulant fool Malvolio, bragging and brooding. I'm not suggesting here that anyone performing in the Drayton Arms this week will go down in immortality but those who dared in the late 1800s will never be forgotten. After all, everyone knows of Oscar Wilde. Okay, so it's not the writing that is on show here either but a cast packed with versatility and talent and guided by a forward-thinking director is more than a breath of fresh air amongst a west-end theatre scene that has for too many decades now been mostly playing it safe. TWELFTH NIGHT By William Shakespeare, Adapted and Directed by Gavin McAlinden Drayton Arms Theatre 1 – 26 September 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.thedraytonarmstheatre.co.uk/shakespeares-twelfth-night CAST Charles Worthington Helen Probert Aryan Chavda Prilly Lee Molly Hockham CREATIVE TEAM Director: Gavin McAlinden Designer: Camille Godechoux Lighting: Jonathan Simpson ASM/operator: Ray Enion Photography credit: Mandy Gasson

‘a unique and effective interpretation’ ★★★★ Joe Judd’s debut play couples the age-old theme of witchcraft with contemporary attitudes towards conspiracy, rebellion and panic that we are all too familiar with. Olivia Baird leads a flawless cast as Sarah, under the conscious direction of Spiky Saul. We are introduced to two sisters with clearly-defined contrasts; Sarah, a worn-down and tense government employee, and her peculiar sister Poppy (Hannah Sophia Wright) who is part of the anti-government ‘Collective’. What first starts as a simple domestic rivalry between siblings soon turns dark with the arrival of Jacob (Saqib Bashir). After Poppy notices a suspicious mark on her sister’s back, and a recently-adopted bird dies suddenly in the flat, accusations begin to fly. The apocalyptic setting isn’t forced upon the audience; the play opens with Sarah scrolling through mindless content on her phone after work, gently building the idea. This abstraction of our idea of brain-rot is gradual, as we learn about the ‘Strays’ (those who are suspected of being witches), and the ‘Stink’ (the outside world itself). What strikes me most is how claustrophobic and close everything feels; all at the same time, the audience wonder who is living in the above flat, who is at the door, and who is beyond the window in the Stink. Plenty of mystery is kept around who the Strays are and what their aim is, keeping us uncomfortable throughout. The sisters become more alike as the play moves on, both sharply contrasting with Jacob, and then even more so with Virtue (Jess Taverner) and Integrity (Hugo Gregg). The latter two characters are the most interesting part of the play. As allegorical characters often do, ‘V’ and ‘I’ satirize the world they exist in; uniquely, Judd builds these characters as twisted versions of their namesakes. Allegorical characters (as far back as Piers Plowman and The Pilgrim’s Progress) typically guide central characters towards their virtues, but by reversing this effect, Judd shows how easily these values can be placed on any idea to create a powerful political tool - a unique and effective interpretation. Although ‘V’ and ‘I’ are satirical characters, they are also quite slapstick, which slightly undermines the tone of the play. The complex form of these characters also means that their exit leaves that part of the story incomplete. Jacob’s introduction, in contrast, offers the right amount of comedy at the right place in the play. As Judd wished, I certainly did leave the closing-night performance with a huge number of questions; less so about the world itself, but about the people in it. The claustrophobic nature of the play left me thinking about the answers for some time afterwards. ‘We all want a simple solution. I know I do.’ This was the closing night for what was surely a fantastic run at the Golden Goose, and I look forward to more work from this creative team and cast.  Riot Run Productions Written by: Joe Judd Directed and Designed by: Spiky Saul Dramaturgy by: Sara Safi Produced by: Oliver Judd and Joe Judd Costume design by: Hannah Wickham Intimacy coordination by: Lexie Woodroof Lighting by: Kit Jamieson Sound by: Ben Clarke Stage management by: Oscar Maddocks Set design consultancy by: Lily Booth Painting by: Caroline Judd Sub-Edited by Harry Speirs