Reviews
‘Low-fi thrills’ ★★ As the audience is led upstairs into the pitch black theatre room of the Old Red Lion – London’s most haunted pub – there’s a frisson of anticipation from the young audience settling into their seats as if feeling their way into a ghost train. We’re in the hands of Billy (Roseby Franklin) a 13-year-old ghost hunter who's building quite an online following, with her treks across to the Other Side. Billy, cute and sweet, gives it large in a baggy sweatshirt. She wants to be cool, adult and ironic, and apes the street kids with a well-behaved, middle class accent. With rudimentary tech—a torch, walkie-talkie, camcorder and ring light—ghosts and spirits are summoned. In the black space, the lights create eerie effects while a backdrop of projections magnifies the live footage. As a first work from Dogrose Productions (Theatremaker, Roseby Franklin and Writer/Director Hayley Rose) this duo formerly of Inceptive Collective combine horror, comedy and clowning. Building on the low-fi heritage of The Blair Witch Project and drawing on the visual/sensory tropes of “bad paranormal TV shows,” there's heavy breathing, empty space and a waiting for something to happen. While the anticipatory thrill of waiting is palpable, it’s a long build-up in this hour-long show of conversational ad-libbing which may or may not be leading somewhere. Why does Billy find both solace and status in chasing spirits? Billy is a loner - or lonely: her grandma’s dead, her parents argue and the other kids are dumb, but we’re left in the dark narratively and technically. Threaded through this hour long ghost hunt is a sub-text of genders past; living between genders in the way a spirit might exist between two worlds. But this significant thread is subtly presented and could be drawn out more. Nightboy certainly has lots of potential to grow and build more meat into this spectral feast before heading to Brighton Fringe for more spooky appearances. Instagram: roseby.franklin
'Tom Barnes as Ruben the Staffie, is faithful to the large, dumb dog role and riffs off Patty Gallagher’s dog, Foster, perfectly.' ★★★★ ½ What a bitch! That is to say, Patty Gallagher puts on a truly remarkable performance as a female golden retriever (Foster) in Tate Hanyok’s US transfer called Dog Mom. Foster finds an owner in newly-divorced Sarita (Vinita Belani), a mid-life, South Asian woman making a new start in Brooklyn. Sarita finds herself fostering a stray, or “emotional support animal”, and Belani plays the bewildered new ‘parent’ very well. The neighbor, Nell (Joanna Holden), is a long-time Brooklynite who shows her the ropes of caring for a dog, and self-care, and is a hoot with her accent and antics for releasing stress, and introducing Sarita to the ‘dog pack’. She is not alone: this is an incredible cast. Her dog Ruben (Tom Barnes) is faithful to the large, dumb dog role and riffs off Gallagher’s dog, Foster, perfectly. Jarreau Antoine is the cast’s silver bullet, as he reappears as an energetic (female) park visitor, a nosy neighbor, a dog thief, a vet, and yes… a cat. The writing (Hanyok) is insightful and comic at the same time. There are some lovely comparisons of pet owners to having a child - and the territorial nature of open spaces in cities between these groups. The comedy in this piece is varied, from caricatures to slapstick to the very language. Some lines, said by humans (Munchausen-by-puppy) others said by the dogs (“old dirt and secrets” and Sniffari). By intermission, after an epic fight scene, the mood is light---maybe too light because at first it is hard to see the real depth of tension. Yet, the second act shows that nothing connects you to characters and prepares a viewer for their very real emotional struggles like guffaw comedy. The beautiful set evokes Brooklyn brownstones perfectly and the gorgeous light projections of apartment interiors and city locations do much to transfer scenes from indoor to outdoor spaces seamlessly. The sound design is spot-on and the music emotionally connected. Whether you are a dog-lover or not, this play has a wonderful inter-racial, inter-species message. This is bold comedy-drama, centering middle-aged females (and their dogs). In the midst of the joviality, there is a sense of pathos in the piece that does come out and real life struggles become evident. And so does dogged wisdom. BOX OFFICE Written by Tate Elizabeth Hanyok Directed by Ajay Chowdhury Performed by Vinita Belani, Patty Gallagher, Joanna Holden, Tom Barnes, Jarreau Antoine Set Design: Sean Cavanagh Lighting Design: Oliver Brown Sound Design: Annie-Celeste Taylor Costume Design: Rashida Humayun
“inventive staging, committed performances and an appealingly dark premise.”★★★ Written by and starring Julia Pagett, JUST BE A GOOD PERSON, ACTUALLY explores a marriage in purgatory, where Felicity and Lucas are trapped reliving the last day of their relationship. Against a hellish and surreal afterlife, infidelity, resentment and the consequences of their decisions come under scrutiny. The cast deliver strong performances, particularly Natasha Mula and Joshua Glenister, who multi-role with impressive versatility, shifting between characters that range from the couple’s obnoxious drunken friends to squabbling afterlife employees. Director Andrew Hollingworth, who also plays Lucas, makes some imaginative staging choices. An early sequence using umbrellas is particularly effective, while a trolley is cleverly repurposed as everything from a bus stop to a reception desk. Later, Felicity and Lucas zip around the stage on wheeled chairs as Lucas drives recklessly, the precisely timed movement and sound effects working well together. Sudden shifts in sound and lighting, contorted voices and unsettling physical postures evoke the uncanny nature of the afterlife. Bureaucracy also gets a merciless roasting, with even the business of being dead requiring forms to be completed and appointments booked in advance. The dialogue feels naturalistic, and Pagett has a good ear for a dry line, with Felicity delivering some sharply funny deadpan put-downs. But the quips become a recurring defence mechanism. Whether she is talking to Lucas or the other characters she encounters, opportunities for a more revealing exchange are repeatedly deflected with another joke. The repetition gradually stalls the story and keeps Felicity at an emotional distance, while greater glimpses of the vulnerability beneath her indifference might have made her emotional journey more compelling. The storyline feels like a series of disconnected episodes rather than a cohesive narrative. This fragmentation may be purposeful, reflecting the characters’ own confusion at being trapped in limbo, but it makes the first half of the play difficult to follow. The structure sometimes obscures the central relationship rather than deepening it. Lucas and Felicity’s respective adulteries, followed by a late emotional revelation, risk pushing the play towards melodramatic territory. A more focused exploration of the lead-up to the breakdown of their marriage might have given the story greater emotional weight and allowed us a better understanding of what brought these two people to breaking point. Ultimately, JUST BE A GOOD PERSON, ACTUALLY has inventive staging, committed performances and an appealingly dark premise, but its uneven storytelling and limited development of the central relationship mean it doesn’t quite deliver the emotional impact it could. Box Office: https://www.tickettailor.com/events/circleandstar/2256639?date=2026-10-20 Reviewer Annie Power is a London-based playwright, screenwriter, producer and theatre reviewer. Her work has been staged at venues across London, including Soho Theatre and The Old Red Lion Playhouse, and she won Best Writer at Underwire Film Festival. She is also the Founder and Artistic Director of Open Page Productions.
“The central concept is inventive, the audience interaction works brilliantly, and, most importantly, Laury is a genuinely funny and engaging performer.” ★★★★ Forget ghosts, ghouls and things that go bump in the night. Sometimes the most terrifying experience imaginable is accidentally jumping the queue in a coffee shop and being publicly shamed for it. Or forgetting your friend’s girlfriend’s name and becoming a social pariah as a result. Welcome to THE DUSK REALM, where the horrors are mundane, the consequences catastrophic, and embarrassment is a fate worse than death. Written and performed by Jonathan Laury, this delightfully daft solo show takes its inspiration from the television horror anthologies of yesteryear. Seated in a chair, drink in hand, clad in a Victorian smoking jacket, Laury adopts the persona of a mysterious horror host, ready to regale us with tales of unspeakable terror. But instead of supernatural encounters and macabre murders, his stories explore the everyday anxieties and social faux pas that most of us would rather avoid. It’s a great premise, and Laury has a natural aptitude for comedy, with a wonderfully expressive face, exaggerated gravitas and an impeccable sense of the ridiculous. The contrast between his portentous delivery and the spectacularly trivial nature of his stories provides some of the evening’s biggest laughs. Audience participation is integral to THE DUSK REALM. Unsuspecting spectators are recruited to manage props, provide sound effects, and generally assist in keeping the wheels turning. There’s something immensely appealing about Laury’s approach to audience interaction. Rather than treating the audience as fodder to be humiliated for laughs, he brings them into the performance, creating a playful, inclusive atmosphere in which everyone feels part of the joke. The staging is minimal and elegant: a table, a chair, a handful of props and Laury. Lighting and music are used sparingly but effectively, proving crucial to several jokes, particularly the opening sequence. Sound effects are largely delivered through recording buttons or obliging audience members, adding to the production’s charm. There’s also an intelligence beneath the silliness. Laury peppers his material with cultural references and recognisable social situations, trusting his audience to understand the jokes without having everything laboriously explained. Laury is an oddly mesmerising presence, confident in his craft and relaxed enough to embrace the unexpected when things don’t go according to plan. As a work in development, THE DUSK REALM is still finding its feet. Much of the material is fresh, and while repetition often builds the absurdity, not every recurring gag works. For example, after each tale, Laury piles another random hat onto his head, including a green beanie with yellow eyes and a silver sequinned Santa hat. It’s a joke that’s never explained and never quite lands. A little judicious trimming would sharpen the pacing and allow the strongest comic moments to shine. The central concept is inventive, the audience interaction works brilliantly, and, most importantly, Laury is a genuinely funny and engaging performer. His ability to command a room with little more than a button, Mickey Mouse boxer shorts and flair is impressive. With further development, THE DUSK REALM has the potential to become a startlingly original show. Laury takes the familiar television horror-host format in an unexpected direction, replacing supernatural terrors with everyday social anxieties to create something smart, whimsical, and refreshingly unpretentious. After all, who needs supernatural monsters when the prospect of an everyday social encounter is quite terrifying enough? Box Office: https://weareoldred.co.uk/whats-on/grimfest/the-dusk-realm/ Written and performed by Jonathan Laury. Annie Power is a London-based playwright, screenwriter, producer and theatre reviewer. Her work has been staged at venues across London, including Soho Theatre and The Old Red Lion Playhouse, and she won Best Writer at Underwire Film Festival. She is also the Founder and Artistic Director of Open Page Productions. @anniesrpower
‘a night of pure distilled joy ’ ★★★★★ PG Wodehouse, who knew a thing or six about musical theatre, once wrote that there are two ways of writing novels – going right down deep without caring a damn or producing a sort of musical comedy without music. Keith Strachan’s new show very much takes the latter route to providing a night of pure distilled joy – but with a whole lot of music thrown in. Who Put the Bomp is a hit from its opening moment as five kids and their inspirational teacher get together to, in ancient Hollywood style, put on a show as a capella singing group the Doo-Woppers. It’s a compilation musical with the songs all popular favourites from the doo-wop era (Why Do Fools Fall In Love, Shout and loads more), so the songs sit outside the story rather than telling it (a moving version of Roy Orbison’s ‘Crying’ being a rare exception). One hit follows another for most of the show’s two-hour running time, and are so infectious and perfectly performed that it’s hard to imagine the grumpiest curmudgeon not tapping a toe on the staircase down from the auditorium at the end. But this is a quality cut above some average jukebox musicals in that care has been taken with the book, giving broadly sketched but distinct and believable storylines to all six characters within an overarching plot of a group rising from street corner singing to Brits awards stardom. The script is necessarily brisk and efficient, but it is also very funny – any show that can get repeated and rising laughs out of its own stage directions has a great writer. There’s also a high-quality cast of performers it’s hard to believe are largely professional newcomers. All six have individual high spots but they also act seamlessly as a team in a textbook display of ensemble performance and generosity. The sheer comfort Billy Michael and Joy Silweya show on the second night of their first professional engagement is a compliment both to their considerable stage talents and voices and to director Strachan and musical director Marissa Landy (also performing, hilariously, as the enthusiastic teacher, Miss McTavish). Perhaps the comic highlight of the evening finds Silweya pursuing an increasingly nervous Michael across the stage as she sweetly tries to let him know she’s keen on him. Joshua Webster’s choreography is unobtrusively smooth, complementing a set design that is also quietly perfect – back-wall projection giving us streets, the schoolroom, a bar. Aidan Spicer brings laughs and pathos to an apparently over-confident boy whose vulnerability gradually emerges, and Finn Williams is Fonzie cool as the boy with the bass voice deeper than the ocean. A grinch might note there’s nothing very profound about all of this, but theatre ought sometimes to be about nothing more than sheer pleasure. And there’s plenty of profundity to be found in writing, direction and performance this good. Take Note Ltd for the Tabard Theatre presents: WHO PUT THE BOMP? by Keith Strachan at the Tabard Theatre 14 October to 7 November 2026. Box Office: https://www.tabard.org.uk Cast Billy Michael | Billy Joy Silweya | Summer Joshua Webster | Cole Aidan Spicer | Danny Finn Williams | Jack Marissa Landy | Miss McTavish Creative Team Keith Strachan | Writer and Director Anne-Marie Lewis Thomas | Musical Supervisor Callum Bruce | Lighting Designer Faith Powlett | Costume Designer Charlie Stace | Sound and Projection Programmer Rob Miles and Pat McMahon | Set Construction Marissa Landy | Musical Director Joshua Webster | Dance Captain Melody Lo | Stage Manager Simon and Sarah Reilly | Producers Photography credit: Hunter Collins Photography Reviewer David Weir writes The Westminster Mysteries novel series, including The Honourable Member for Murder and Motion for Murder. Plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), Murdering the Truth (Greenwich Theatre, London) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London).
“A gloriously chaotic blend of slasher horror, interactive gaming and unpredictable theatrical mayhem.” ★★★★ Six friends head off on holiday together, bringing with them a tangled assortment of romantic complications and family connections. Their destination is a remote cabin in the woods, where, unbeknownst to them, a killer is lurking, ready to pick them off one by one. It’s a premise straight out of the classic slasher movie handbook, but while the scenario may be familiar, the way the story unfolds is not. Before entering the auditorium, audience members are invited to scan a QR code and sign into the show’s interactive website. Enter your name, and you’re officially part of the action. Two buttons appear on your phone - red and blue - and throughout the performance, you’re presented with choices that determine what happens next. And these aren’t merely cosmetic decisions. Seemingly insignificant choices can have devastating consequences, while others present life-or-death dilemmas. The audience votes, the majority wins, and the performers enact whatever fate we’ve collectively inflicted upon them. A large screen dominates the back of the stage, displaying the choices while doubling as a video game interface, complete with character information and collected items. The technical demands are considerable, with multiple narrative possibilities and constantly shifting scenarios requiring lighting, sound and visual cues to respond to the audience’s decisions. Yet the whole thing runs remarkably smoothly, allowing the audience to become completely absorbed in the unfolding chaos. Particularly impressive is the phenomenal sound design. Much of the murderous action takes place in darkness, leaving the audience to fill in the grisly details. Yet the extraordinarily vivid soundscape brings every sickening axe chop and disturbing squelch to life. It’s gruesomely effective. The cast deliver strong, energetic performances while navigating the constantly shifting narrative, with several actors taking on multiple roles. The ensemble embraces the production’s horror conventions with infectious enthusiasm. Admittedly, one particularly dreadful Scottish accent threatens to become a horror story in its own right, but it’s a minor distraction in an otherwise accomplished production. The characters and scenarios gleefully embrace slasher-film tropes, from going down into the cellar to the sort of spectacularly poor decision-making that has audiences shouting at the cinema screen. Here, however, we don’t simply get to shout at the characters. We get to make their bad decisions for them, and that’s where SURVIVE THE NIGHT really comes into its own. At the performance I attended, decisions prompted cheers, jeers, laughter and vocal disagreements as opposing factions battled to determine the characters’ fates. Some spectators appeared genuinely invested in keeping everyone alive, while others positively delighted in the prospect of sending another unfortunate soul to their death. I must confess that, when faced with certain choices, I wasn’t entirely averse to sacrificing some of the more obnoxious characters myself. Sometimes it wasn’t so much about doing the right thing as choosing the lesser of two evils. It’s this unpredictable audience dynamic that elevates the production beyond a clever technological gimmick. The collective decision-making transforms a roomful of strangers into an enthusiastic, occasionally bloodthirsty community. We become complicit in the action, celebrating our successes, lamenting our mistakes and discovering just how ruthless our fellow theatregoers can be. And perhaps its greatest selling point is its replayability. With different decisions leading to entirely different outcomes, a return visit could offer an entirely new experience. How many theatre productions can genuinely offer that? Distinctive, imaginative and tremendous fun, SURVIVE THE NIGHT delivers a gloriously chaotic blend of slasher horror, interactive gaming and unpredictable theatrical mayhem. Box Office: https://weareoldred.co.uk/whats-on/grimfest/survive-the-night/ Reviewer Annie Power is a London-based playwright, screenwriter, producer and theatre reviewer. A contributor to London Pub Theatres Magazine since 2016, her work has been staged at venues across London, including Soho Theatre and The Old Red Lion Playhouse, and she won Best Writer at Underwire Film Festival. She is also the Founder and Artistic Director of Open Page Productions. @anniesrpower
'Delves clearly knows his subject and smartly steers us towards the denouement' ★★★ ½ Guilty as charged. I am one of those 50-something men that, with the knees having packed up thus meaning that running and squash are pretty much out of the question, has embraced the lycra and spends far too much money on Rapha products. I've done a couple of 100 mile rides which nearly resulted in my premature end and so it goes without saying that my admiration for those who ride the tours professionally and relentlessly knows no bounds. Of course I know of Wiggins, Thomas and Froome, of Contador, Indurain and LeMond, and he who must not be named (rhyming with Chance Palmstrong). I have to confess that I did not know the name Cadel Evans, an Australian who won the Tour De France in 2011 and whose story is smartly and vividly brought to life by Connor Delves as, for its 100th performance, it reaches the Riverside Studios for its press night. Let me firstly say that Delves is clearly in good nick and he needs to be as he spends much of the tight and taut 70 minutes on various 'I'd quite like that one' stationary bikes as he takes us from Evans' humble upbringing (simple life, moving around Australia, supportive parents) to mountain biking and then to making serious attempts at winning the Tour De France which culminates in his emotional win in 2011. As Cadel, Delves is a real live-wire, archetypally Australian, bursting with energy but with an increased focus as he starts to believe that he can and will win the world's greatest cycling race. His literal and figurative journey from a slightly introverted, injury-hit figure to confident and outgoing winner is well realised and whilst there are moments which drift dangerously towards Aussie caricature, Delves clearly knows his subject and smartly steers us towards the denouement at the Champs-Elysées. Delves' performance is everything but the show is lit up by a smart use of video archive content which is used on a big screen backdrop throughout the story. This is most effective with loving race shots through France and into Paris and, most wistfully for folk of a certain age, commentary from the great Phil Liggett, who memorably predicted Cadel's Tour de France win many years before it actually happened. The video material combined with Delves' busy inter-changing of bikes and lycra keeps things moving along at a jaunty pace, albeit I might have trimmed 5 or 10 minutes from the running time. I guess you can say that there Delves and his co-writer Steve McMahon get a bit stuck between the back story and the ultimate win so there is a lack of jeopardy. We also don't learn anything about Cadel's private life but maybe that wouldn't have added anything - who knows. All in all this is a slick, well performed show which deserves a successful run in London - and a tour beyond. Cadel : Lungs On Legs by Connor Delves & Steve McMahon Riverside Studios https://riversidestudios.co.uk Directed by Mark Barford Starring Connor Delves Photography: Kyle Dax Smith
‘An intriguing experience with some fantastic ideas’ ★★★ The idea of an object outliving its owner, and holding a horror story, is terrifying enough; Nina Atesh and Alexander Wright pull this fear apart with four engaging short stories, each told from an eerie antique ‘shop’. The Tourist (Nina Atesh) comes across a shop and discovers that the owner, Monty (Nicholas Benjamin) views each of his antiques as invaluable. She soon learns why, as each item has a tale behind it. The first story is my favourite, with an interesting exploration of the power dynamics between a photographer and their subject. It delves into the Sontagian idea of the subjects being pawns to reflect the photographer themselves, reversing the power of the politician and his perceived control over his subjects. There’s plenty to consider in how an image can capture a moment while at the same time giving the creator control over how another person is seen and remembered. It’s a compelling start and lays the groundwork for the psychological unease that the anthology goes on to unpack. The other three stories are loosely connected, although the links feel more thematic than essential to a collective message. Indeed, Atesh and Benjamin have explained that the stories were not originally written to fit together, and that the shared themes emerged as the pieces were brought together. The connection is interesting but some concepts feel too far-fetched to be realised in the short time available. Each piece is set in an evidently complex world, and the need to identify and justify the conflict each time means the storytelling occasionally feels rushed; the stories do not all achieve the same impact for this reason. It felt to me as though the stories are connected chronologically, taking place at different moments in time, the first story being the most historic (though I may be mistaken). Exploiting this link further could allow the central theme of control to shine through in different settings. I also enjoyed the set design, which suits the psychological approach to horror, rather than relying on jump scares or gore. Ultimately the play has an appealing premise with some particularly unnerving moments, even if the ambitions of the individual stories sometimes call for a more substantial format. The anthology as a whole is an intriguing experience, building stories around some fantastic ideas. Uncle Monty’s Antique Shop, presented by Pither Productions. Part of HERE FOR season of work at Lion & Unicorn Theatre (Kentish Town, London) 13 - 17 October 2026 Box Office https://www.thelionandunicorntheatre.com/whats-on Cast: Shanice Petilaire Akshay Sharan Ryan Williams Nina Atesh Nicholas Benjamin Creative Team: Nina Atesh (writer, director) Alexander Wright (writer, director) Brett Kasza (lighting design) Joseph Emms (fight choreography) He (John) Zhang (tech operator) Katie Allen (artwork) production photos by Jayfantanapics
'Feels like an early draft, albeit one written with intelligence' ★★ ½ As someone who regularly travels between London and Cornwall I was intrigued by the premise of this one act new piece of writing - not least as the most exciting thing that has happened to me on my travels is a bit of celeb spotting (Louis Theroux, Dawn French, Greg Davies amongst others) and playing 'guess how long the delay will be'. For her second play, SouthEast Londoner Elise Simond takes five disparate passengers on board the 9am to Penzance, plunges them into chaotic delay and darkness, throws in a ticket inspector who may or may not the real deal and looks to come up with a commentary on the human condition, how we mix, chat and cope and, fundamentally, what we do in the strangest of circumstances. This is all done through a lens that takes clear inspiration from Tales Of The Unexpected, Inside Number 9 and ghostly tales like The Weir. That Simond largely fails should not in any way take away from both the potential and the ambition - but this was a disappointment. Despite it being October, the tiny Hope Theatre is hot and steamy on final preview night with the audience sat in close to the actors who are packed in to the 'railway carriage' down the middle of the auditorium. So, we have a mechanic, an actor, a local journalist, a dentist and a young girl trying to get home - all very The Breakfast Club. As the train lurches to a halt - so far, so Great Western - and the somewhat un-hinged inspector offers little by way of real help, the restless passengers start to question and complain about the situation and, slowly, one another. It quickly becomes clear that the world outside is changing - it's getting un-naturally dark and the sea is rising - and whilst the passengers can open a window they can't move to another carriage. As the five engage Simond cleverly gives each of the protagonists their 'moment in the sun' as over the next hour they give up a little bit about themselves which leads to......alas, not quite enough to carry a one hour play. Simond does write really well - lyrically and with assurance. The problem is that it's all a bit dull. None of the 'stories' told by the five passengers really add to the overall story - they don't illuminate much about their own lives and ultimately the time drags and the audience feels a bit lost. There is no great reveal - apart from the contents of the mechanics work bag - and the open ended denouement is just fine. The inexperienced acting troupe are well rehearsed and are also just fine with nice turns from Richard Dodgson as the slightly pompous actor and Rachel Thornton as a self absorbed journalist. But this is all about the writing. The show has been a few years in the making but still feels like an early draft, albeit one written with intelligence. So, a bullet train this ain't - more a locomotive slowly pulling out of the sidings. But but but........that Elise Simond has written and directed this with such clear confidence leads me to think and hope that she is absolutely on the right track. Speak Of The Devil by Elise Simond Hope Theatre https://www.thehopetheatre.com Written & Directed by Elise Simond Starring Georgina Klovig-Skelton, Rachel Thornton, Richard Dodgson, Ethan Beckley, Tom O'Reilly and Zoe Benefer
‘Serious theatre, well researched, beautifully performed and choreographed. ’ ★★★★ It could be argued that a play about the persecution of Jews is topical right now, but, then, and depressingly, when has a play about the persecution of Jews ever not been topical? Hannah Arendt was a German philosopher, most famous now for coining the phrase ‘the banality of evil’ to describe Adolf Eichmann, an architect of Hitler’s ‘final solution’. She was, of course, Jewish, too. She was also, Julia Pascal’s piece tells us, one of many women held at the Gurs internment camp in Vichy France in 1940, later escaping to the USA where she became established as a pre-eminent writer and thinker on, among much else, totalitarianism. Pascal’s well-researched performance piece finds three young Jewish women taken from their comfortable, cultured lives in Paris to the internment camp in ‘free’ France, where, with nearly 60 more in their hut and hundreds more in their camp, they will starve, live among rats and lice, defecate in the open and in public and much more. Pascal has the insight to see that it is not only their previous luxury that they miss – for one, Eva Daube (Ariella Barnett), for example, the remembrance of a sliver of unsalted butter on fresh bread is the once quotidian commonplace that has become an unattainable indulgence. Hannah (Mai Weisz), older, sterner, educated, and sexually experienced enough to have had an affair with her now dubiously Nazi professor, is a strong figure in this camp. Eva, barely out of school, remains idealistic, a communist as well as a Jew, a fighter. Charlotte (Anna Eckhard), an artist, struggles more to survive this appalling, apparently endless new world in which they are imprisoned and degraded for nothing more than who they are. Dramatists are continually injuncted to find light in darkness, a task perhaps harder in the context of Europe 1940 than in most circumstances, and a task perhaps impossible in the context of Europe’s Jews. Pascal has chosen a fractured structure to provide 20-odd snapshot scenes of the horror, with each scene number announced and location/situation told to the audience. This choice of Brechtian distantiation, telling the audience what they are about to see, prompting them to consider the what and why of the events being portrayed as well as the performances and other theatrical contrivances, adds to the seriousness of what is in many ways as much a presentation as a traditionally dramatic performance. This is not to say there is no joy to be found – the whirling dance and song with which the principal trio (Hannah, Eva and Charlotte) open the performance before they are placed on a bus to the south of France, for example, and several moving songs from the imprisoned women. It does mean that scenes are largely descriptive – we hear what characters say to survive from moment to moment, see what happens to them, but gain little of their interior lives, including that of the title character. Pascal trusts her audience to come armed with pre-knowledge of who Hannah was and why she matters, and for that matter, of who, for example, Heidegger or Eichmann were, or the distinction between Vichy France and Nazi Europe. The detail of the performance lies, therefore, in the experience of these three women, and of representatives of millions more. One such is Agathe (Helen Goldwyn), an older doctor and voice of sense and calm authority, whom the pervasive dysentery or another sickness will claim before liberation or escape. Another actor, Anja Fahlenkamp (also responsible for excellent musical composition and arrangement) is listed as ‘Ensemble’ and, on being asked on arrival at the camp for her name, lists, and represents, many; not all stories can be told. The performance comes closest to standard drama in a series of scenes involving a fifth named woman, Trude (Pat Dynowska), a thief and a former prostitute, whose ‘trial’ when she is caught stealing some bread from a fellow inmate is the most personally emotionally charged sequence. There is, regrettably, one small mis-step in the finale when Hannah, reunited in America after the war with Eva, recalls that they were three and asks what happened to Charlotte. ‘Gassed’, Eva replies, and we are sickened by the knowledge. But we hear nothing more of the fate of poor, lower-class, uncultured and uneducated Trude. This is serious theatre, well researched, beautifully performed and choreographed, re-telling an aspect of a story that has been told many times in many ways since the 1940s. It strikes, perhaps as a result of its alienating theatrical structure, more at the intellect than the emotions. Yet that is, imaginably, no bad thing when the world around us repeatedly suggests that the tale can never be told so frequently or so well that its lessons will be universally learned and acted upon. Arcola Theatre and Pascal Theatre present: THE BANALITY OF EVIL: HANNAH ARENDT, FRANCE, 1940 by Julia Pascal at the Arcola Theatre 8 October to 7 November 2026 Box Office: https://www.arcolatheatre.com/event/the-banality-of-evil/ Cast Ariella Barnett | Eva Pat Dynowska | Trude Anna Eckhard | Charlotte Anja Fahlenkamp | Ensemble Helen Goldwyn | Agathe Mai Weisz | Hannah Creative Team Julia Pascal | Writer and Director Carmen Neat | Set Designer and Costume Assistant Tony Simpson | Lighting Designer Anja Fahlenkamp | Musical Composition and Arrangement Andrius Maksimavicius | Assistant Director Naomi Shanson | Stage Manager (on book) Poppy Stewart | Stage Managent placement/Assistant Stage Manager Photography by Alex Brenner David Weir writes The Westminster Mysteries novel series, including The Honourable Member for Murder and Motion for Murder. Plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), Murdering the Truth (Greenwich Theatre, London) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London).
