Reviews

 'The ensemble works together seamlessly.‘ ★★★ ½ ‘This is NOT what we rehearsed.’ This is a production that takes its title literally. Think Shakespeare crossed with The Play That Goes Wrong , and you'll have a pretty good idea of what you're letting yourself in for. Lights fail, wigs fall off and a mop ends up in a starring role. The (much shorter) Comedy of Errors is a play within a play. It is the saga of The Penge West Queer (+ allies!) over 30's (in spirit) Baking and Crafts Club (™) tackling one of Shakespeare's less-loved comedies. Stage fright, missing actors and a tendency to eat the props can't stop them from doing their very, very best to make it through to the end. We are welcomed by the frazzled director (Kara Stanley) handing out programmes. Of course she's not a real director, she explains, and the actors aren't professional and why the hell did nobody turn the house lights off? The audience is roped in from the start, the asides are constant and it's all supremely silly. That last bit is definitely also Shakespeare's fault, because the plot is nonsensical. The actors kick off with a puppet show to try to explain what's happening: Two pairs of identical twins are separated at birth. Each twin has the same name as his brother. When grown, Antipholus 1 (Alexander Costas-Christophi) and his servant Dromio 1 (Meg MacMillan) set out to find Antipholus 2 (Max Easton) and Dromio 2 (Jodie Garnish). They accidentally run across Antipholus 2's wife (Stanley) and her beautiful sister (Frederick Arnot). Confusions and shenanigans ensue. Is it gossamer-thin? Sure. Is it even more confusing when cut down to an hour? Probably. Does anyone ever become emotionally invested in any part of the plot? Not at all. But nobody really cares, because everyone is having a lovely time. The ensemble works together seamlessly, and each performer is given a chance to shine. Frederick Arnot makes a smashing temptress, while Alexander Costas-Christophi could easily be a teleported Bottom from A Midsummer Night's Dream. Meg MacMillan makes the journey from wide-eyed stage fright to impassioned monologuing, and Max Easton's and Jodie Garnish's (slightly) more sedate twins steady the ship (if this ship is ever steadied). The team was wise to cut this down to an hour. Any longer and the sparkle might start to fade. (I cannot emphasise enough how little the plot matters.) As it is, grab a pint (or three) and settle in. Team Directors: Kara Stanley and Jodie Garnish Performers: Kara Stanley, Jodie Garnish, Frederick Arnot, Alexander Costas-Christophi, Meg MacMillan and Max Easton

'leaves you smiling and has some strong moments, but it is not (yet) working as a whole‘ ★★ ‘I am a grown-up individual, playing an 8-year-old. I need my space.’ Two ‘children’ (one over 6 foot, with deep stubble), dressed in red braces, stare fidgeting out at the audience. Silence. More silence. Then giggles. ‘Today for the science project, we are presenting human anatomy.’ And thus begins the story of a brother and sister who are the despair of their parents and their teachers. Like their fairytale originals, this Hansal (Sachin Sharma) and Geetal (Shreya Parashar) find themselves turned away from home and banished—not to a deadly forest, but to a boarding school, to mend their trickster ways. Sharma and Parashar have performed together for a long time, and it shows in their easy rapport. But although Hansal and Geetal leaves you smiling and has some strong moments, it is not (yet) working as a whole. The production is at its best when it leans into surrealism—a slow-motion thumb war set to Mozart's Requiem is a particular highlight. At one point, a witch wanders on and considers the dinner menu. ‘Would you like your carrots with yourself?’ she asks Hansal politely. But this interactive clown show, as it bills itself, doesn't go all-out enough to abandon claims to themes and storylines. And those themes are still a bit of a muddle. Points are made about identity and culture (‘It's Geetal, not Gretel!’)—parenting (‘Are you proud of me, Daddy?’)—and childhood dreams. The siblings occasionally stare longingly at the phone, waiting for their parents to call, but there is no real tension, no real stakes. A prior production by the duo used clowning to offer a biting satire of colonialism, and a similar clarity of purpose would have been welcome here. Structural tweaks could have helped as well. Some jokes are overplayed or over-explained. The audience interactions at first required much coaxing; early group work might have sped up the timeline on everyone feeling comfortable joining in. For once that point was reached, the performers' improv skills shone. Hansal and Geetal feels like a duo workshopping their new material, with both the charm and pitfalls that implies. Part of Voila Festival  BOX OFFICE Creator/Performer: Shreya Parashar Creator/Performer: Sachin Sharma

‘Together, the two works form an overwhelming experience’ ★★★★★ Oh. My. God. What did I just see? There are performances you don’t need to understand — you simply feel them. TWAWSI , a double bill by ACE Dance and Music, is exactly that. It is devastating that it ran in London for just one night; work of this scale, precision and emotional force deserves a long run. The first piece, choreographed by Serge Aimé Coulibaly, is one of the most astonishing works of dance I have ever seen. A relentless sequence of “wow” moments, performed by dancers with extraordinary control, grace and intention. Even their breathing — their moans, gasps, exertion — becomes choreography. The piece evokes the chaos of apocalypse, yet the bodies onstage move with a visceral, desperate beauty: mundane gestures flipping into impossible shapes, speed dissolving into stillness, construction collapsing into destruction. It is human resilience made physical. There was also a curtain raiser by Rambert students before the second half — a burst of raw, authentic energy, with an impressively crafted large-scale ensemble composition. The second piece, choreographed by Vincent Mantsoe, shifts the world entirely. Set against a rough wall that casts shadows, this work draws from softer, curved vocabularies. Where the first piece felt fierce and masculine, this felt deeply feminine — spacious, spiritual, elemental. If Coulibaly’s piece was the storm, Mantsoe’s was the quiet pulse underneath it. Together, the two works form an overwhelming experience: technically masterful, emotionally charged, and performed by dancers working at the absolute height of their craft. TWAWSI - The World As We See It... ACE Dance and Music Cast & Creatives Artistic Director: Gail Parmel MBE CEO: Ian Parmel Associate Director: Iona Waite Choreographers: Serge Aimé Coulibaly and Vincent Mantsoe Lighting Design: James Mackenzie Scenographer: Eve MartinCostume Design & Maker: Heidi Luker Production Manager: James McArthur Senior Producer: Juliet Thomas Rehearsal Director: Kennedy Muntanga Dancers: Georgia Collier, Camila Di Aloi Fandos, Lihle Mfene, Mthoko Mkhwanazi, Thabang Motaung, Vuyelwa Phota, Sarah Santos

‘Thought-provoking but lacklustre’ ★★ ½ The theme of this inconclusive, oddly dated play is homelessness. Cheryl (Emma Riches) and Tim (Ed Jobbing) are a pair of teachers who own a Victorian terraced house in Tooting. One Friday night they are invaded – almost literally because he has found the key and let himself in – by a homeless man, Eric (Peter Saracen). The implausible scenario is that he had done the washing up and cooked their dinner. In the end, liberal folk who donate to charities regularly, they reluctantly agree to let him stay one night, Predictably it ends up being a lot longer. Alan Bennett did in first with Lady in the Van (1999). Eric has mental health issues, talks in a faint whine and repeats himself a lot. At the same time he’s believably and manipulatively cunning and threatens to kill himself if they throw him out. It’s a pleasing, well observed performance. And Emma Riches convincingly presents an articulate educated woman, good at negotiating. Her scenes with Eric are the best thing in the play. We get a clear vision of how good Cheryl must be at school dealing with troubled youngsters. Jobbing’s character is less sympathetic and at times the acting seems a bit overegged. The fourth character – much smaller role - is Lisa Minichiello’s Karin, Cheryl’s university friend who works for a homeless charity but who can’t do much to help. There are too many short scenes and clumsy shifts in this play involving much fussing with props and furniture. It should be more streamlined than it is (although characters wearing different clothes does indicate passage of time) and certainly doesn’t need the interruption of an interval. Moreover there are textual inconsistencies and plot holes. What time does Eric intrusively bring breakfast in bed to Cheryl and Tim? At one point 1am is mentioned. At another it’s 5am. And where does Eric get the money from to keep buying paint, wallpaper, pictures, runner bean seed and Fray Bentos meat pies? It’s also hard to believe that a youngish man like Tim would be reading an old fashioned newspaper. Surely in 2025 he’d have a digital version? There’s a poignant plot twist at the end of ‘Starfish’ which I didn’t see coming and that’s effective. We’re also left realising that there is no solution to homelessness unless, as Cheryl half seriously suggests everyone with a spare room takes in a homeless person which is not going to happen. In a rather obviously contrived didactic moment the play informs us that there are 300,000 homeless people in this country which is equivalent to the entire population of Brighton and numbers are rising all the time. If only there were an answer. STARFISH by Richard Fitchett, Directed by Lucy Appleby at Bread and Roses, Clapham 11 – 15 November 2025 BOX OFFICE https://www.breadandrosestheatre.co.uk/whats-on.html

‘Beautifully observed hilarity’ ★★★★ This two hander was inspired by the creators running a cramped catering caravan on a busy film set and it’s terrific fun. Half the stage (right) comprises a realistic catering kitchen in a capsule so that the actors can run in and out of it, take orders and use the “outside” space which is the rest of the stage. Designers Alfie Frost and Tash Tudor have done a good job with this.  And there’s a lot of beautifully observed hilarity in Harry Petty’s play. This film set is full of outlandish characters with huge egos and Ollie Hart and Harry Warren, both fine performers, play them all with a wide range of voices, the odd hat and a couple of pairs of glasses. At one point Hart does a three way conversation all by himself and it’s very funny. Yes, we can all sympathise with their having to deal with “Clipboard Claire” who officiously guards health and safety and eventually closes their caravan because someone has put a dog poo bag in the bin. Then there is the customer so entitled she jumps the queue and asks for six ludicrously complicated drinks – a familiar stereotype. Even the elderly director who has an accident in the loo so Olly lends him a pair of trousers has a ring of truth to it. It rattles on with as much realism as romp. And the asides to audience are nicely judged. And yet, like all good comedies, there are some serious issues underneath to give the play a bit of depth. Harry’s relationship has just broken down and he’s hurting. He and Ollie exasperate each other but the play celebrates the strength of their friendship. It’s Harry’s catering business but he really wants Ollie to work with him. And we feel the dichotomy he faces at the end – until an unexpected piece of information ends the play and we all laugh again. This entertaining, pleasingly original show runs just over an hour and is well worth catching. WRAP PARTY Written and directed by Harry Petty at Jack Studio Theatre 11 – 15 November 2025 BOX OFFICE https://brockleyjack.co.uk/jackstudio-entry/wrap-party/ Cast: Ollie Hart and Harry Warren Written and directed by Harry Petty Contributors: Ollie Hart & Harry Warren Set Designers: Alfie Frost & Tash Tudor Lighting Designer: Conor Costelloe Sound Designer: Lauren Ayton Composer: Josh Tidd Graphic & Digital Media Designer: Luke O’Reilly Stills and Videography: Toby Everett & Alicia Pocock Producers: Lucy Ellis-Keeler & Tara Jennett Presented by You Guys Productions Ltd. Photography: Toby Everett

‘A work of great intention and heart … but an uneven attempt to transform testimony into ritual performance’ ★★★ There are eight performers on the intimate stage of the Drayton Arms, surrounded by scattered brown leaves, dangling washing lines, and a backdrop banner warning the audience “not to expect any hope” in red letters. The scene evokes an atmosphere close to ‘Inferno’ — both domestic and desolate. ‘Diaspora Inferno’ is a physical theatre piece by an all-female ensemble that ambitiously reimagines exile, womanhood, and migration through movement, multilingual storytelling, and live sound. The sincerity of the team’s vision is unquestionable; their intention to honour the testimonies of displaced women is palpable throughout. However, the execution doesn’t always meet the weight of its ambition. The performance, which largely unfolds without words except for fragmented testimonials in foreign languages, leans heavily on the audience’s willingness to decode its symbolism. While this alienating effect is clearly deliberate, it risks leaving the viewer distanced rather than drawn in. The dramaturgy often feels opaque, and the movement vocabulary could benefit from greater clarity and variation. The storytelling would be strengthened by a more refined physical structure and nuanced ensemble dynamics. One wishes the lighting design had been used more actively to guide emotional shifts and focus. A work of great intention and heart, ‘Diaspora Inferno’ stands as a sincere but uneven attempt to transform testimony into ritual performance. With clearer physical dramaturgy and more confident pacing, it could evolve into something truly powerful. Further details and box office https://www.thedraytonarmstheatre.co.uk/diaspora-inferno

‘full of expressive original character and a style of its own’ ★★★★★ Alchemy is a deeply personal double bill, presented by Liam Francis Dance Company, choreographed by Liam Francis, a former Rambert dancer and Dance Europe ‘Dancer of the year’ nominee. The sense of heritage and roots was very pronounced visually throughout the performance. In his solo ‘ Lyre Liar’, Liam Francis presented a combination of spoken word, a masterclass in dance mentioning the late Gus Solomons Jr. and excerpts of movement pieces he performed in for dancers and choreographers who have influenced his art expression, we name Merce Cunningham (Rainforest), Sidi Larbi Cherkaoui (Faune) and Kate Prince (Into the Hoods). Represented by the several layers of lycra catsuit and two-pieces dance costumes worn by the artist, the weight of leadership, guidance and training passed down from the mentors and role models slowly and surely starts peeling off, as Francis sheds one by one, with intervals of intermittent dance pieces, the identities he has embodied throughout his journey as a dancer. Left exposed and vulnerable, he then unexpectedly begins wearing them again, mismatched, imbalanced and disorderly, but the end result is a beautiful flowing colourful garment, full of expressive original character and a style of its own. Francis has discovered a new identity, a form of rebirth, parallel to the sound of the Lyrebird mimicking a baby crying, which the audience had the fortunate opportunity to see and hear on the giant digital screen. Liam Francis is joined on stage by three other young black performers, Eloy Cojal Mestre, Jacob Wye, Stephen Quildan, and together they formed a dynamic ensemble quartet ‘A Body of Rumours’ moving through a complex choreography that draws from ballet, hip hop, and contemporary dance. From the apprehension of isolation, rivalry and comparison, their dance journey evolves and transforms into a celebration of movement, connection and brotherhood. Set to live electronic music by composer Chloe Mason who takes centre stage behind her recording studio desk at the back of the theatre, the choreography explores the common experiences of rhythm, trust and histories shared by the four dance artists. The 90 minutes show with interval was a one night only performance supported by a multitude of national and international collaborators and wrapped with a post-show talk hosted by former dance artist and former CEO of The Place, Kenneth Olumuyima Tharp. It is clear that the dance company has a bright future ahead of them and definitely one to watch. Venue: The Place Theatre Choreographer: Liam Francis Creative Associate: Jacob Wye Performers: Eloy Cojal Mestre, Liam Francis, Jacob Wye, Stephen Quildan R&D Performer (2025): Rhys Dennis Rehearsal Director: Bruno Guillore Live Music Composer & Performer: Chloe Mason Lighting Designer: Joshie Harriette Associate Lighting Designer: Zoé RitchieT Production Manager: Zoé Ritchieh Creative Producer: Steph Bergée Photography: Nora Houguenade

‘What the 1930s might have called an absolute corker’ ★★★★ There’s a reason why the classics are the classics and that reason is that they’re good. Oh, of course, they’re of their time and might not always meet modern ideas of what’s too long or insufficiently seemly. But they put us into a particular time and place and tell us what it was like, both in what their authors consciously tell us and in what they unconsciously reveal about the way things were. EM Delafield’s Diary of a Provincial Lady, approaching its centenary, survives above all for simply being funny, sitting somewhere on the literary journey between the self-regarding, self-deprecating, self-deluding diaries of Mr Pooter and Miss Bridget Jones. Devon. The 1930s. The difficulties of maintaining a genteel lifestyle on what might be delicately termed a stretched budget, with an oblivious husband, two children of whom one might be variably proud and a set of neighbours and acquaintances whose expectations and whims must be met if appearances are to be kept up.  Ellie Ward’s and Becky Lumb’s production of this lastingly successful little gem also survives on a stretched budget – three actors to play the cavalcade of titled ladies, vicars and their wives, cooks, servants and casual acquaintances. And it’s what the 1930s might have called an absolute corker, too. Rapidly paced and quick-fire from the off with the front row of the audience co-opted as hat-stands for the primary props the actors require as their headwear changes to mark their many character shifts. All three of the cast are superb – writer/director and co-producer Ward herself (going the full Orson Welles as she stand in for a sadly indisposed Lumb) plays the provincial lady herself, coping insouciantly (or very much failing to) with the vicissitudes of life from the moment Lady Box (an imperious Rebecca Pickering) patronises her fancy dress ‘angel’ costume and the vicar’s wife needs a chat. Pickering’s array of ladies high and low (the cook ever on the verge of givin’ notice one of the several highlights) demonstrate her range; no less does Michael Ansley’s actor Jaaasper (a deity of the London stage) or monosyllabic husband or increasingly frustrated bank manager fail to demonstrate his comic timing and versatility. Nicely chosen tunes of the 1930s quietly play in the background (at least until a post-curtain vaguely ‘30s instrumental version of “All By Myself” slyly, comically and neatly brings Bridget Jones to mind once more). On the other hand, the choice to have the two children appear only as recorded voices from time to time does slow the pace a little (even if it gives the three principals a necessary breather given the sheer amount of rapid-fire dialogue perfectly delivered). It helps any production if the source material’s good, but what makes a show special is the mixture of respect for source and innovative approach. This one does that by finding the funny and not neglecting the underlying idea that most of us at some point are like ducks, seeking surface serenity while our feet are paddling furiously beneath the surface. Been a big year for Delafield revivals. A show that shows she’s worth it, and, like her more modern literary relative, that we love her, just as she is. DIARY OF A PROVINCIAL LADY By Ellie Ward, after E.M. Delafield, Directed by Ellie Ward at Bridge House Theatre, Penge – 4 to 15 November 2025 Box Office: https://thebridgehousetheatre.co.uk/shows/the-diary-of-a-provincial-lady/ Reviewer David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow), Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London) and Murdering the Truth (Greenwich Theatre). Awards include Write Now!, Scottish Community Drama Association and Constance Cox, and he’s been twice long-listed for the Bruntwood Prize.

‘Through a blend of traditional vocabulary and contemporary embodiment, Amina Khayyam reclaims Kathak as both weapon and wound.’ ★★★★ As a woman of East Asian origin, I often find myself awkwardly positioned between Western feminism and the patriarchal systems embedded in my traditional culture. I am expected to defend one to the other — without ever fully belonging to either — and often end up questioned by both. It was this tension that I experienced while watching Bibi Rukiya’s Reckless Daughter. Inspired by García Lorca’s The House of Bernarda Alba, Amina Khayyam’s new work explores how women can become the gatekeepers of patriarchy — policing and punishing other women in the name of honour and protection. Blending Kathak with modern dance, the piece unfolds a generational dialogue between obedience and rebellion. It is not a performance to simply watch, but one to study and unpack. Khayyam and her all-female ensemble reveal a tangled inheritance. For women, Kathak is both their cultural language and a mirror of constraint. Their movement carries centuries of repression and resilience — not just through narrative, but through the form itself. Kathak, which literally means “to tell a story,” was long denied to women. Excluded under ritual purity taboos until the 15th century, female dancers later re-emerged as courtesans and storytellers, only to be shamed by colonial anti-nautch campaigns and reframed by nationalist reformers as a chaste, upper-caste male art. After independence, women re-entered the form, but under the gaze of moral respectability. In the diaspora, Kathak has evolved again — as a language of agency, protest, and identity. Khayyam’s work sits precisely at this crossroads. Through a blend of traditional vocabulary and contemporary embodiment, she reclaims Kathak as both weapon and wound. Her commitment to including marginalised communities through dance expands her practice as a tool of social change. This performance carries centuries of history — translating the tangled lineage of the form into modernism and beyond. Bibi Rukiya’s Reckless Daughter is a beautifully performed, thematically rich, and quietly radical meditation on how women internalise and challenge the systems that shape them. https://aminakhayyamdance.co.uk/