Reviews

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

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

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

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

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

‘this show is a triumph, wonderfully funny and bone sad’ ★★★★★ Ok, let’s just get this out of the way. Hit Machine is magnificent. From start to finish, this show is a triumph, wonderfully funny and bone sad. The writing, performances, direction, staging and the music. All of it. Everything is so very good. The standing ovation on the night (so common in the West End today it’s best to bring knee supports) was, in this case, thoroughly earned. Now that’s over, perhaps you’d like some detail? We’ll begin with Josh Radnor as Svengali on-the-turn Wes, a hit music producer facing decline after years of success and having to play host to his kid brother Alex (Noah Galvin). Wes is taciturn and welded to his phone, surfacing from his terminal busyness only to deploy tech-bro aphorisms about the importance of whole foods. He has made a cage out of his success, desperate to leave behind a ruined childhood, to never depend on anyone again. Radnor is outstanding in the role, brilliantly capturing Wes’s learned coolness and older-brother-knows-best sensibilities, while hinting at a suffocating terror within that only grows as the story develops. His comic chops, unsurprisingly, are impeccable (a talent luckily shared by the rest of the cast). The set, Wes’s flat, is perfect, a suite of pornographic aspirationalism, all lacquer and strategic ferns under ‘rich folk’ lighting. It serves as a monument to Wes’s career malaise, a desperate attempt to project success and stave off irrelevance after a lack of bankable signings (alas, he passed on Sheeran). Enter younger brother Alex, a fellow musician with Brooklynite pretentions and a pious refusal to engage with any aspects of the industry that might make him money. Ostensibly visiting to ask Wes to rescue their mother from bankruptcy, it’s soon clear that this committed self-sabotager needs help and wants what his brother has, a state neatly summed up in the memorable lines “I’m ready to sell out. I just don’t know how”. Galvin truly shines, equally hilarious and desperately vulnerable, yearning for closeness with his distant brother and much haunted by their upbringing. The chemistry between the two actors is excellent and they beautifully realise Jonathan Caren’s remarkable script, effortlessly playing off the brothers’ moments of sincerity and emotional wedgies. Then bad news. Wes’s much needed new signing Defy the Leader (an electric Khalil Madovi), caught amidst a media storm over a public scrap/pretzel robbery, is having issues in the studio and shows up at the flat for a crisis meeting. His arrival only accelerates the underlying tensions. Shining as conflicted wunderkind Defy, Madovi brings a magnetic stillness and presence to a musician on the edge of giga-fame, firmly resisting Wes’s efforts to pigeonhole him into a sellably violent caricature. Madovi’s virtuoso talent has him doubling as sound designer on Hit Machine, also providing additional music and lyrics and he is nothing short of brilliant in an end of play ‘live show’. When Defy prefers Alex’s overnight bedroom beats to Wes’s painstakingly marketised efforts, a showdown is unavoidable and comes in an exchange of the atomic cruelty reserved to siblings and war criminals. Then a heartbreaking finale, in which these two men regress to the boys who lived in terror of a violent father. Radnor and Galvin’s tenderness is almost painful as they slowly reach back for one another, to exorcise their past and begin again. Overall Hit Machine is a beautiful, hilarious exploration of trauma and family tension and is deeply embedded in a genuine love for and appreciation of music. All three cast members are themselves musicians and coupled with the script and Daniel Bailey’s tight and assured direction, the show is remarkable for its-into-the-weeds exploration of creativity and artistic expression in the face of commercial pressure. The original music from Ben Harper and CJ Harper is stellar and adds real authenticity. Not much else to say. There’s Sun Tzu jokes, onstage skipping and a row over San Pellegrino. What more could you want? HIT MACHINE At Soho Theatre 8 July – 15 August BOX OFFICE https://sohotheatre.com/events/hit-machine/ Written by Jonathan Caren Original Music by Ben Harper and CJ Harper Directed by Daniel Bailey Starring Josh Radnor Noah Galvin & Khalil Madovi Photography: Bautista Araya

'The wealth of ideas and theatrical styles at play is both a strength and a weakness.‘ ★★★ ½ ‘Welcome to Tabula Rasa’, a soothing voice croons. ‘We're so glad you're here.’ Then the ambient music cuts, and screams, gunshots and electric shocks ring out. Four strangers, trapped in a liminal space, with no memory of how they got there. Who are they, why are they there and most importantly—how can they get out? The voice has informed us that they need to ‘surrender to their true power’. If you think that sounds vaguely ominous, you're on the right track. Tabula Rasa is an ensemble piece, created by recent graduates of Fourth Monkey. The script is Ella Brock's, but the company has tackled the directing and devising together. Does ensemble directing sound chaotic? Not here, where the result is stylish and slick. The set is as simple as can be—a bright line encircling the space, a table and some chairs—with sound and light working overtime. Transitions are flawless, shifts dynamic. There's a tongue-in-cheek vibe to the costumes and props. It's amazing how much humour you can get out of a blood-drenched sock. Brock's script allows each performer to shine: Oliver Manley's earnest straight man contrasts nicely with Liam Hurley's sarcastic, sex-crazed Buddhist. Mai Worth's sweet romantic clashes with Brock's own tightly wound vegan. All four have standout moments, and harmonise beautifully in the frequent movement sequences. Hurley's physical comedy deserves a special mention. This is a show that electrocutes and shoots its characters cheerfully, usually for comedic effect. It uses its artificial entrapment to tackle a range of moral dilemmas, and when things get too dark, Céline Dion or Bridget Jones come to the rescue. The wealth of ideas and theatrical styles at play is both a strength and a weakness: individually, each sequence is delightful. A dreamlike choreography near the end, dipped in red light, is a particular standout. But it also means that the show as a whole sometimes reads like a series of excellently executed drama exercises. The parts don't quite add up to the arc we need, the payoff remains a little too vague to truly hit home. If this show has a future life (and it should), some darlings may need to be sacrificed. Tabula Rasa is this ensemble's first piece. Let's hope they create some more. Written by Ella Brock Directed by Blank Slate Theatre Company Cast Oliver Manley, Ella Brock, Liam Hurley, Mai Worth Produced by Blank Slate Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blankslate_tc/

‘Pretty special’ ★★★★ ½ Families fall out but love each other. They bear grudges. Parents feel guilty about children and children, as they grow up, resent parents. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? Human nature hasn’t changed much in the two and a half millennia since Aeschylus penned his trilogy in which a family takes those feelings to extremes. Simon Stone’s modern version – effectively a three act play – is one of the most arresting pieces of drama you’re likely to see this year. He starts with a family arguing about a 21 st birthday party they’re preparing for in prosperous middle-class Sevenoaks. It ends, three and a half hours later with a lot of blood, severe mental disturbance and a cast so wrought by what they’ve just done that they can barely smile at curtain call. Lizzie Clachan’s set is one of the cleverest designs I’ve ever seen. It gives us a complete two storey house on the revolve complete with kitchen, sitting room, utility, bedrooms, bathroom, hallway and staircase. Most of the action takes place inside behind glass (all actors mic’d) except when they’re on the doorstep or in the garden. We look in as outsiders and can see characters going about their business in other rooms as the main action takes place in a different space. And, as a device to ensure that it feels totally three dimensional, we are continually and deliberately disconcerted by the frequent rotating and shifts of focus. And that, of course, also allows the presumably very busy, backstage team to adjust furniture and props in the rooms we can’t, at that moment, see. The quality of acting from the cast of nine plus a handful of understudies in minor roles, is remarkable. All are so powerful that the characters they portray linger long after you leave the theatre. Stand-outs include Mary-Louise Parker as Montie, the Clytemnestra figure who murders her husband (David Morrisey as Christopher – good) because she can’t forgive him for the death of their daughter. Parker finds intensity and complexity in a woman torn apart by grief, anger and passion. And it’s rivetingly painful to watch. Tom Glynn-Carney is glitteringly good as Augie – the son who has an Oasis poster in his bedroom and plays the guitar rather well – but gradually morphs into a deeply troubled psychotic murderer incarcerated in an institution and haunted by his father. And there’s a magnificent performance from Rosie Sheehy as Alice, loosely representing Electra. She starts as a lippy twenty-one-year-old (hilarious take-off of her father’s accent) and develops into a serious, often deeply distressed, young woman working hard to improve the world. Somehow Sheehy ages before our eyes. Stone’s script neatly and imaginatively comes up with plausible twentieth century reasons for some of the tensions. Christopher works for his brother, Mel (Lloyd Hutchinson – strong) in a huge international tech firm which is, it emerges, providing ethically questionable equipment to war zones. When the plot requires Augie to disappear, he is sent to, and deeply traumatised by, Afghanistan. Lloyd Hutchinson becomes a Kent police officer, and subtly absorbs some of the quasi-chorus role. It’s profoundly moving, beautifully staged and often very funny. I have only two minor caveats about this electrifying show. First, Stone’s dialogue is impressively observed but it sometimes takes naturalism too far. Characters are often very angry and then they shout over each other – as people do. The trouble is that if you try to replicate that in theatre the audience cannot hear what is actually being said. Second the plotting includes many time shifts, forward and back. Although, these are clearly signalled in surtitles: Ten years later, four years earlier and so on, it isn’t always easy to remember exactly where we are in the chronology. But it’s still unmissable. Photography: Johan Persson The Oresteia Aeschylus, reworked and directed by Simon Stone At Bridge Theatre, Southwark 3 July – 19 September 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.bridgetheatre.co.uk/whats-on/the-oresteia/ Writer and director Simon Stone is joined set designer Lizzie Clachan, lighting designer Nick Schlieper, and casting director Jessica Ronane CDG. Cast Mary-Louise Parker Montie Mary-Louise Parker David Morrissey Christopher David Morrissey Tom Glynn-Carney Augie Tom Glynn-Carney Rosie Sheehy Alice Rosie Sheehy Lloyd Hutchinson Melville Lloyd Hutchinson John Macmillan Jerome John Macmillan Archie Madekwe Lorenzo Archie Madekwe Alyth Ross Jenny Alyth Ross Rakhee Thakrar Chandra Rakhee Thakrar Seán Donegan Understudy Christopher & Melville Seán Donegan George Renshaw Understudy Augie George Renshaw Andy Umerah Understudy Lorenzo & Jerome Andy Umerah Emily Waters Understudy Alice, Chandra & Jenny Emily Waters Kirsty Yates Understudy Montie Kirsty Yates Creative Team writer & director Simon Stone after Aeschylus & Others producer Wouter van Ransbeek set designer Lizzie Clachan lighting designer Nick Schlieper casting director Jessica Ronane CDG sound designer Peter Rice costume designer Emma White music by Katrina Rose production manager Jim Leaver associate director Benedict Crosby associate lighting designer Guy Jones costume supervisor Anna Josephs props supervisor Lily Mollgaard fight director Sam Lyon-Behan

‘Left wanting more? That’s hardly a bad thing.’ ★★★ ½ The conceit is simple. Three (sort-of) schoolfriends wake up in an unknown locked room next to a former classmate they scarcely remember. A gun is found, alongside a note promising that within an hour one must die, or all will. So follows an enjoyable yomp through teenage amorality, bullying, and the philosophical worth of an individual life. There is an inevitability to proceedings. Despite all initial arguments to the contrary, this is only going one way - we don’t need a certain Russian to know that gun is getting fired – but it’s an enjoyable experience all the same. The cellar-like space, stripped bare of Flymo’s and old Christmas lights, clearly amps up the pressure, as do the slow reveals of past cruelty and lonerish oddness of Matthew (Adam Walker-Kavanagh). Our disbelief suspension faculties are tested at times, largely by the supposedly private expository duologues conducted in the corners of a room smaller than a Zone 1 Studio, used to quickly establish the simmering tensions between Benny (Max Luck), Elsie (Maisie Bagley) and Ali (Adele Marie). Likewise, Matthew’s outsider status and designation as terminal pigtail-pullee suggest an obviously deeper role in proceedings, an initial suspicion that is never truly challenged and ultimately proves correct. That being said, the illusion holds, and Robert Emlyn Slater’s script is genuinely funny, pacy and the good kind of bleak, with real moments of tension. The excellent cast delivers throughout. Luck and Bagley conjure a depressingly believable former couple, setting aside their imminent demise to obsess over break-up accountability and/or bicker with Marie’s Ali, who proves a delightful pot-stirring chaos agent, almost tragically unable to understand why she does what she does. Walker-Kavanagh is just wonderful as Matthew, faultlessly conducting proceedings and providing the biggest moments of levity and threat. Lorna Hale’s direction is also first-rate, with a clear respect for both the performers and audience, ensuring the regular jokes and pop culture references don’t come at the expense of terror. Throughout, there was a joyful sense of behind-the-scenes trust and collaboration. The Cabin started off as a ten-minute rehearsed reading and to a certain extent still feels unfinished. The ending is rushed and while the denouement raises interesting questions about online revenge culture and the legacies of social isolation, there is no time for these to be explored. In the end though, with the superb acting and direction, we can easily forgive those sins, and this work would shine as a fringe show in Edinburgh or somewhere more affordable. Left wanting more? That’s hardly a bad thing. Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/the_cabin_play/ Written by Robert Emlyn Slater Directed by Lorna Hale Cast Max Luck Maisie Bagley Adele Marie Adam Walker-Cavanagh Photography: Rhodri James