Reviews

by Mariam Mathew 15 July 2025
'a wrenching story of alcohol addiction' ★★★★ ½ ‘Truth is stranger than fiction’ is a commonly bandied adage. In “The White Chip”, you realize pretty quickly that this is someone’s personal story as the details are so specific, even ludicrous. It is a wrenching story of alcohol addiction shared dramatically and without holding back the dark and dirty, as the characters sometimes struggle with the concept of truth. Steven (Ed Coleman) starts as a youth who has his first drink as a teenager and learns how to hide his love for drink (or so he thinks) over the years from family, friends, and lovers. Coleman speaks quickly and charms all members of the thrust stage as he takes us through a tour of his life and middle America to show how a Mormon boy ends up at the number one party school in the US (Florida State, if you must know) and finally on his knees. The two other actors (Mara Allen, Ashlee Irish) are a swirl of action: quickly shifting set pieces, beautifully multi-roling, and providing the banter Coleman needs to pull off what would otherwise be a very long monologue. They come to represent the many people who come into and out of his life because though Steven is the teller of the tale, there is a swarm of people both impacted by and influencing his story. Allen’s turn as his mother is particularly poignant in her own shift from the careless mother to the co-recovering alcoholic. What is interesting in this whirlwind of a story of addiction is Steven’s awe for the American playwrights who juggled alcoholism with writing some of the most lauded plays in the canon, such as Edward Albee, Eugene O’Neill, Tennessee Williams. A successful dramatist in the US, finding professional success, he is constantly pulled away by his greater love for drink. As the story returns to the concept of ‘the white chip’, representing a chance to start afresh, Steven has to confront the strength of his own desire to truly become sober and overcome himself. At times, the play reminded me of a country music song: parents hate him, wife leaves him, dog dies . He is living out Groundhog Day (the film gets a mention). Similarities exist to Duncan McMillan’s People, Places, and Things (recently reprised by Denise Gough from a decade ago) playing a main character caught in a cycle of addiction and the ending of The White Chip has a moment of intersection with this play’s fervency. I also recalled B lackout Songs by Joe White about a codependent couple who fall in love after an AA meeting. They “oscillate at a higher frequency” (direction notes) without ever ‘playing drunk’. Coleman operates at a similar frequency very effectively in his take on Steven. The set is simple, easily changeable, at times perplexing. Huge columns of chairs in the back (perhaps symbolic?) behind the sound person’s table loom and are at times pulled out. Most notable is the use of coloured lighting with the sound of a heartbeat effectively brings us back to the singularity of Steven’s choices and consequences. The blackness of the stage and the props correspond well with the darkness of Steven’s experience. Throughout this take on the orthodoxy of addiction, from the initial Mormon summer camp reboot to AA Meetings to the Jewish pair (Lenny and Stuart) who ultimately help Steven find the higher power he could trust (science), something beyond himself that could pull him out of that constant internal struggle. Once he sees that truth for himself, Steven can also remember what it is to be human, and what a beautiful thing that is. Photography: Danny Kaan BOX OFFICE Written by Sean Daniels Performed by Ed Coleman, Mara Allen, Ashlee Irish Directed by Matt Ryan Set & Costume Designer: Lee Newby Lighting Designer: Jamie Platt Sound Designer: Max Pappenheim Reviewed by Mariam Mathew
by Imo Redpath 12 July 2025
“The dialogue stings and quips” ★★★★ In his debut play BIG SHOES, Rowan Williams has created two male characters that understand how to talk about their feelings. And talk about their feelings they do: sadly, lovingly, hot-headedly. Two brothers lose their father – who was a clown (“both metaphorically and literally”) – and struggle in the wake of his death to realise their careers as comedians amongst the pressures of family, poverty and self-esteem. Their double act, the K-Hole Surgery, keeps them close as brothers, but when Jay (Rowan Williams) announces he’s leaving comedy to look after his new family, Tom (Luke Sumner) falls apart. The brothers fluctuate between love and resentment for one another, and Williams cleverly constructs a co-dependent relationship that survives alcoholism, grief and suicidal ideation. I’m making the play sound macabre. It’s not – it’s hilarious, and Luke Sumner is electric as the wild, self-important young comedian who can make a joke out of anything but will never fill his father’s big (clown) shoes. Longlisted for the Theatre503 International Playwriting Award, Williams’ play excels in its nuanced portrayal of a fraternal relationship that – despite being knocked about from all corners – always returns to a shared centre. The dialogue stings and quips as one brother leans on the other and we fully understand that they are – in life as in their double act – the “full half of the other person’s world”. Williams’ script is expertly composed, offering a unique ‘palette cleanser’ before the final, explosive scene. Sumner breaks character and riffs with the audience, as if performing his own stand-up gig, and manages to lead an orchestra of noise in canon without causing too much embarrassment among the audience, which, in London, is no small feat. Amid absurd portrayals of comedy characters such as the ‘Ham Paedophile,’ Williams carves a symbol of the brothers’ father into the play: his red clown nose. At times, Jay can’t bring himself to touch it; at others, he tries to snatch it off of Tom. The red nose seems to act as a kind of permission from their father: a license to fully embrace comedy and all that comes with it. Whether that’s a wise idea is questioned throughout the play, as it explores alcoholism, depression and the feeling of always being the underdog: “In comedy, as in life, you are still an amateur.” While the production perhaps could have pushed further, both Summer and Williams match the script’s brilliance in a play that is equal parts honest, vulnerable and funny. BIG SHOES by Rowan Williams Autonymic Theatre co-production with Isabelle Kirk The Hope Theatre 8 th – 12 th July 2025 Box office: https://www.ticketsource.co.uk/whats-on/207-upper-street/the-hope-theatre/big-shoes/e-mobkaj CREATIVE Director – Tom Greaves Stage Manager – Bea Hart CAST Younger – Luke Sumner Older – Rowan Williams Social media: @autonymictheatre; @rowantwilliams; @flukesummer; @tdrgreaves
by David Weir 10 July 2025
‘thoroughly charming if not quite Noel Coward ’ ★★★ The thing about hugely popular authors is you never quite know who’s going to make it beyond their own time and into posterity. After all, in their time Edward Bulwer-Lytton and Benjamin Disraeli sometimes sold quite as many books as Charles Dickens did, but he still fills long slabs of bookshelves, while one of them’s remembered as an unusual Prime Minister and the other, if at all, largely for giving Charlie Brown’s beagle Snoopy the phrase “It was a dark and stormy night”. And so to E.M. Delafield, author of numerous books and plays including the charming and lastingly famous (and still in print) Diary of a Provincial Lady, whose 1930s play earns a welcome revival at the White Bear, its first in London since the 1940s. We’re in the country home of paper mill owner Freddie (Jonathan Henwood) and his very bored wife Caroline (Becky Lumb) for a three-day stay by her sister and the man she may or may not be about to be engaged to. Life is hum and life is drum as Freddie reads his paper and smokes his pipe while Caroline dreams of romance and nights at Alhambra. Until the disruptive machinations of Jill (Rebecca Pickering) bring Owen (Jonathan Davenport) a little closer to Caroline than might be entirely seemly, causing chaos in the home until order is restored as Freddie’s unseeing eyes begin to widen. This is light comedy of the charmingly frivolous kind with a stronger psychological undertow than that sometimes suggests. It’s nicely staged, lit and sound-effected on a simple set with well-designed period costumes and touches including newspaper, pipe and telephone. And it’s funny and touching, exploring the tiresome absence of choices that faced women in the inter-war years, an age when marriage and children was pretty much the defining life choice. Becky Lumb in the lead is the heart and soul of the production, capturing both the boredom of her stultifying life in the country and the hope of her dreams of something better. Her performance swoops and rises with her emotions and she manages even to suggest a lingering love for a stolidly unimaginative husband who really does try her sorely without ever being anything other than faithfully tedious. There’s strong support from Pickering as her sister, though some unevenness in the variety of acting styles is on show, and perhaps a mild absence of pace in picking up cues for lines that deserve more laughs than they sometimes get. What the play isn’t is what the programme optimistically hopes – proof that Delafield didn’t deserve to be overwhelmed by her contemporary Noel Coward in the long-lasting fame and production stakes. But it’s witty and straightforward story-telling, psychologically sharp without being surprising or biting in the way that the best of Coward is. And while some individual lines are in the Coward class, the mechanics of the plot (slightly obvious contrivances to get people on and off the stage when they need or don’t need to hear things – a whisky to fetch here, a visitor book to search for there) sometimes show a little too clearly. And so, it’s a thoroughly charming show even if not quite Noel Coward, but given that very few things are Noel Coward, a very warm and pleasant way to pass an evening. TO SEE OURSELVES by EM Delafield Directed by Luke Dixon White Bear, Kennington 1 to 12 July 2025 Box Office: https://www.whitebeartheatre.co.uk/whatson/to-see-ourselves Reviewer David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London). Those and others performed across Scotland, Wales and England, and in Australia, Canada, Switzerland and Belgium. Awards include Write Now Festival prize, Constance Cox award, SCDA best depiction of Scottish life, and twice Bruntwood longlisted.
by Susan Elkin 10 July 2025
‘all three actors, two of whom do a lot of witty doubling, are strong’ ★★★ Based on a true story. this unlikely romp takes us to the Bronx during prohibition and the Depression. A group of very hard up people decide to kill a larger-than-life Irish drunk upon whom they have taken out insurance policies. The trouble is he won’t die. They try alcohol poisoning through excess whisky, methanol, contaminated oysters, exposure and hit and run – among other things but he goes on bouncing back. Of course eventually they get caught and the piece is framed by two of them writing their confession in a prison cell in the hope that honesty might get them clemency. It’s a three hander and all three actors, two of whom do a lot of witty doubling, are strong. There is particularly pleasing work from Stefani Ariza who plays the boss of the speakeasy where most of the action happens – and many other roles. She is impressively versatile. Bryan Pilkington gives a colourful performance as Malloy – mostly drunk and singing Irish folk songs – and morphs into other characters convincingly. Will Croft as Francis Pasqua is the anchor man who speaks direct to the audience and is a satisfactory foil to the other two. Dan Bottomley’s sound design creates atmosphere and the basic set device – a sort of counter which becomes a bench and car, among other things, is neatly contrived. It’s a lighthearted piece which Adamson has clearly had fun writing. And it’s a commendably quirky idea for a play. The trouble is that it’s meant to be a comedy and, although it’s mildly entertaining, it really isn’t very funny. Moreover at 90 minutes straight through it’s too long for its subject matter. Photography: Cam Harle THE UNKILLABLE MIKE MALLOY Written and directed by Luke Adamson Bridge House Theatre, Penge 8 – 26 July 2025 BOX OFFICE Cast Will Croft Stefani Ariza Bryan Pilkington Artistic Team Director Luke Adamson Writer Luke Adamson Producer The Bridge House Theatre. Executive Producers: Simon Jeal, John Handscombe, Ju Owens, David Owens, Ellie Ward, Graham Telford, Tim Connery Lighting Designer Luke Adamson Sound Designer Dan Bottomley
by Susan Elkin 9 July 2025
‘Passionate and gripping’ ★★★ Malorie Blackman’s passionate young adult novel, Noughts and Crosses (2001) presents a what-if world in which white people (Noughts) are marginalised in a casually black supremacist environment, ruled by the Crosses. Within that framework she presents a version of the Romeo and Juliet story. It’s desperately uncomfortable reading for a white person as it forces you to reverse your preconceptions in almost every line because you constantly have to remind yourself who these people are and which “side” they’re on. It’s a novel which bravely tackles the fundamentals of racism. The problem with dramatising it is that it’s visually obvious who is black and who is white so three quarters of the work is done for you and that lessens the impact and the work the “receiver” has to do. I thought this when I first saw this Dominic Cooke version when the RSC staged it in Stratford in 2007 before touring it in 2008. The same applied to the 2020 BBC TV serial. And it remains true for this open air theatre staging. The other issue is that this was originally targeted at young people around 12-16 and that’s fine, obviously. As an English teacher, I discussed it with many classes and the students found it intensely powerful. It means, though, that the message is so didactically rammed home on stage that it feels a bit clunky and shallow for an adult audience. Painful jokes such as the word “whitemail” (rather than blackmail) and the poor white girl who can only get a black sticking plaster when her forehead is cut by the thrown stone, seem laboured. Nonetheless there’s plenty to admire in this production which mostly grips although the second half is too long. Corrina Brown as Sephy, the chirpy Cross daughter of the authoritarian deputy prime minister is attractively childlike at the start and develops her character convincingly to a mature, decisive 20 year old beset by tragedy but with very tangible hope for the future (no spoilers). Noah Valentine, who has very little stage experience, brings pleasing freshness to the troubled, marginalised, hurt and ultimately angry Callum – a Nought with complex torn loyalties who eventually becomes a member of a political terrorist movement. Behind them, as in Shakespeare, are two families with many problems and a firm reminder that wealth and privilege do not equate to happiness. Among the supporting cast there’s a fine performance from Kate Kordel as Callum’s anguished mother, Meggie, and Jessica Layde gets Sephy’s dismissive but ultimately caring sister Minerva nicely. Director Tinuke Craig makes imaginative use of Colin Richmond’s set – all concrete walkways and lurking places on three levels. The bomb in the shopping centre is pretty effective: cue for an awful lot of smelly stage smoke. And there’s an immaculately directed, “tasteful” sex scene – I presume school parties are expected and even the most prudish teacher or parent would find nothing to object to here. NOUGHTS AND CROSSES Based on the novel by Malorie Blackman, Adapted by Dominic Cooke Directed by Tinuke Craig Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre 28 June – 26 July 2025 BOX OFFICE
by Nilgün Yusuf 8 July 2025
‘Masterfully constructed, memorable and moving.’ ★★★★ Told in reverse chronology, Run Sister Run moves backwards through time. With impressionistic, contemporary direction from Marlie Haco, we start in classic theatre territory, with a middle-class couple having a clipped barney. Mother and wife, Connie manically arranges flowers, drinks gin and pops anti-anxiety medication. Father, Adrian, is patronising, supercilious and believes any problem can be solved by throwing money at it. Teenage son, Jack, played by Charlie Beavan proffers the right combination of hormone-addled rage and vulnerability. He’s been dumped by his girlfriend for their incompatibility, but she is pregnant and intends to keep it. There’s lots of braying, swearing and concern about how things look. It’s not a family you like or warm to but this this is just the tip of the iceberg. When Auntie Ursula unexpectedly turns up, it’s hard to believe she’s Connie’s sister - they are so different. Ursula has a thick Irish accent, seems impetuous and imaginative, a real live wire. But she must be something of a liability because Connie wants her out the house as quickly as possible; there are some important guests arriving for an upwardly mobile dinner party and there could be a promotion in it for Rat Man. How could two sisters be so different and what caused them to be so far apart? As the play spools backwards through four decades, with performers literally walking backwards through the space, more light is shed on their lives and with each scene, a different part of the puzzle falls into place. Masterfully constructed, memorable and moving, Run Sister Run explores the blood and bonds that can tie siblings together. It looks at what family means, what it can mean, and how the contours of family change and evolve over time. All the performances are strong and the cast crackles with energy. The dynamic between the sisters is particularly well-drawn out with strong dialogue, interpretive dance, and games. Jo Herbert gives a nuanced performance of multi-faceted Connie, while Kelly Gough is an irrepressible force of nature as Ursula. Adrian’s character is written flatter and more mono-dimensional. Theo Fraser Steele embodies the worst kind of smug, self-satisfied middle management. Initially marked out as the antagonist, far greater villainous forces have shaped the lives and destines of the sisters - including one big secret that binds them forever. Intense, emotional, funny, unexpected, Run Sister Run is one hour forty with no interval. While it could be shorter, some of the exchanges are very long, this play maintains momentum and allows the audience to immerse themselves in this whole, extraordinary family drama and love story. Run Sister Run by Chloë Moss was the winner of the Plaines Plough Award in 2020 but the global pandemic meant only a few performances were presented then. Five years later, this shiny update from Double Telling is at the Arcola for its long-awaited London premier. With a freshly composed, stirring soundtrack by composer Ákos Lustyik and talented ensemble, Run Sister Run demonstrates time does not wither great drama, and this is certainly that. REVIEW: RUN SISTER RUN by Chloë Moss Directed by Marlie Haco Arcola Theatre, 24 Ashwin Street, E8 3DL 2nd July – 26th July, 2025 BOX OFFICE CAST Jo Herbert Kelly Gough Theo Fraser Steele Charlie Beaven Set & Costume Design by: Tomás Palmer Composed by: Ákos Lustyik Lighting Design by: Alex Forey Produced by: Toby Mather
by Annie Power 7 July 2025
“there is a kernel of something worthwhile here” ★★★☆☆ There’s no denying that IVORIES, now running at the Old Red Lion Theatre, is a production steeped in atmosphere and ambition. Set in a dilapidated old house, the evocative set immediately draws you in; the dated decor and torn wallpaper, rain tapping persistently, a radio murmuring faintly in the background, plunges us straight into the eerie decay of a crumbling house and the fraying relationships within it. It’s a richly designed space that evokes an unsettling sense of place - claustrophobic, decaying, and ripe with unease. From the outset there’s the promise of something lurking just out of view, something quietly unhinged, but while the production design builds a sense of dread, sadly, the script struggles to maintain momentum. The story orbits around Sloane, an emotionally volatile playwright; it’s their family home in ruins as they await the death of their Grandmother - their only surviving relative. Sloane and their husband Gwyn are trapped in a love triangle with Gwyn’s ex-boyfriend Beckham, who visits them under the proviso of helping put the house up for sale. Their entangled history creates fertile ground for drama, but throws the pacing off, particularly in the first half. Rather than heightening tension, the dialogue repeats the same emotional beats which saps energy from the piece without advancing the story. Rather than deepening our understanding of the characters, it renders them increasingly insufferable. A decaying house, a troubled marriage, weird happenings and the unsettling presence of unseen neighbours acting oddly should be compelling grounds for a good horror story, and yet the play takes far too long to get going and the love triangle, with its modern LGBTQ+ twist, could be compelling, but instead of breaking ground, it veers into soap opera. There’s a sense that IVORIES wants to channel the emotional brutality of playwrights like Edward Albee, but it lacks the verbal dexterity and psychological nuance to pull it off. Sloane is a particularly frustrating presence - obsessed by their writing, perpetually demanding praise and validation for their work, wallowing in victimhood, and lashing out in a way that becomes wearisome. Gwyn’s increasingly passive response to the strange goings-on in the house is frustrating and leaves you wondering why he doesn’t take more decisive action. Only Beckham, the most grounded of the three, feels fully realised. He’s clear in his motivations, sympathetic and sentimental - but even he starts to grate through sheer ineffectiveness as the play progresses. The question begins to hang over the whole piece: if the characters have no sense of self-preservation or drive to action, why should the audience emotionally invest in their fate? There are moments that suggest what the play could be. The sound and lighting design are phenomenal - delivering some truly striking technical work and, had the emotional stakes in the characters been more rooted, these moments could have been genuinely chilling. As it stood, when the scares finally arrived, they were too late. Dialogue-heavy scenes have drained away the tension, and when the characters begin to unravel, you can’t help but wonder why no one simply... leaves. That said, the cast do their best, and there is a kernel of something worthwhile here - a refreshing attempt to tell a queer story without leaning on tragic tropes to portray a gay relationship. With a sharper script, IVORIES could be a chilling exploration of love, guilt, and psychological collapse, and become the ghost story it clearly wants to be. For now, it’s an ambitious production caught between horror and melodrama, bloated with angst and light on suspense. IVORIES by Riley Elton McCarthy Box Office: https://www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk/ivories.html CAST Riley Elton McCarthy, Matthias Hardarson, Daniel Neil Ash and Ashley M. Cowles Creative team Georgie Rankom - Director) Waverley Moran - Production Stage Manager Skylar Turnbull Hurd - Lighting Verity Johnson - Scenic & Costumes
by Heather Jeffery 7 July 2025
‘a fab reminder of the rise of feminism and the iconic songs of the 60s and 70s’ ★★★ ½ If anyone is expecting this musical to be the story of Lulu they will be mistaken as the title refers to the name of a magazine. I’d never heard of it, and confusingly the only magazine of that name that I could find on google is from the 90s. The good news is that this 60s and 70s Juke Box musical includes Lulu’s iconic number, Shout, so no disappointment there. Another possible surprise is for anyone who is expecting pure nostalgia through their rose-tinted glasses, they might need to think again. With a strong feminist angle and five female performers the emphasis is on women growing up, in that pocket of time with the expectations, the pressures and the inevitable changes in culture that they encounter. Some of it is quite painful. There is a nifty idea, which runs through the production, of an agony aunt giving advice in a voice over. As each of the girls ask their question, the answers shockingly encourage women to obey stereotypes, stay at home, get married, and make sacrifices of themselves. Whilst many of the major events in these years were rightly highlighted with vignettes including Beatlemania, and the decriminalization of homosexuality; the jokes fell flat. The punchlines are simply too unpalatable for today’s audiences. The real strength of the show is the songs. The cast all have pleasing voices, doing the numbers justice, perfect for a singalong. Don’t by shy, get in there with your toes tapping, your hands clapping and if you can remember the words … there are a few performances which encourage audience participation … get into the groove. The costume department have worked overtime to provide fabulous costumes and wigs for the six performers. With a kaleidoscope of colourful mini dresses and trouser suits to change into, at breakneck speed, the cast must have been flying round backstage to make their unexpected entrances on all sides, a magical feat of organisation. The on-stage band also deserves praise, although sometimes the instruments drowned out the voices of the performers, so the mixing is not always perfect. It’s easy to forgive and just enjoy the high energy, and the constant bursting into song. Don’t expect character development, a strong story line or high emotion. Do expect feminism to triumph and to be reminded of the fabulous female singer of the period. We salute them, Dusty Springfield, Petula Clark, Cilla Black, Sandie Shaw and of course Lulu (only 15 when she recorded Shout). Then let’s not forget the composers either, with some particularly famous names, Burt Bacharach and Neil Sedaka. All the songs are memorable but a couple, Son of a Preacher Man and Downtown, particularly stood out for me. So, which song is going around my head this morning? I Only Wanna Be With You … Dusty Springfield’s version of course. SHOUT The Mod Musical at Upstairs at the Gatehouse 25 June – 20 July 2025 BOX OFFICE CAST Gabrielle Cummins, Isabella Mason, Lauren Allan, Lauren Bimson, Madeleine Doody and Sophie Ingoldsby VOICE OVER Pippa Winslow CREATIVES Authors – Phillip George and David Lowenstein Director – Joseph Hodges Choreographer – Jay Gardner Musical Director – Gabrielle Ball Lighting Designer – Jack Hathaway Sound Designer – Phil Wilson Company and Stage Manager – Amy Spall Wig and Hair designer – James Davies MUSICIANS Jay Gardner - Keys
by Paul Maidment 5 July 2025
'Fantastic visuals' ★★ 1/2 Ah, 'immersive theatre'. Words that fill me with the same dread as 'replacement bus service', 'leisure centre' and 'here's the new song by Maroon 5'. That's not to say that, when done well, immersive theatre can't be challenging and fun (see Punchdrunk and Secret Cinema) but I've been around the block a few times and when it's bad, it's very very bad. As a proud South East London resident I am fundamentally delighted that the production company Sage & Jester have set their first foray into the genre, in a decent sized warehouse in the murky depths of Deptford / New Cross. The step from slightly scary estate to charming grassland with a long range view of the 'Storehouse' is a strong start - it's a great vista. And, indeed, all of the visuals are fantastic through my 90 minute stay - it's just everything else that just doesn't work. The story goes that Storehouse is an 'underground' archive holding all of humanity's published missives and has been in place since the internet changed our lives in 1983. The worries and stress that all this data brings was supposed to have been alleviated on 1 January 2025 - I'm not entirely sure how or why - but it hasn't and thus the Storehouse has entrusted its guests ('Trustees' as we are known) to identify what is going wrong and why. Books are suddenly looking chewy and marked, the ceilings are leaking ink, there are strange voices emitting from the walls and worrying messages are spotted everywhere. The Trustees are led through a few rooms, some characters drift in and out, there's a lot of standing about and a 'big' finish which brings two groups and more characters together. What did it all add up to? A load of hokum, alas. Seemingly inspired by the creator Liana Patarkatsishvili's life experiences and her being troubled by how the public can be manipulated by information / disinformation, this is a timely and resonant opportunity to ask some big questions around truth and belief. Between them, however, six writers have come up with a narrative that switches between the ridiculously and boringly complex, and the 'and-then-this-happened' simplicity. I'm sorry to say that some of the dialogue was plain daft and the actors, whilst doing their best, are either over-compensating through over-acting or come and go as to be pointless (the great Scott Karim appeared right at the start for 2 minutes and was never seen again; I did like Elizabeth Hollingshead who had all the best lines). Some famous faces - Meera Syal and Toby Jones included - have given their voices to the project but we're never quite clear who and what they are - indeed, a fellow 'Trustee' just kept pointing at photos of Toby Jones and quite correctly saying 'that's Toby Jones'. Aside from a nice running joke involving 80's music, the whole thing was pretty humourless and more than a bit dull. But....the visuals are ecstatically good. The rooms are beautifully curated and the whole space is lit like a Christmas fairytale with elements of darkness and fear. The sound is multi-layered and always interesting, although at times just too much is going on and quieter moments are buried or lost. A good deal of money has been spent here and the creative team led by Sophie Larsmon take us on a journey that ultimately reveals the scale of Storehouse and it's quite a moment, only let down by the story itself just fizzing out. There's a final 'wow' when the Trustees exit through the inevitable bar onto the Thames - very cool. Storehouse has a few months to run and I don't know what plans Sage & Jester have beyond this show. The potential to do something amazing is there in the right hands as the space is terrific but it needs the right story - and that's the truth. Times Wed – Fri : 6pm & 8pm Saturday : 3pm, 5pm & 8pm Sunday : 12pm, 2pm & 5pm Running time: approx. 90 minutes, no interval BOX OFFICE Creatives Liana Patarkatsishvili Founder and Concept Creator Sophie Larsmon Creative Director Zoe Snow Executive Producer Rosalyn Newbery Lead Producer Alice Helps Production Designer James Bulley Sound Designer Ben Donoghue Lighting Designer Donnacadh O’Briain Story Producer Tristan Bernays Co-Writer Sonali Bhattacharyya Co-Writer Kathryn Bond Co-Writer Katie Lyons Co-Writer Anna Meredith, Sinemis Buyuka & James Bulley Original Compositions Caro Murphy Co-Writer Rhik Samadder Co-Writer Beth Pitts Associate Director Sophie Drake Dramaturg Julie Belinda Landau Costume Designer Images: Helen Murray
by Rebecca Bairstow 4 July 2025
“a frank and funny exploration of adolescence, and all the bodily fluids that accompany it.” ★★★ ½ If you recall the most pivotal moments of your life, it’s likely you remember exactly where you were when they happened. For best friends Faye and Gemma, there’s one uniting factor; they all take place in the toilets. Piss Girls documents the journey of the two confidantes as they navigate relationships, sexuality and growing up from the confines of the bathroom walls. On two seemingly diverging paths into adult life, can they keep a lid on the issues that threaten their friendship? Or will external pressures cause it to unravel like loo roll? Such is the commitment to the toilet theme that two porcelain thrones are mainstays of the set, and are manoeuvred around the otherwise minimal surroundings as we transition from scene to scene. Along with toilet paper and various sanitary products, they are amusingly used as stand-ins for a number of different props throughout the play. It’s impressive just how many uses can be found from these items, and is a credit to the innovation and creativity of this production. Often when actors portray the same characters at different ages throughout their lives, it can feel clunky and awkward, especially if they’re playing versions of their characters that are significantly younger. However, Samantha Dilena (Faye) and Brooke McCloy (Gemma) transition smoothly from schoolgirls to undergraduate students with ease, showcasing their versatility as actors. The two share an easy comfortability with each other that illustrates their close friendship, and the connection between them feels completely authentic. Particularly impressive is Dilena, whose physical characterisation of Faye early in the play skilfully plants the seeds of a storyline that will later come to fruition. Her reserved, tense physicality contrasts with the carefree buoyancy of Gemma, setting the two characters on separate pathways that will later cause tensions to arise and put their friendship in jeopardy. The themes Piss Girls addresses are fairly well-trodden ground for coming-of-age media, and as a play it doesn’t say anything truly groundbreaking or revolutionary. However, they’re handled with a delicate mix of sensitivity and humour, giving the play emotional weight without feeling saccharine or sentimental. At times, it feels as if these weighty topics are glossed over slightly, and exploring these issues in more depth would have allowed for a more comprehensive dive into the girls’ dynamic, as well as their individual psychologies. With a run time of 45 minutes, Piss Girls is just a snapshot of a complex relationship spanning almost a decade, traversing multiple states in Australia and involving various degrees of intoxication. Soundtracking this journey are various pop tunes of the 2000s, often accompanied by the two characters dancing with the unselfconscious energy of youth, making for a fast-paced performance that doesn’t dip in energy at any point. Despite the differences that arise between Faye and Gemma, it’s hard not to root for their friendship and enjoy Piss Girls for what it is: a frank and funny exploration of adolescence, and all the bodily fluids that accompany it. Piss Girls, The Hope Theatre 1 st -5 th July Box Office Cast Samantha Dilena and Brooke McCloy  producers MOLLY HANDS & CALLUM FLINT lighting designer MAE ELLIOT Reviewer Rebecca Bairstow graduated from the University of Manchester with a degree in Drama and English Literature in 2017. She has since continued to write plays, including Warped in 2024, and Don't Ask for the Earth in 2025. ○
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