'Quite moving....but an opportunity missed' ★★★ Thomas is a funny one. He's the kind of guy who says 'coffee woffee' and 'nighty nighty'. He is a voracious cleaner - he loves a bit of bleach and he shuffles around his bare flat in his cleaning shoes. He likes his food orders to be, well, ordered. And he doesn't go out. His best and only friend is his cactus, Clive, given to him by his departed partner whom had given Thomas the chance to lead a new life with him in Australia. But Thomas chose to stay at home in his IT job and, post pandemic, it's there he stays just looking outside across a canal to his neighbours whose lives tick along whilst he undertakes Zoom calls with his colleagues and, well, very little else. So, Thomas is a funny one who is troubled and likely depressed and inherently sad. As things begin to unravel with his work - his nemesis Naomi is looking to jettison him and there appears little that he can do about it - so Thomas further retreats and whilst he questions his life and what is happening to him it seems he can't function well enough to properly help himself. In a bare white set alleviated by smart moments of lighting by Chris Davey, director Lucy Bailey gives Thomas plenty to do and there is a sense of repetition in action and thought offset by things happening to him that move the plot forward. But, despite, a slight 60 minute run time the script never goes far enough and thus it feels just a little dull in places and things do meander. As Thomas, the very fine actor Paul Keating is not quite fully able to give Thomas rounded dimensions and feelings to make us care enough about what ultimately happens. Part of this is down to the story itself but I also full expect Keating to grow into the role through the run and thus explore Thomas more fully. I did find the ending quite moving as the prickles from the cactus that seem to hold Thomas back are replaced by the smooth edges of trees in the outside world. So, Thomas is very much the victim here and there's plenty to say about isolationism and workplace practices. Interesting but perhaps an opportunity missed. Photos by Ikin Yum BOX OFFICE The Company Paul Keating Thomas Michael Wynne Writer Lucy Bailey Director Mike Britton Designer Elizabeth Khabaza Stage Manager Chris Davey Lighting Designer Nick Powell Sound Designer Brent Tan Production Manager Charlie Flint Photography  Matthew 'Lux' Swithinbank Production Electrician

'Good fun and engaging' ★★★ 1/2 In the week that Peaky Blinders writer Steven Knight was confirmed as the writer of the next James Bond film, the charmingly old school Marylebone Theatre is hosting a farcical comedy looking at choosing the next actor to play Bond in a time of political correctness and the tensions between history and modernity. In a show that never quite wants or needs to fall on the side of realism, we see ballsy American producer Deborah (Barbara Broccoli anyone?) getting ready to announce the new Bond when it turns out the actor chosen has been messaging underage girls - which leads to leaks to the press, which in turn leads to headlines like 'Dr No Consent' and 'Moonraper. She then has 20-odd hours to plough through audition tapes and find a new 007. Alongside Deborah's increasingly manic angst is her business partner Malcolm with whom she fights and bickers, especially when he wants to use a spurious algorithm to pick their man. Also in situ is her son Quinn - wearing a not-very-subtle 'Eat The Rich' t-shirt - a self confessed nepo baby who has been interning at the studio but is in line to the key to the throne - but does he want it? In the background and ultimately on the phone is the big kahuna Lacroix who may or may not be on Deborah's side. The set up is neat and across a short running time - including an arguably un-necessary interval - Jordan Waller's script tickboxes all the major questions of the day name-checking male toxicity, AI takeover, legacy versus 'now' and, of course, what it fundamentally means to be a man (Bond is the ultimate alpha male - always 'reliable' and 'ready' but 'complicated' and 'annoying'). The second half gets a bit screechy and there is little time for nuance or to let the audition take it all in but, overall, things canter along nicely reaching a rather smart pay off which surprised and delighted me. As Deborah, Tanya Franks is a revelation. A fine actress and here she goes through the gears. Her character can be overly frantic and she's at her best in quieter moments - especially when Obioma Ugoala (good here) is introduced as her non traditional choice as Bond which sees her go from delightedly flirtation to horrified and manipulative. There is solid support from Philip Bretherton as Malcolm and Henry Goodson-Bevan gets some nice lines as the son who wants the glory but would maybe rather be in Sierra Leone with his documentary making boyfriend. Against a simple wood-panelled set housing photos of Connery, Moore et al this is a show that is good fun, engaging but could maybe have really gone for the darker side - so, shaken and gently stirred then. Photography: Steve Gregson  BOX OFFICE Tanya Franks Deborah Philip Bretherton Malcolm Harry Goodson-Bevan Quinn Obioma Ugoala Theo Peter McPherson Richard ‍ ‍ Creatives & production team Jordan Waller Writer Derek Bond Director Cory Shipp Set & Costume Designer Adam Foley Lighting Designer Amanda Priestley Sound Designer Matt Powell Video & Projection Designer Anna Ryder Associate Director Cieranne Kennedy-Bell Costume Supervisor

‘Bonni Chan portrays a rare gem of a fragile sensitive soul’ ★★★★ A great storytelling piece of theatre presented with a minimalist set design, a digital video projection of an island on a fabric canvas, a screen generating Chinese text subtitles, the stage dotted with miniature mountains, a miniature green building, a white rhinoceros, a luggage and a mustard coloured coat. It begins with the arrival of a plane. ‘Must I cry’ recounts the journey of a daughter in a search for a moment in time. She picks up along the way several fragments of memories of a past life back on the island which her late father told her one day resembles the shell of a turtle. And just like fleeting memories, scenes of her childhood appeared on stage, like the ebb of a wave crashing on the shore of that island, flowing back and forth in a poetic dream-like state. ‘Must I cry’ is almost an invitation to the audience to look within themselves to find or to rediscover that which may have been lost in adulthood. As the saying goes, many go to the theatre to see themselves reflected in the characters and stories, and to process emotions on a personal level. This one woman show delivered with a kind soft spoken voice evokes that state of innocence, tenderness and carefree moments of childhood, and even the foreign accent of the director-devisor-performer Bonni Chan appeared so fitting in creating an outwardly meditative experience. Bonni Chan portrays a rare gem of a fragile sensitive soul coping with loss and the tragedy is not that when she returns to her homeland, she finds the city landscape is ever changing, but it is that she is struggling with retaining memories of her late father. One of the highlights was the musical soundtrack ranging from the opening scene’s raw primitive sounds of drumbeats to electronic instrumental tracks. The audience was also delighted with live music. In the left corner of the stage sat musician composer Lau Chi-bun playing beautiful tunes from his accordion and music box tunes from another instrument as the miniature green building rotated eerily on stage. Produced by Theatre du Pif, a Hong Kong based theatre company formed in 1992 in Scotland by Bonni Chan and Sean Curran, ‘Must I cry’ made its UK debut in 2024 at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival and is now on an European tour having been to France, currently in London until 2 August and next to Ireland. Photography: Cheung Chi Wai Devised, directed and performed by Bonni Chan Pleasance Theatre, Main House, 31st July – 2 August Box Office: https://www.pleasance.co.uk/event/must-i-cry Avignon, France 19 – 26 July | Cork, Ireland 6 – 9 September Review by Melanie Lam

‘You will hear her.’ ★★★ That's the tagline of this version of Medea—the infamous Greek myth about a woman who killed her own children to get revenge on her husband. If that's a spoiler, I'm very sorry. (It has, however, been 2500 years. Catch up.) Medea has been staged in countless ways. Writer & composer Costas Hassabis has decided to make his rendition a feminist folk musical, performed by a band of actor-musicians who welcome us in casually: ‘Make yourselves at home, we're just having a little sing-song at the moment.’ When Medea appears, playing the flute, she leads the pack. Everything is love and joy and 70s counter-culture chill. Director Tara Noonan has worked in the Gatehouse before, and it shows. As in last year's Songs for a New World, she and her production team know how to make this space shine. The stage is warm and colourful, bedecked with velvet curtains and sparkling stars. Cheerful cafe tables crowd together. Fleetwood Mac posters are plastered across the piano. Only a framed painting of a sailing ship reminds us that we're in ancient Greece. The set-up poses an intriguing question: Can you really tell one of the darkest of myths via a musical genre known for its gentleness and vibes? The answer: Yes you can, if you cheat the darkness. Too often, The Musical Medea shies away from the brutality of its source—not across the board, but when it comes to its heroine. Because that is how the show firmly frames her: Medea is the wronged woman, the bright-eyed innocent disillusioned by her husband's cruelties. Those themes are present in the source, of course. (Jason has always been, and will always be, a gigantic prick.) But the show avoids plot-points that would complicate the picture. Early on, Medea betrays her country to help her lover. What the show leaves out is that this betrayal traditionally consists of killing her brother and chopping him into pieces. It's a sign of what's to come: this is a softened Medea—and the changes more often fall flat than feel transformative. That is largely the fault of the book and lyrics, which show little faith in the audience's ability to read between the lines. Everything is spelled out and underlined. The spoken text is prosaic, the rhymes are on the nose and the characters insist on making explicit references to the musical symbolism (‘You're the Musical Medea!’) Where the show does succeed is in its compositions and, above all, the musical excellence of its ensemble. Under Thomas Arnold's musical direction, the seven performers work harmoniously together, and are adept at a dizzying range of instruments. Flo Lunnon's voice shines as Medea, while other ensemble members get their own stand-out scenes. Felix Gillingwater's bumbling King Aegis is a particular highlight. Noonan and movement director Kim Wright have worked with this musicality to create some beautiful moments: Medea the sorceress, enchanting her flock. A haunting lullaby and a cradled scarf as the reality of motherhood sinks in. A piano duet (Lunnon, Higgins) that shows a relationship falling apart. Wherever the show lets these moments speak for themselves, it is at its strongest. Tonally, The Musical Medea is still bit of a jumble. Is it musical? Yes. Is it Medea? Not quite. The Musical Medea at Upstairs at the Gatehouse 29 July – 3 August Part of Camden Fringe Box Office https://camdenfringe.com/events/the-musical-medea/ Creatives Writer & Composer: Costas Hassabis Director: Tara Noonan Assistant director: Lewis Reece Jones Musical Director: Thomas Arnold Movement director: Kim Wright Ensemble Flo Lunnon (Medea), Alistair Higgins, Gracie Lai, Jon Bonner, Caoimhe De Brún, Felix Gillingwater, Thomas Fabian Parrish

‘Offbeat, entertaining musical comedy with its tongue firmly in its cheek ’ ★★★★ Light as a souffle, nutritious as a strawberry, ‘Extraordinary Women’ is an offbeat, entertaining musical comedy with its tongue very firmly in its cheek. To the windswept island of Sirene in the inter-war years come a group of extraordinary women in the hope of a world (almost) without men. We’re in a world of cocktails, dances and surreptitious glances, moonlight, romance and falling in love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with. Little do the women know they’ve been conjured there by the siren Parthenope, with a little help from her sister sirens and the poet Sappho, to make the island safe for Partenope in a plot outside the plot that adds up to not much and matters less as it acts as a peg for a series of scenes that operate almost as sketches backed by entertaining and witty songs superbly sung by a cast of seven. Among the seven-strong cast playing 17 characters, Aurora (Caroline Sheen) is the host for a party on this isolated island, to which come her friend and faithless lover Rosalba (Amy Ellen Richardson), who’s roving eye and beauty make her a magnet for all the other guests bar the five manservants, policemen, soldiers etc played by Jack Butterworth, and a prim English governess (Sophie Louise Dann) who might, but for convention, be just as interested as the rest of them. The performances are uniformly high standard, with Richardson giving Rosalba the full Dietrich and Butterworth flitting beautifully from confused copper to long-suffering manservant to fabulously untrustworthy playboy. Monique Young is particularly strong as Parthenope, holding the thing together, but also a buttoned-up Russian woman and criminally flighty American belle. Jasmine Kerr’s ingenue Lulu and Amira Matthews combining Sappho (her poetry’s so fragmentary – an idea of the level of the jokes, there) and an American singer and diva. It's all highly entertaining, and there’s joy to be had from seeing the sheer talent of the six women and single man as they combine, most playing multiple roles, each singing solos, duets and ensemble pieces backed by an excellent two-piece piano and guitar/bass section. The plot doesn’t add up to much and the musical has no deep and passing message for the world – affairs begin, end, order is restored or not – but taken simply as series of set pieces, it’s an entirely pleasing show. It’s drawn from a little-remembered novel by Sir Compton MacKenzie of ‘Whisky Galore’ and ‘Monarch of the Glen’ fame, this one a roman a clef about lightly, indeed barely, disguised lesbian literary figures he knew in the 1920s, turned into a musical only within the last five years. And, as so often, at Jermyn Street, it offers the opportunity to see gifted performers really close up in a west end musical. Photography: Steve Gregson EXTRAORDINARY WOMEN Music by Sarah Travis, and book and lyrics by Richard Stirling, from the novel by Sir Compton Mackenzie Directed by Paul Foster Jermyn Street Theatre 23 July to 10 August 2025 Box Office: https://www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk/show/extraordinary-women-a-new-musical-of-the-1920s/ Reviewer David Weir’s plays include Confessional (Oran Mor, Glasgow) and Better Together (Jack Studio, Brockley, London).

‘excellent backdrop to a well spun narrative’ ★★★ This is the almost unbelievable story of Simon Parkes who admits, “I bought the Brixton Academy for a quid”, and then he turned it into one of the best venues in London. For anyone indulging themselves in the London scene in the 80s and 90s this phenomenon certainly did not go un-noticed. The Brixton Academy now has a big reputation so any telling of its story will for some people have a lot of amazing memories to live up to. Having set itself such a difficult task I think it might be a little unfair to expect a 90 minute play to equal any of those nights but judging by the audience’s reaction, it is fair to say that this play rekindled many memories and brought out a very warm response from all who saw it. I wondered if I was the only one in the audience familiar with Eek-A-Mouse or Yellow Man but I did know that I was touched by the mention of perhaps some of the less well known artists around at the time. But wasn’t that, what made the Academy the Academy? Of course it was and I was grateful for the reminder. I felt equally as reassured with the mentioning of The Clash and UB40 when those around me clearly responded in a positive way to those names. I felt like I was in familiar company with Tendai Humphrey Sitima’s constant outpouring of musical echos from all sorts of bands from the past, so many I lost count. But what an excellent backdrop to a well spun narrative from Max Runham who acted out, explained, imitated, sang and danced his way through every possible aspect of what Simon Parkes must have lived through on his epic journey that brought so many people so much happiness for all those years. There were also a few reminders of the darker and dodgier side of the sometimes very violent environment where the Brixton Academy lives. The directing by Bronagh Lagan kept the play ticking over at a good pace with an expertly balanced mix of anecdotes, music, humour and drama. The lights were exactly what were needed for the whole range of musical styles that the sound team blasted into your face for the raves or barely whispered in the background for Gregory Isaacs.  This play was nostalgic for many of us who knew the Academy in its hey-day but it was also a tribute to a man with a vision and the guts to have a go at putting together his dream. And, like many of the audience I was glad that he did it, entertained by what I saw and heard there and proud to have smoked and drank and danced my way through some of those gigs. Photography: Danny Kaan BRIXTON CALLING at Southwark Playhouse Borough 23 July - 16 August 2025 BOX OFFICE https://southwarkplayhouse.co.uk/productions/brixton-calling/ Written by Alex Urwin Directed by Bronagh Lagan The Company Max Runham Simon Parkes and others Tendai Sitima Johnny Lawes and others (and original composition) Alex Urwin Writer Bronagh Lagan Director John Dinneen Producer Katy Lipson Associate Producer Derek Anderson Lighting Nik Corrall Set and costume Max Pappenheim sound

‘Unexpectedly compelling’ ★★★★ This is a refreshingly old fashioned play. The action takes place mostly in a single setting. You have to listen to what is said and there are no theatrical gimmicks. It could very easily be dull but isn’t.  Based on Josephine Tey’s 1951 novel, M Kilburg Reddy’s version comes with borrowings from Tey’s other four Inspector Grant novels. Grant (Rob Pomfret) has broken his leg in the course of his duties and is now obliged to spend six weeks in hospital. He is bored and bad tempered until his flighty actress friend, Marta Hallard (Rachel Pickup – nice performance) brings him a photograph of the famous portrait of Richard III. Richard, as nearly every one knows, has long been perceived – largely thanks to Shakespeare – as a villainous, ruthless, power-hungry murderer, guilty of infanticide. Grant studies the face, decides that this benign, wise looking man can’t have done what he is blamed for and sets out to prove his innocence. Of course – with the help of a young researcher and his friend/colleague from the Met – he eventually succeeds. At the same time there are two gentle 1950s-style love stories winding their way along in the background. Both are eventually resolved happily The history is carefully researched despite flaws in Tey’s argument which becomes a quasi-courtroom scene in a hospital room. And court room scenes generally make good drama. I thought it was a fine novel when I first read it in my teens and – although by then I was more au fait with the background history – I quite liked it again when I reread it a couple of years ago. Now it also makes an unexpectedly compelling play. And although I remain unconvinced that it was the Duke of Buckingham wot-did-it, I can suspend disbelief long enough to appreciate this piece. Pomfret’s central performance is nicely sustained as he goes from being a curmudgeonly “bad” patient to a professional detective at work. He is horizontal in bed for most of the play’s two and three quarter hours and that can’t be easy. He gets a brief respite when Noah Huntley (good) as actor, Nigel Templeton treats us to extracts from his current play at the Old Vic – Richard III of course – in front of a traditional red velvet curtain. There are also some short scenes when Templeton and Marta meet in the Ivy which is nicely depicted on a half stage flat, complete with distinctive diamond stained glass. The support cast is generally strong although Hafsa Abbasi, as one of three nurses looking after Grant, isn’t always audible from Row H. Harrison Sharpe is entertaining as the earnest, excitable young American researcher, Brent Carradine. And Sanya Adegbola is enjoyably naturalistic as Grant’s gravelly, no nonsense sidekick. Janna Fox, the nurse who listens patiently to Grant’s developing theories and constantly pours cold water on them, adds dramatic tension and a lot of humour. It’s quite a treat to see such satisfyingly grown up theatre. It doesn’t set out to be “edgy” or to explore difficult territory but sustains interest throughout. Take it on its own terms and The Daughter of Time is rather good. THE DAUGHTER OF TIME by M. Kilburg Reedy, adapted from Josephine Tey at Charring Cross Theatre 18 JULY - 13 SEPTEMBER 2025 BOX OFFICE https://charingcrosstheatre.co.uk/theatre/the-daughter-of-time Directed by Jenny Eastop Produced by Excelsior Entertainment and Mercurius Theatre The production’s cast includes: Hafsa Abassi Sanya Adegbola Janna Fox Noah Huntley Rachel Pickup Rob Pomfret Harrison Sharpe The cast also includes: Henry Douthwaite Sophie Doyle Gregor Roach Creatives: Author: M. Kilburg Reedy Novelist: Josephine Tey Director: Jenny Eastop Set and Costume Designer: Bob Sterrett Lighting Designer: Oliver McNally Composer: Haddon Kime Sound Designer: Andrew Johnson Hair, Wigs, and Makeup: Diana Estrada Hudson Casting: Neil Rutherford Key Art: Kurt Firla Production Manager: James Anderton Produced by Excelsior Entertainment, Mercurius Theatre, and Steven M. Levy for Charing Cross Theatre Productions Limited.

'commanding script and bewitching performance' ★★★★★ With a commanding script and bewitching performance, Rogue Shakespeare’s Pretty Witty Nell transports audiences back to the merry, muddied world of the Restoration. A one-woman tragicomic history of Nell Gwynne - the orange seller turned actress turned mistress of the ‘king who brought back partying’ - this is storytelling at its most alive and authentic. Arguably ambitious enough in scope alone, it’s also written entirely in rhyming iambic pentameter. This structure, which at times might isolate a modern audience, instead adds a lyrical pulse to the show that mirrors the theatricality of Restoration comedy. Pretty Witty Nell achieves all the fundamental things a one-woman show should: it is intimate, theatrical, and heartbreakingly vulnerable. The story of Nell Gwynne is ultimately a tragic one, despite Clarissa Adele doing a wonderful job of concealing this with humour. The show opens in bawdiness, and my expectations are met: a loud, brash, funny actress in a corset, trying to sell me oranges and cracking jokes about inflation, leaves me somewhat bemused before the play even properly begins. The first half continues in this vein – full of girlish banter, Fleabag-esque asides, and a Miranda Hart-like goofiness that charms and disarms in equal measure. Yet, as was true for Nell, this performance conceals a darker undercurrent. Both Adele and writer/director Ryan J W Smith are to be commended for the way the play takes a deft emotional U-turn. Nell’s tragedy unfolds line by line, brought to life by a performance of startling vulnerability. Adele is mesmerising. Across fifty uninterrupted minutes of dense, rhyming iambic pentameter, she doesn’t falter, commanding the stage with nothing more than a few wigs as co-stars. Sure, iambic pentameter is often said to be easier to memorise, the da-DUM rhythm supposedly a faithful metronome, but to sustain it, solo, for nearly an hour is truly impressive. Smith’s script is a firecracker, one deserving of being scribbled on and analysed on the tube home. No thought is spared, no comma unimportant, and every word deliberate. It’s a fascinating concept, and Smith seems to modernise Restoration drama without actually modernising it. The language and form may be firmly rooted in the 17 th century, but the energy is distinctly contemporary, pulsing with urgency and immediacy. Nell Gwynne’s life was far from happy, and it’s essential to recognise that beneath her bawdy humour is a vulnerable child exposed to unimaginable horrors. Groomed, exploited, and subjected to the full weight of 17 th -century misogyny, her only relief is in performance. In this sense, Pretty Witty Nell is not just a love story between Nell and Charles II, nor a tragedy about one woman’s life, but instead something far more powerful: an ode to the enduring nature of performance itself. This script would sit comfortably next to Dryden, but with one crucial difference: it is a show about a woman, performed by a woman, telling the story of how women first became actors. It is fitting that Nell Gwynne should be eulogised in the same kind of verse she once fought so hard to perform in. PRETTY WITTY NELL by Ryan J W Smith. Performed by Clarrisa Adele, produced by Rogue Shakespeare BARONS COURT THEATRE, LONDON – JULY 22-26, 2025 Tickets here BEDLAM THEATRE, EDINBURGH – AUG 12-17, 2025 Tickets here More info here 

'performer Jason Sardinha is engaging and personable'★★★ ½ In an epoch when comedians like Stephen Fry and Hugh Laurie, cutting their teeth in sketch shows and stand-up routines, are fêted as great actors; an epoch in which half the new novels published, and most of the novels that sell out their initial print-run, seem to be written as a side-hustle by comedians; it is unsurprising that stand-up techniques infuse dramatic presentations. Particularly this applies to solo shows with a single performer presenting multiple characters, and since solo performances are the cheapest dramas to stage, that represents an awful lot of new drama. Because it’s a familiar trope, that doesn’t mean it’s easy. The essence of the technique is to soothe the audience with well honed observational comedy schtick, and then deliver a surprise twist by hitting a serious note, maybe political, maybe biographical. It works. There are many well-regarded plays on the fringe that do exactly that, that introduce the character’s abusive past, racist relatives, sexual confusion, out of the laugh-riot that had occupied the audience’s attention. Out of Bounds by Rajesh Gopie attempts this on a grand scale. The solo performer, Jason Sardinha, populates the stage with aunties and uncles, cousins and school-chums, parents and grandparents, all living and feuding in an Indian community in Apartheid South Africa. The community is housed in the Phoenix Settlement outside Durban, an ashram founded by Gandhi while he lived in South Africa, but this doesn’t impinge much on the narrator Lall. He grows up there, and notes its destruction by Zulu rioters in the 1980s, but what he wants to talk about is his family. His family are all characters. Jason Sardinha represents them with minimal props and well-chosen physical markers as he charts his personal development, heavily coached to violently resist affronts, acquiring agency, leaving South Africa to tour the world. The problem with the piece is that the comedy is not all that funny, and the introduction of heavier issues is far too glancing. There are allusions to Indian attitudes towards the black population, of inter-ethnic violence, of the weight of apartheid on any South African with brown skin, but none of these subjects are explored with any vigour, the narrator is largely indifferent to them or their consequences, and most of his anger is directed at his parents, especially his father. It feels like a badly wasted opportunity. Lall’s fondness for Bollywood and disco, his faltering approaches to girls who catch his eye, these things are well drawn. The destruction of the Phoenix Settlement, out of which Lall’s family barely escaped with the clothes they stood up in, is noted in passing. Maybe that’s because Lall was very small at the time, but Lall the adult narrator has ample space to reflect. Jason Sardinha is engaging and personable, the stage set is effective, there are laughs, but the heavy-weight subjects alluded to don’t get enough attention or explanation, and that is a substantial loss. Out of Bounds written by Rajesh Gopie presented by Shooting Star Studios Tuesday 22nd July – Saturday 2nd August at 7.30pm Press night: Thursday 24th July at 7.30pm Box Office https://brockleyjack.co.uk/

‘Sumptuously mounted’ ★★★1/2 Something of a curio, this one, a romantic musical in which an Irish woman travels through time and space to find true love. Production values are very high, with an excellent 16-piece orchestra nicely visible behind a simple set featuring a high promontory and audio-visual support to locate us in time and all over the world. A strong cast of 12, beautifully costumed with frequent changes, and three dozen thoroughly singable songs heavily inflected with harp and flute. Sumptuously mounted, then, but if there's a gap in the production it sits with a story that does't quite support the surrounding splendour. Laura is a spirited colleen (the Oirishry of the plotting and score are catching), and we find her in her small rural home, in search of love and adventure. Until Gwenda the sorceress (think pantomime villain) offers her a Faustian bargain – immortality and travel and the capacity to entrance any man, but the curse that all those things pass on to the object of your affection as soon as you fall in love. Laura’s travels take her far and wide, a narcissistic Spanish matador here, a workaholic Russian dancer there, the latter two’s performances among the show’s many high points. In the end, she’ll find what she desires in a peaceful, thoughtful man. Meantime, the friend she’s left at home while she roams the universe is proving that none of all that malarkey’s at all necessary if you can find true love on your own doorstep, in a nicely comic (and scene-stealing) counterpart to the main narrative. It’s all a lot of fun, with strong if not particularly memorable songs. The story itself doesn’t ultimately add up to much – Laura finds true love. Even so, its details can be hard to follow at times, not least as a plot carried entirely in song requires crystal clear singing and diction (the Vicar Laura meets provides a fabulous example to some of the cast of how to make every word ring), but the visuals and movement and energy are top-notch, particularly among the backing dancers who catch the eye every time they arrive. The staging’s simple and inventive, though the slightly repetitive section where Laura meets five successive men in five different locations and five different times could do with a bit more variety in the staging and direction (the cleverly designed audio-visuals are used a little pedestrianly here – the fifth time the planets re-align, the point really has been hit home). And the whole thing’s entirely good natured – the eventually spurned lovers are funny rather than tragic, the songs repeatedly uplifting, the finale satisfying. Photography: Brigid Vinnell FOR THE LACK OF LAURA by Kurt Rosenberg Directed by Luke Morgan Shaw Theatre, King’s Cross 24 July to 2 August 2025 Box Office: https://shaw-theatre.com/whats-on/for-the-lack-of-laura 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.

“sharp, poetic, subtle, and most of all, entertaining” ★★★★★ Plays about climate change are becoming increasingly popular as we try to process the world handed to us by our parents’ generation. A world that is burning, melting…bleached. But not many climate plays are able to capture the absurdity of the situation or make an audience laugh at the darkness of it all quite as authentically as Laura Collins’s BLEACHED. In a series of snappy vignettes, four Australian tourists attempt to soak up the planet before it’s too late. Directed and designed by Tobias Abbott, this black comedy skilfully examines climate anxiety and humanity’s vain attempts to cling onto a world that is collapsing beneath our feet. Exceptional performances from the cast are layered above a deeply considered soundscape, transporting the audience to quivering glaciers, Berlin nightclubs, and bleached coral reefs as Collins combines witty dialogue with hopeful yet elegiac monologues about everything we should do before the end of the world. Visually, BLEACHED does away with set design, using four suitcases and minimal clothing to take the Etcetera Theatre audience across the world. Bodhi, played by an effervescent Alice Pryor, wants to see the Northern Lights but forget (on purpose) to take a picture, while Hen, played by a cool and manipulative Estelle Cousins, doesn’t see the point in caring. Images of rats “burning mega cities brimming with billions of bodies” punctuate scenes where couples split (literally and metaphorically) on melting ice caps and the list of closed borders swells. Rose Adams is sensational as the anxious volunteer, Anika, and reverent as Gab’s irritated partner, Nima. Gab is played by a measured Timothy Dennett: the sweet but suffocating boyfriend (and Santa) whose attempts to cling onto the women in his life are as futile as pretending climate change isn’t real. Where the play really excels in its use of structure. Despite jumping between different characters and storylines, Abbott and Collins bring the show full circle with an intriguing climax that is both hilarious and disturbing and that I will not give away. Furthermore, it feels like we’re in lockdown, but maybe not for Covid. The idea of being a “lockdown leaper” or a “final flyer” could mean one of two things: an attempt to take in the world before it’s gone or to run away from the responsibilities of modern life. The script is full of brilliant one-liners with original ideas about climate change and individual responsibility – something that is hard to come by in our digital everyday. BLEACHED is sharp, poetic, subtle, and most of all, entertaining. Talking Bird Productions make full use of the black box theatre at The Etcetera and give their audience much to think about on the way home. In short: a must watch. BLEACHED by Laura Collins Talking Bird Productions in association with Alice Pryor and Frisson Collective Etcetera Theatre 20 th – 23 rd July 2025 Box office: https://www.etceteratheatrecamden.com/events/bleached CREATIVE Director – Tobias Abbott Sound and Lighting Designer – Tobias Abbott CAST Alice Pryor – Bodhi Rose Adams – Anika / Nima Timothy Dennett – Gab / Santa Estelle Cousins - Hen Social media: @talkingbirdproductions

'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

“A show with stellar potential, which will make you laugh even if you’re not sure why.” ★★★★ The Hen and Chickens is fast becoming the go to theatre for comedy. Its position on Highbury corner in Islington is no doubt a best seller in itself, but the pub, and the people who run it just have that theatrical vibe. It might also be on the money for Islington types (politically traditionally left wing but shall we say that these days this might be more accurately expressed as ‘articulate’). It’s exciting, and this offering from Ready Steady Crooks, (cleverly also the name of their show), is quite enthralling. It’s wacky but if this doesn’t thrill, then it’s worth noting that it has moments of sheer brilliance. The trio of crooks, Head Chef, Sous Chef and Pot Washer, have an adventure which produces plenty of laugh out loud moments. What is the best place for crooks? What does every establishment have? Why a kitchen of course. So, the trio are ideally placed to steal – but they only steal what they can cook. Naturally there are other important characters, Bendy Wendy, the mother of Pot Wash, who dies. That is when Sous steps in to adopt him and becomes the dad. The plot is as thin as a wafer and is merely a vehicle for the comedy. There’s potential here for the culinarian threesome to go on other adventures, probably at Christmas for there is something of the pantomime here. A huge dollop of adult humour but not totally without pathos (potentially), cross dressing, dad dancing and ridiculous costumes. It’s rather more refined and verging on Monty Python brilliance. With an episodic style, the scenes reflect contemporary culture without flinching at the more embarrassing side (to an English person anyhow). The scene in the club, which Pot Wash announces has ‘sticky floors’ and ‘sticky walls’ and ‘there’s an upstairs’, seems to make this an ideal venue from his adolescent point of view. It is where he meets a girl he likes, (who turns out to be dad in drag), leading to a prolonged, but shoddily achieved, masturbation scene, but the semen had a pretty good role in the show following that. With meta-theatre jokes, references to film heists, and occasionally using the audience as stooges (without them ever leaving their seats), the humour is multi-layered. Whilst it’s not really polite to have favourites, it’s okay to admit to being super impressed with Luke Clarence Johnson purely for the ingenious comedy that resulted from his contribution. A method actor can always play any role. The largest of the three personalities, and physically taking up more space, as Sous he sports a moustache, gesturing toward the camp and at the same time, the masculine. He wonderfully plays against type, leaning into the heterosexual, confounding expectations and resulting in quite few laughs. Added to this, is his character from the Caribbean, also beautifully realised (and over the top). Why is it so funny? Could it be the hyper-perfection of his jump from British public school voice to another world, or maybe a meta-theatre joke about actors of colour, all too often only being cast in racial roles. Whatever, it was certainly taking the piss. Confounding our prejudices is a great trope in the show, but so too is the over sensitivity towards racism excellently highlighted in this comedy. The show doesn’t shy away from offence, it’s sacrilegious content (Genesis, and New Testament), is again verging on Monty Pythonesque absurdity. As if this isn’t enough, it also has visual gags, musical gags and a doorbell. As this isn’t a sketch show, it might benefit from a better and clearer plot which would add a satisfying story to the cannon of comedy. If this isn’t what the performers want, then would it be possible to give more depth of definition to Pot Wash and Head Chef (Sous already comes across as a powerful presence). It just needs that smidge of extra clarity, to add polish to an already greatly entertaining show. Ready Steady Crooks! Edinburgh Fringe: Venue: Greenside @ riddles Court – Thistle Theatre (Riddles Court 322, Lawnmarket, Edinburgh, EH1 2PG) Dates 18th till 23rd of August 2025 Time: 7:35pm Ticket Prices: £12/£11 concessions Venues Box Office: https://www.edfringe.com/tickets/whats-on/ready-steady-crooks Suitable for ages 14+ Written and performed by: Benjamin McMahon (The Play That Goes Wrong WEST END), Luke Clarence Johnson (Sion Hill’s music video “Could Have Had It All”) and Sam Stafford (The Mousetrap WEST END).

‘Beautiful singing with a fractured narrative thread’ ★★★ Testament offers three operas, with singers shifting between roles as they move from one piece to another. Splicing together Monteverdi’s Il combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, Janáček’s The Diary of One Who Disappeared, and Libby Larsen’s Try Me, Good King, the production’s aim was to explore “humanity’s evolving relationship with nature”. While this was clear in the final piece Janáček’s opera The Diary of One Who Disappeared, the link was tenuous with the other two pieces. That we shifted from one opera to another also meant that we never achieved an emotional investment in the characters or each of the stories. It was a shame as the singers were skilled vocally and many of them were great actors too. I’m a lover of Monteverdi, but musically, the shift from Tancredi to Larsen’s piece was jarring and I wonder if they would have been better to choose a later piece to open the show. Shafali Jalota, who sang Clorinda in the Monteverdi was sublime. The myriad colours and rich tone of her voice meant she shone as one of the vocal stars of the show. The only man in the cast, Brenton Spiteri whose tenor voice was beautifully rounded, was also a great actor. The women’s trios were exquisite. The “Nightingale” trio was a particular delight and really lifted the show. Libby Larsen’s Try Me, Good King was also intriguing. I feel Tobias Millard’s direction could have done more to connect the pieces together. He did this at a couple of points, but it needed more. If there was an overarching narrative which bound the three operas together, I missed it, and it felt like Millard missed opportunities to make this clearer. Also, at times it felt like the singers were being arranged in tableaux rather than creating connections and relationships with each other, though the performers did what they could to compensate for that. It looked nice but I craved more emotional connection. The set was simple but effective. Overall, while the singers were gifted, the shunting together of three operas did not really work as I think the company intended. Shame, as I think the company has great potential. TESTAMENT at Arcola Theatre 16 – 19 July 2025 Company: Green Opera Dates: 16 – 19 July 2025 https://www.arcolatheatre.com/whats-on/testament/ Performers: Natalka Pasicznyk, Emily Hodkinson, Shafali Jalota, Katherine McIndoe, Brenton Spiteri, Director: Tobias Millard Musical Director/Pianist: Alex Raineri Producer: Eleanor Burke, Brenton Spiteri Music by: Claudio Monteverdi, Leoš Janáček, Libby Larsen, Stage Manager: Juliet Hague Assistant Director: Stanley Lawson Set and Costume Designer: Kit Hinchcliffe Assistant Set and Costume Designer: Olivia Gough Production Manager: Sean Laing Lighting Designer: Cheng Keng Movement Director: Emilia Cadenasso Violin: Pietro Genova Gaia, Naomi Burrell Cello: Carolina Lopez del Nero Reviewer: Srabani Sen Srabani is a theatre actress and playwright. As an actress she has performed at the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse (The Globe), the Arcola, Southwark Playhouse, The Pleasance and numerous fringe theatres, in a range of roles from Shakespeare to plays by new and emerging writers. She has written several short and full length plays. Her play Tawaif was longlisted for the ETPEP Finborough award, and her play Vijaya was shortlisted for the Sultan Padamsee Playwrights Award in Mumbai.

‘three playlets that try to re-awaken Absurdist tropes’ ★★ ½ The quite-a-long-time-ago trend for Absurdist Dramas was powered by the idea that a significant philosophical position could be effectively illustrated by a striking dramatic metaphor. Oftentimes, the Absurdist playwrights tried to make the metaphor amusing, so their audience went “Oh my word, my life has been a bit like turning up every day so someone can tell me why I’m turning up every day.” Or “If you look at them rightly, fascists are a bit like rhinoceroses.” It is maybe debatable how effective those metaphors were, but that’s what the writers were trying to do. David Henry Wilson has put together three playlets that try to re-awaken Absurdist tropes, People in Cages, in which the setting is a cage, there are actors inside the cage, there are actors outside the cage, and the script explains why they are where they are. Sometimes the actors inside come out, and the actors outside go in. That’s the metaphor. Playlet one, by a very great margin the best of the three, features a man (John Kay Steel) in a cage labelled “killer ”, and a young, naïve couple come to gawp at him. The experience is arranged by a gatekeeper, played by Finlay McLean. The gatekeeper is a recurring character. Is the man really a killer? What does a killer look like? Is ‘killer’ merely a cruel labelling by an unfeeling society? Why would anyone want to come and gawp at a killer in a cage? All these and many other questions are raised in the half-hour run-time. None of them are actually answered, but that’s not the point. The point is that the play makes the audience consider them. And really, the problem is that they are not questions I’ve been pondering, I don’t much care about them. Why am I here? Yes. What actually is a Killer? No. Wilson is exercising a problematic technique to illustrate nebulous, not very significant, problems. And the punchlines, the moment where the plot twists to reveal a big idea, they are a bit feeble and don’t reveal anything of much interest. The cast does their best, and John Kay Steel has some good moments in the first play, but they are labouring with really unpromising material. I am not convinced Ionesco has a huge relevance in 2025, but David Henry Wilson is flogging, metaphorically, a long-dead horse. Ionesco was very of the moment in the 1950s, and maybe the Theatre of the Absurd had its moment then. In 2025 it feels awfully old. Box Office https://www.thedraytonarmstheatre.co.uk/people-in-cages Images; James A Bloomfield for credit purposes (@JamesABloomfield on IG)

‘Accomplished, imaginative, funny and sinister’ ★★★★  An accomplished piece of original and imaginative theatre, this production showcases the considerable talents of two women. Sophia Hail, who also directs, as Zona and Jennifer Kehl as Katherine have agreed to undertake a 60 day trial in which they train themselves to make coffee for their unseen bosses, at the end of which one or other of them will get the job but, of course, there is actually something much more serious going on. The clue is in the play’s title. These women are actually in a “doomsday bunker” a mile underground in Hawaii because this is a dystopian two hander. It’s a witty, fast paced study of the relationship between them because they don’t initially know each other and their personalities are very different. Gradually their hang ups and vulnerabilities emerge and very slowly and, against the odds, a friendship begins to develop. There’s a lot of humour here but there’s poignancy too when, for example, Katherine explains why she applied for this trial. And towards the end there’s real terror as the situation hots up and, at last, we hear a voice (Austin Yang) from the outside world. Hail is very funny as the excitable, untidy, all-American Zona (her full, flamboyant name is Arizona Turquoise) who has come by sea because, of course, she has environmental objections to flying. Kehl’s contrasting character is a control freak from Dallas who just about manages to hold herself together by being ruthlessly efficient. The dialogue is finely honed and the two actors play very pleasingly off each other. The passage of days is indicated by rapid physical theatre like a speeded up film and it’s a device which is both amusing and effective. A word of praise too for the set which neatly provides a convincing coffee bar in a room which also has camp beds and a table and chairs – everything these people need for 60 days during which food is delivered in an elevator whose ping becomes almost sinister. Well done Little Coup Theatre Company. This is impressively thoughtful work. It’s Not All About Coffee Written and performed by Sophia Hail and Jennifer Kehl Directed by Sophia Hail Little Coup Theatre Company Brockley Jack Studio Theatre 15 – 19 July 2025 BOX OFFICE

‘We’ve got no other option but to protest.’ ★★★ On the news, without a doubt, we have seen climate protestors making their mark across the world in increasingly inventive ways, and have also witnessed what the push-back and hesitance against their cause can look like. Luke Ofield uses the revival of his short play to ask what good activism is supposed to look like, in a world where activists are running out of ways to make themselves heard. Ofield manages to capture both ideas – for and against - within the play. His protestors are often disorganised and misguided, and their counterweight, the Captain, is ignorant to their cause, unable to understand why they are protesting the right to be heard over anything specific. Within a small control room, on an isolated oil rig with no means of escape, Ofield pushes these ideas together and demands their conflict to be resolved. Kit and the Captain are well-cast, and acted, but Christine Kempell as Dawn performs particularly well, standing out as a character who is unsure where to place such strong feelings, and who’s kind-hearted nature works as a striking contrast to the situation they are in. The effect of feeling unheard – a central idea to this play - is particularly noticeable with Dawn, who comes across as a character who is simply out of place, and has turned to this kind of extreme activism out of desperation. As a result, the difficult scenario they have gotten themselves into is constantly contrasted by her friendly dialogue, which is well-suited to her character. The use of the walkie-talkie and repeated references to the authority of Nicola work well to open up the theatre and encourage the audience to remember the confined space they are in. The Baron’s Court in particular is a great space for this production; the intimacy of the theatre is a reminder that the world is watching, and there’s nowhere to hide. Following a brief climax of action, the chance is taken to develop the personal nature of the characters, especially the Captain. The dialogue can be a little slow at times, with each of the characters weighing in on the serious themes of politics and economics, often taking a while to reach a meaningful conclusion. The ending, however, is able to resolve some conflicts and make a statement on the nature of the protest. The revival of Luke Ofield’s Kill Drill is an exciting and dramatic take on the nature of the protest – a short yet effective play that forces three different personalities to find common ground, asking the question ‘why is no-one listening?’ Kill Drill by Luke Ofield 15 th - 19 th July 2025, Baron’s Court Theatre, London https://www.baronscourttheatre.com/killdrill Reviewer Seb Gardiner Seb is a playwright currently based in Reading.

“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

‘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.