‘a really interesting and absorbing night in the theatre’ ★★★★ “Medical science makes us all live longer but it takes no responsibility for the fact that we have to be married longer.” Dr Sealey in The Effect. Lucy Prebble is one of the best of Britain’s new playwrights, and one can imagine her work enduring. The Effect shows exactly why: an interesting story, told well, with real three dimensional people at its heart. It began life at the National Theatre in 2012, and is now getting a stripped-down production for a small theatre space at the Old Red Lion, right by Angel tube station. It’s about a clinical trial of a drug designed to cure depression, and Ms Prebble treads sure-footedly through the minefield of opinions, passions and vested interests this subject lays in her path. Two volunteers, Connie and Tristan, are thrown together; one is given the drug, the other is given a placebo. The doctors then watch to see what will happen, rather in the spirit that they might watch chimpanzees at the zoo. This being a play, what happens is that Tristan and Connie fall in love. The female doctor charged with overseeing the experiment tries to control the situation. “You’re not allowed sexual activity” she says at one point, to no avail. Her male boss is much more interested in learning from it, and shows – the author clearly feels – insufficient care for the well-being of his guinea pigs. The situation is complicated by the fact that the two doctors themselves were an item some years previously, and parted messily. The scene in which this is conveyed to the audience is a model of how it should be done. Neither character tells us the affair happened, but the awkward way they talk to each other tells is everything we need to know. Director Sam Edmunds has given this well structured play a new look, with almost no scenery, and a stage dominated by two beds. It works well: the dialogue and the actors are quite good enough to help us to suspend disbelief, and the play lends itself to being performed in an intimate space. Edmunds has chosen four excellent actors. Standout for me would be Millie Smith as Connie, all nerves and innocence at first. Shadrach Agozino’s Tristan is an excellent foil for her. Sara Odeen-Isbister cleverly conveys the turmoil beneath the carapace of efficient and detached professionalism, and Andrew Pearson-Wright is gruesomely self-satisfied as her boss. If I had a niggle about the acting, it’s that both the men have a tendency to shout too much, and too loudly for the tiny theatre space they are working in. And if I had a niggle about the direction, it’s a spotlight they occasionally turn on the audience. It hurt my eyes, and stopped me seeing the actors. I’ve never understood why some directors torment their audience in this way. Still, this is a really interesting and absorbing night in the theatre, well worth a couple of hours of your time. THE EFFECT at Old Red Lion Playhouse 30 June - 11 July 2026 BOX OFFICE https://weareoldred.co.uk/whats-on/the-effect/ CAST Connie Hall: Millie Smith Tristan Frey: Shadrach Agozino Dr Lorna James: Sara Odeen-Isbister Dr Toby Sealey: Andrew Pearson-Wright PRODUCTION & CREATIVE TEAM Director: Sam Edmunds Producer: Sara Odeen-Isbister Assistant Producer / Stage Manager: Niamh Grace Movement Director / Intimacy Coordinator: Jess Tucker Boyd Set Design: Rob Miles Lighting Design: Sam Edmunds Sound Design: Gabriel Burns Tech Operator: Ryan Kingsbury Graphic Design: Tom Murch Photography: Ali Wright

 ‘Wilkinson Wright’s incredible performance holds this complex story together.’ ★★★ ½ Some lives are remarkable but Rika, a woman in her 70s struggling with dementia, has had several remarkable lives, if only she can remember them. From childhood refugee fleeing Nazi Germany, to a young woman struggling to fit in at a kibbitz in Palestine in the early 1940s, then to raising a family in Apartheid South Africa. She is forced to grow up quickly and never stays still. But now she finds herself confused in a nursing home in England, struggling to remember who she is and who her loved ones are. Gail Louw’s script is based on her novel about her own mother’s life. A solo play, Emma Wilkinson Wright is excellent as Rika. Not only does she play Rika at different ages but voices a whole host of characters in the story, from her sister to lovers and her children. The play, especially at the beginning, is driven by Rika’s confused mind so we flit between different time periods in quick succession, before settling into a more linear(ish) story. Shrubsall’s taut direction means that this never becomes confusing. The deceptively simple set means we can go through different eras and are just about able to keep up with Rika’s hyperactive commentary. With such a full and complicated life, the play sometimes suffers from trying to cover too much ground. The final segment in South Africa, for example, could do with more exploration. But one of the play’s strengths is its unflinching portrayal of dementia and the more extreme manifestations of behaviour that can occur in certain cases; the inappropriate actions and loss of bodily functions. This is juxtaposed with a remarkable and often tragic life. Wilkinson Wright’s incredible performance holds this complex story together. RIKA’S ROOMS written by Gail Louw. Directed by Anthony Shrubsall, Starring Emma Wilkinson-Wright Produced by Oxia Theatre Playing at Tabard Theatre, Chiswick 1 - 25 July 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.tabard.org.uk/production/rikas-rooms Photography: Paddy Gormley

‘the audience was entertained by a cabaret, cruise ship-like carnival entertainment’ ★★★ Rose coloured circus-like tents pitched on the grounds of Shepherd’s Bush Green were the chosen venue of The Lady Boys of Bangkok: Full Moon’s tour of London. Stepping into the tent feels like boarding a cruise ship, complete with a disorienting, swaying sensation beneath your feet as the grassy ground seems to sway away. For the next hour and a half, including a short interval, the audience was entertained by indeed, a cabaret, cruise ship-like carnival entertainment, full of colours, full of dazzling sparkling flamboyant costumes, full of bright feathers, sequins, leotards and lycra. The energy was high, the laser beams were sharp, the high-impact and lively catwalk amongst the audience before some of the performers reached raised platforms set in the middle of the tent, and on each side of the stage, created an immersive experience for the audience. Puppet creatures danced and jumped the night away. The music played non-stop from disco to pop music, musical theatre, club hits, and camp classics. The Sabai Pavilion turned into an entirely unearthly space, where artists and performers danced, flaunted their arms, hips, legs and long straight sleek hair, gave energetic lip-sync performances paying tribute to pop royalty such as Beyoncé, Rihanna, Whitney Houston, Kylie Minogue, and Tina Turner. One of the highlight performances was the impersonation of Tina Turner by the diva slash DJ Ole, whose comedic sketches and magician gig were a breath of ‘fresh air’ amidst the high-tempo dance tracks. Eight of the twelve performers, ladyboys (kathoeys or katoeys) have undergone medical procedures to transform their male anatomy from their birth-assigned gender into females. In Thailand, the society does accept them as a distinct ‘third-gender’ rather than transitioning from male to female. Their rendition of the song ‘This is me’ thus seems so fitting as a proclamation of their new identity and a call for acceptance. Which brought me to question, why? Why do these beings seek to occupy a role in a society that was historically not designed to leave females with many opportunities career wise? Women currently occupy merely 31% of senior leadership roles globally; in parliament women represent 27% of national parliamentarians worldwide; and of the 195 recognised countries in 2026, only 14% representing 28 countries had women as their Heads of State. Women movements are currently facing resistance from authoritarian systems globally. Perhaps these entirely distinct species performers-creatures have understood something about the female state of being, that many women are still grappling with. Perhaps these ‘third-gender’ have undergone an extreme transformation anatomically as an act of advocacy or an act of defiance. Perhaps this is again, simply high commercialisation of the female gender. Hyper commodified femininity and objectification which consumers around the world relentlessly continue to take in, for the sake of entertainment. https://www.ladyboysofbangkok.co.uk/

“A true secret recipe.” ★★★★ ½  If you fancy something different for dinner, I wholeheartedly recommend heading to The Glitch for Some Masterchef Sh*t. In this dark and delectable comedy from Liam High, two men meet for what appears to be nothing more than your typical date. Buttoned-up surgeon, Adam (Harry Freeman), and socially awkward waiter, Luke (George Miller), blunder their way through a series of clumsy questions to try to get to know one another over coffee. The dialogue is agile, believable, and naturally funny, delivered with a breezy ease by Freeman and Miller. Their conversation mixes the fantastically mundane, like jobs, home life, and TV's most memorable moments, with a seasoning of the philosophical, like gender, sexuality, and the politics of identity, all without pretension or self-satisfaction. Blending this together could easily result in a split sauce, but here we've got a fine Roux. Minor spoilers ahead if you want to keep the surprise of where this is going, but over the course of this brilliantly juxtaposed and endearingly bumbling first meeting, it’s gradually revealed through hints and suggestion that something unspeakably deviant has brought them together. Not all is as it seems with this so far relatable date. In fact, it’s not a date at all, but instead: inspired by real-life cases like the "Rotenburg Cannibal", Adam is seeking a man to have round for dinner. Literally. While his fiancée is away, he wants to explore a non-sexual and deep-seated desire to cook and eat a penis. And Luke has agreed. If the premise sounds mad, the true genius of this show is in its ability to convince you otherwise, to weave in such tenderness and relatability that the characters retain their likability and ordinariness. High doesn’t try too hard with his characters here. They stay true to the real world, with their complex desires and motivations explored delicately, and hilariously, through their evolving relationship and the very different situations that led them to this plan. Despite the subject, there is nothing flashy (and I mean that as a compliment) or OTT here, just genuine substance. It’s a one-act two-hander played out over three richly compact scenes (and whether that reflection of form with the traditional three-course meal is intentional or not is pleasing nonetheless). This is a real writers’ play: the words here are doing the work. Though that’s not to understate the direction of James Cave, who has considered all the sightlines and keeps the talky action dynamic. The transitions between the scenes is a touch wide and clunky, and accompanied by incongruous club music – though I must admit, while I'm not sure what that soundtrack is supposed to symbolise among such domestic scenes, it kind of adds to the deliciously seedy undertow, especially with its dark blue lighting reminiscent of a speakeasy sex club. Overall, think strawberry and basil or chilli and chocolate. Not everyone can make these things work. In fringe theatre, using shock subjects not to shock for the sake of it, but to handle with care and universality, is rare. High shows restraint and balance. Not too hot, not too cold, just right. So for all the fun taboo, the meat of this play isn’t really a cooked penis – it’s human connection. And while it has all the basic ingredients of a clean and simple two-hander, what we’re actually served is something entirely different. A true secret recipe. Bon appetit. Some Masterchef Sh*t by Liam High Directed by James Cave https://www.instagram.com/somemasterchefshit/

' more than poetry in motion - this is a novel in motion' ★★★★★ Joyful and exuberant, this troupe lives up to their name again. There certainly are many moving parts to this production of the lesser known Austen novel, Northanger Abbey. From last year’s Vanity Fair extravaganza , Anna Blackburn is back and she keeps her paces as naive 17-year-old Catherine Morland. Her energy is irrepressible and her expressions priceless. Catherine’s passion for Gothic novels, in particular those of Ann Radcliffe, gets her in trouble with her love interest’s family. Dominic Bryant makes a charming young reverend, Henry Tilney, who catches Catherine’s eye (also playing her brother, James, in other scenes). The cast multi-roles, clomps coconuts, and pulls out props at a frenetic pace. Sebastian Kainth performs the odious John Thorpe brilliantly, giving our heroine a pompous villain to recoil from. The endlessly talented Joanna Nevins, often sporting immense curls, is Catherine's two-faced best friend Isabella, Henry's sister Eleanor, and whatever else needs to be done, even making various instrumental sound effects. The music (Tamara Douglas-Morris), indeed, pushes the story forward gorgeously with Anais Tran N’goc’s violin entrancing all. Martin South gives a ferocious General Tilney, while dutifully yelling out chapter headings. Andy Canadine is wonderful as the generous Mrs. Allen of Fullerton and taking up various other roles. The ensemble works together incredibly well and works hard, sometimes creating visual moments of tableau vivant. Simona Hughes directs this cast wonderfully on a set comprising two multi-coloured tent structures behind a tiered-box stage (Max Batty), around which the ensemble create carriages, makeshift dining tables, and use as stairs to the top of the spooky eponymous Abbey. Dark robes and black fans evoked the Gothic, while the women’s costumes resembled Austen Regency period, as a shorthand to which era we were observing. The writing trio of Hughes, Nevin, and South know how to take a classic and compress it to capture its essence, while the cast brings the spirit and energy. In this piece they incorporated a group of modern-day students discussing the novel and the period of Austen’s works, especially the expectations of women of Regency England. This addition allows social commentary, as they note the contrast of the fear of spooky halls with the real concerns of Austen’s time of social class and women’s limited roles. There are, of course, moments that can’t be fully written in. As Catherine grabs an audience member’s electric fan, in awe, from a picnic blanket, regaling at the ‘modernities’ being shown on her utterly dull tour of Northanger Abbey, she creates her own laughs. Despite the satire, Gothic themes, and class analysis, there is such a joy in this troupe’s production, even during a heatwave at an outdoor venue! This show is more than poetry in motion - this is novel in motion. And this troupe truly can move us. Photography: Jason Harris NORTHANGER ABBEY presented by Moving Parts Summer 2026 Dates & Venues – Moving Parts Theatre Written and co-created by Simona Hughes, Joanna Nevin, Martin South Performed by Anna Blackburn, Dominic Bryant, Andy Canadine, Sebastian Kainth, Joanna Nevin, Martin South, Anais Tran N’goc (also violinist) Directed by Simona Hughes Composer / Music Director: Tamara Douglas-Morris Movement Director: Nevana Stojkov Costume Design: Anna Pearshouse Designer: Max Batty Produced by Simona Hughes, Joanna Nevin, Martin South

‘Alnwick plays the crowd with delight and gusto’ ★★★ ½ As it’s the World Cup it is quite apt that this is literally ‘a show of two halves’ - both of them full of attacking flair but perhaps not a fully satisfying and coherent 90 minutes. The Signalman is one of Charles Dickens’ most beloved ghostly short stories and has been performed widely on stage and as a radio play. Master illusionist and mentalist David Alnwick has had a long time fascination with ghosts and ghostly goings on - and with Dickens. It’s a little known fact that Charles Dickens himself once toured as a necromancer and, in the fittingly gorgeous surroundings of Wilton’s Music Hall, it seems apt that an evening of Victorian magic and storytelling can and will come together. Alnwick - unknown to me before this show - is a fascinating character. With clear nods to the great Derren Brown, he is a confident and assured performer who plays his audience as, by turns, learned confidantes and complete idiots. Dressed himself as something of a Dickensian street performer, his suitcase of tricks confound and delight for the first hour as playing cards levitate, random facts and connections are derived with that air of ‘this isn’t quite going right’ when, in fact, of course it’s part of the show. Alnwick plays the crowd with delight and gusto - all really good stuff. The final third of the evening sees our showman double down on this love of ghost stories and, with the aid of some clever lighting and mildly bombastic but engaging delivery, the tale of The Signalman and the spooky apparition who has been haunting him unfolds. The story builds slowly but precisely and Alnwick holds his crowd throughout bringing Dicken’s vivid language to life. Alnwich sets up the connection between Dickens, magic, the Victorian era and the story really nicely and yet the evening always feels like the aforementioned ‘show of two halves’. This is fine but for a smart guy performing an oft presented show, maybe Alnwick could weave these halves together to form a more clearly defined whole. His storytelling is consummate albeit that one is never really ‘scared’ and the ending feels a little underwhelming, But, this a talented performer giving the audience a good value night out - maybe not Premier League but certainly a top tier Championship offering. THE SIGNALMAN An evening of Victorian illusions and ghost stories with occult illusionist David Alnwick at Wilton Music Hall, 29 June - 1 July, 3 September BOX OFFICE The Signalman - Wilton's Music Hall

“it is great to have live music exploding on the Etcetera stage.” ★★★ Woody Guthrie was a titan of America folk music in the 1930s and 1940s. Although he is now (unfortunately) mainly remembered as the primary influence on the young Bob Dylan, who modelled his original look and sound on him, Guthrie’s life story is much more important than being a bit part player in Dylan’s life. Australian theatre company Nuworks tackle Woody’s story with great energy and little sentiment. Guthrie’s racism in his early career, the domestic violence and alcoholism, are all unflinching portrayed. Written and directed by David Dunn, the play does not sanitise his radical politics either – his communism and later civil rights work are all captured. As the title echoes, Guthrie had a sign on his guitar saying “This Machine Kills Fascists” and during World War Two, after an initial anti-war stance, he produced some memorable anti-Nazi anthems. The music is key, and the ensemble cast throw themselves into the story, from his early life in Oklahoma through dustbowl America to the New York music and left-wing scene. They also throw themselves into the barnstorming music with gusto, with some songs reimagined. Guthrie, played with great swagger by Spencer Ballantyne, had a tragic life, losing a sister and daughter in house fires, and seeing his mother suffer and ultimately die from Huntington’s disease, which he developed himself and meant he was largely incapacitated in his later years. At times the play struggles to tell the story clearly and you can get lost in the complexities of dustbowl America, the American left during the war years, and the post-war HUAC retribution. The large number of characters, Guthrie’s wives, Pete Seeger and other musicians, don’t have too much chance to develop, but of course the focus is on Guthrie, although the cast do take turns in singing lead on the songs and it is great to have live music exploding on the Etcetera stage. The talented company are alternating performing this play with one about a quite different musical era – the UK punk 1970s scene – also at the same venue and touring. Nuworks Theatre presents THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS written and directed by David Dunn Music by David Dunn, Lydia Saroto, and Michael Saroto-Noble  Tickets and tour information: https://www.instagram.com/nuworkstheatre/

‘vibrant and playful’ ★★★ “Woman Business” is ambitious. The one-person play sets out to explore four distinct stages of Diya’s life within its tight seventy-minute runtime: her time as a precocious twelve-year-old dreaming of nabbing her friend’s hand-me-down saris; her experiences as a wife and mother after moving to London; her attempts to grieve under the watchful (and often judgemental) eyes of her family and friends in later life; and finally, her time as an older woman who can no longer separate the real from the mythical, or the present from the past. In many ways, the play is reminiscent of Eline Arbo’s “The Years,” particularly in its exploration of the multitudes that exist within one person across a lifetime. There is a lot to enjoy about the play. Under Frances Bodiam’s direction, the production is vibrant and playful. The stage is bedecked with colourful fabrics. Shelton Wong’s lighting design complements this with multicoloured light sequences that are reminiscent of a disco. Similarly, Nick Wells’s sound design is lively and vivid, bringing to life soundscapes that range from the bustling streets of Mumbai to the stifled silence of a hospital ward. Above all, actor-writer Shilpa Varma’s energetic performance gives the play a much-needed dynamism. I especially enjoyed Varma’s portrayal of twelve-year-old Diya: she plays her with a gusto and innocence that made me instantly take to the character. The play also spotlights a number of themes that feel important – most centrally, the experiences of a South Asian woman navigating womanhood, migration, and family expectations. Personally, I found it fascinating to gain insight into cultural traditions and Hindu practices and beliefs that were unfamiliar to me. However, I found the focus of the play somewhat dispersed. There is a great deal introduced across the four timeframes that could have provided the fuel for a compelling piece of drama: a woman’s changing attitudes towards marriage; how someone who marries young navigates the feeling that her ambitions have been stifled; the expectations placed on widows around what constitutes “appropriate” behaviour; and mother-child relationships. However, while the play very effectively plants all of these threads, few feel developed. Similarly, it felt as though none of Diya’s relationships had the space to deepen. Soon after a potentially fascinating relationship is introduced – be that between Diya and her mother, husband, or children – the play jumps forwards in time, leaving much of that dynamic behind. As an audience member, I wanted something to hold onto and follow across the four stages of Diya’s life, but instead the different sections often felt disjointed. I was left unsure why these particular moments were the ones we were made privy to, and what the overarching dramatic thread connecting them was. Nonetheless, it is a pleasure to spend seventy minutes with Diya, particularly because of the warmth and energy Varma brings to the role.  Woman Business Jack Studio Theatre 23 – 27 June 2026 Box Office https://brockleyjack.co.uk/jackstudio-entry/woman-business/#toggle-id-3 written and performed by Shilpa Varma directed by Frances Bodiam presented by Footfalls Theatre Company Photo credit is Anna Mclaren

‘Fifty dancers become crowd, community, machine and organism all at once.’ ★★★★ ½ Stephanie Lake’s Colossus is a work of scale, pressure and collective energy. Performed by the students of London Contemporary Dance School, the piece brings fifty dancers onto the stage and asks them to move, listen and respond as one shifting body. The opening is immediately striking. The dancers stand together in a dense formation. Small gestures begin to pass through the group: a hand lifts, a head turns, a body folds, another responds. The effect is simple but powerful. The stage becomes a field of signals, each movement setting off another somewhere else. Lake’s choreography is at its strongest when the cast of fifty appears as one enormous body. Energy passes from dancer to dancer, sometimes through a small gesture, sometimes through a sudden shift of weight or direction. The group does not simply move at the same time; it seems to breathe and react as a single organism. This sense of shared impulse gives the work much of its visual power. The dancers move in waves, circles and tight clusters, forming patterns that change before they can settle. At times, they appear almost mechanical, driven by rhythm and repetition. At others, the movement feels more human, uncertain and exposed. With so many bodies on stage, precision becomes more than a technical demand. It becomes a question of trust. Each dancer has to stay alert to the space, the timing and the people around them. They must keep moving while allowing others to pass, fall, turn or interrupt. This gives the piece much of its tension. It always feels close to disorder, but rarely loses control. There are moments when individual dancers briefly come into focus. A solo phrase, a sudden break from the group, or a sharper physical accent allows one performer to appear more clearly. These moments are often short. The dancer is soon absorbed back into the mass. That return is important. Colossus is not interested in individual display for long. It keeps asking what happens when a single body is held inside a larger collective force. The most effective sections are those where rhythm gathers across the full cast. Feet strike the floor, bodies pulse, and repeated gestures become almost overwhelming. A small action, multiplied by fifty dancers, becomes something much larger: a crowd, a machine, a ritual, or a body too big to control. The quieter passages are just as important. When the movement reduces into stillness or minimal gesture, the stage remains active. The dancers continue to watch and listen. These moments reveal the discipline behind the spectacle. The power of Colossus is not only in its speed or scale, but in the attention required to hold such a large structure together. As a graduation performance, the work is a demanding choice. It gives the students little chance to hide. Everyone is visible, and everyone is responsible for the rhythm of the whole. The cast meet that challenge with commitment and alertness. There is youthful energy, but also a serious understanding of ensemble work. Colossus does not need a clear narrative to make its point. It shows how bodies can gather, separate, obey, resist and return. It makes social pressure visible through movement. The dancers become crowd, community, machine and organism all at once. By the end, the stage feels both exhausted and charged. The group has built something larger than itself and then had to survive inside it. This is a bold UK debut for Lake’s work, and a strong final statement from the LCDS students. Colossus is impressive not simply because there are fifty dancers on stage, but because those dancers are made to think, move and respond together. The result is a performance of collective force, full of pressure, risk and restless energy. Box Office

‘if you’re tired of men getting to tell all those hilarious jokes that you aren’t meant to laugh at then Rida is your antidote’ ★★★ Suddenly taken by her father from her UK home, Samia Rida learnt to turn dangerous situations into a joke long before she was flown out to Saudi Arabia as an 8-year old with her two siblings. As a child of a dysfunctional family, filled with domestic abuse, alcoholism and a disabled brother, Rida hasn’t been afraid since a child to laugh at what other comedians wouldn’t touch with a barge pole. Freshly out of last year’s Edinburgh Fringe, her new solo-show reveals all the earmarks of a seasoned writer trained by the BBC Writersroom. But where Rida comes into her own is in her fearless, cackling jokes that poke fun at the grimmest and most sombre of realities. With some stricter direction or, in fact, the entire removal of most movement across the stage, this could be one hell of a production. When local press discovered that Rida went on a kind of enforced holiday with her Saudi Arabian father it was labelled as a kidnap. In the paper the next day, Rida’s Welsh mother who was left unawares at home could be seen appearing on the phone to her husband “looking like she was ordering a Dominoes pizza”. Herein lies the inspiration for the whole show and Rida is at her best when telling the darkest moments of her life in the lightest of tones. Much of Kidnap’s beginning, filled with wise and hilarious cracks at British sentimentality, feels like a warm-up to the jokes she really wants to tell about her own life. If you’re a fan of Ricky Gervais, and Jimmy Carr for that matter, then Rida is another to add to your list. In fact, if you’re tired of men getting to tell all those hilarious jokes that you aren’t meant to laugh at then Rida is your antidote. If you’re British and don’t like getting your feelings hurt then do just stay at home. There is still some work to do with this production’s execution. Rida’s previous performances in Breeders, Rebel and Tell Me About Yourself — where she won Best International Actors Award — serve as sufficient proof of her ability. Kidnap itself suffers from repeated cycles of movement and appears too restless to make theatre out of what is best left as a very entertaining form of narrative stand-up. It’s great to see the performance supporting a charity dedicated to helping carers of the disabled and speaking out on uncomfortable truths that often get underplayed. With some quick edits, the performance could certainly be one of the best of its kind. Box Office Written by Samia Rida Directed by Gareth Edwards Produced by Meg Shepherd, in association with Drayton Arms Theatre Photography: Lo Augusta

‘Playful, strained, structured and celebratory… across four works, INTERPLAY reveals Phoenix Dance Theatre’s versatility’ ★★★★ ½ Phoenix Dance Theatre’s Interplay brings together four works that approach connection from different angles: intimacy, rhythm, domestic tension and collective release. As a mixed bill, the evening creates a progression of energies moving from the compact intensity of duet work to the expansive pulse of ensemble dancing. The opening work, Marcus Jarrell Willis’s ‘Next of Kin’, is striking in its concision. The choreography feels tightly constructed and continuously connected, with each movement seeming to grow naturally out of the previous one. There is no sense of excess. The relationship between the dancers is established quickly, yet it remains layered: playful, intimate, competitive and slightly unresolved. Its ending comes almost too soon, leaving a feeling of incompletion in the best sense. The work does not over-explain itself; it finishes while its energy is still alive, creating a sense of being left wanting more. Ed Myhill’s ‘Why Are People Clapping?!’ shifts the evening into a more experimental mode. Built around rhythm, repetition and the act of clapping, the piece is playful in concept and precise in execution. Its central idea is immediately clear, yet the choreography keeps testing how far a simple action can be stretched. Clapping becomes sound, structure, humour and social behaviour. The work’s strength lies in the clarity of its experiment: it takes something ordinary and turns it into a choreographic system. At times, the concept feels more dominant than the emotional content, but that is also part of its appeal. It invites the audience to watch rhythm being made visible through the body. The third work, ‘Small Talk’ by Travis Knight and James Pett, is perhaps the most theatrically complete piece of the evening. Even without reading the programme notes, the audience can sense the questions at the heart of the work: how people communicate, how intimacy becomes strained, and how ordinary domestic life can hold unspoken tension. The choreography is particularly effective because it does not depend only on partnering or emotional expression. The carpet, sofa and floor lamp create a lived-in environment, giving the dancers a spatial and psychological frame to move within. These objects are not decorative. They shape the atmosphere of the work, turning the stage into a domestic interior where closeness and distance are constantly renegotiated. What makes Small Talk compelling is the way its choreographic language allows the audience to read the relationship without needing verbal explanation. The dancers’ approaches, withdrawals, pauses and collisions suggest the difficulty of speaking honestly within a shared space. Small gestures accumulate meaning. A shift in weight, a change of direction, or a moment of stillness can reveal frustration, fatigue or tenderness. The work is strong because its subject is legible through movement itself. The final piece, ‘Suite Release’, choreographed by Yusha-Marie Sorzano and Marcus Jarrell Willis, brings a different kind of energy to the evening. Its greatest strength is its rhythm. The dancers move with a strong sense of musicality, allowing groove, pulse and ensemble energy to carry the work forward. After the more contained world of Small Talk, this final section opens the stage into something broader and more communal. The rhythm does not simply accompany the movement; it drives it. The dancers appear to ride the music, passing energy across the group and creating a sense of release. As a closing work, ‘Suite Release’ gives the programme a necessary lift. It celebrates the pleasure of moving together and allows individual expression to emerge within a collective structure. The piece is less psychologically focused than ‘Small Talk’, but it succeeds through atmosphere, musical force and shared momentum. Its rhythmic vitality gives the evening a satisfying final charge. Across the four works, Interplay reveals Phoenix Dance Theatre’s versatility. The company moves between compact duet, conceptual experiment, domestic drama and rhythm-driven ensemble work with confidence. Not every piece operates in the same register, but together they create a varied and engaging evening. The strongest moments come when the choreography allows the central idea of each work to be felt directly through the body: the unfinished tension of Next of Kin, the experimental clarity of Why Are People Clapping?!, the spatial intelligence of Small Talk, and the rhythmic drive of Suite Release. Interplay is ultimately a programme about how bodies communicate before, beyond, and sometimes in place of words. It shows connection as playful, strained, structured and celebratory. At its best, it reminds us that dance does not need to explain a relationship in order to make us feel its complexity. Box Office

‘truly original … but the show’s execution leaves much to be desired’ ★★ Karate Man is the perfect show for control freaks, helicopter parents and their gamer children alike. “Change player,” shouts the tech system, and some poor Londoner, having failed a tricky mission, must swing the remote controller to the next audience member. Performed at The Hen & Chickens Theatre Bar, the world’s first playable live-action comedy show arrives in Islington with mixed success. Its concept is truly original and, let me repeat, there is nothing like this kind of performance anywhere else. But the show’s execution leaves much to be desired. Using custom-made software that attempts to run the show like a video game, remote-control signals are sent to a tech desk by an audience member which responds by creating sound cue for the cast. Press X (Kick) and Karate Man, the protagonist, will kick for you on stage. The game mimics some of the most celebrated brawler games, such as Mortal Kombat and The Injustice franchise but in real time in front of you. For those who aren’t familiar with these games, imagine the movement of fencing combined with the kicking, jumping and punching of boxing or karate. The script is simple enough. In a flashback, Karate Man, a mute but energetic husband, fights the ‘bad guys’ around Karatetown until he reaches a head-to-head with supervillain Ross Roundkick. Awakening from this dream, Karate Man gets out of bed with his concerned wife who is frustrated that he only communicates through karate. Whilst Karate Man is an adept martial artist, hence the name, ordinary life and domestic tasks are a bit more of a challenge. It is up to the audience not only to help him out but also to choose his path. Think of a Choose Your Own Adventure book or role-playing Game Board Game. Bruno Dubosarsky, as Karate Man, works through a tough stint. With current temperatures soaring above 30°, it is merely impressive that he manages the whole way through the production. The performances by Alexandra Smith and Maddie Houlbrook-Walk could also be tightened but a lack of a fully formed female character in this work also hinders its success. Where the remote control system works like a dream, the narratives themselves often felt sloppy. Even though these story arcs are highly ambitious, employing recon missions from Assassins Creed and card-game features in which audience members play against an opponent, they need to be more tightly wound together. Much enjoyment is still to be had for family audiences and this reviewer will always commend any work that attempts something that has never been attempted before. Still, the winner of Best Interactive Show at the Adelaide Fringe and recipient of other awards from the Sydney Festival, must look to the performance of its individual cast members for improvement. Box Office https://karatemanshow.com/ Photography: Alex Gabbott

‘a good play does not need to dress up if what lies underneath works’ ★★★★ “Why would you want to change a face like that?” a cast of characters exclaim at multiple points to a man who has become drop-dead gorgeous after facial surgery. Yet Lette, an accomplished electrical engineer, struggles to explain the weight that his new skin has left upon the person underneath. Produced by the conveniently named Broken Nose Theatre Company at The White Bear Theatre, Marius von Mayenburg’s The Ugly One provides no advertisement for extreme beauty standards. It begins when Lette discovers that his work colleagues have been hiding something from him. Arriving home, it falls to his wife to tell him that he’s not just ugly but unspeakably so, and he decides to snap his face into shape. After Lette’s successful surgery, he emerges now as a veritable Narcissus with men, women and very old female oil tycoons, falling at his feet. Running for just over an hour, The Ugly One is a cautionary and symbolic tale about the hazards of beauty, plastic surgery and rapid metamorphosis. It’s another great rendition of a play that has a proven track record. The script has many of the qualities of a well-made Greek tragedy. The traditional style is formed through Lette’s rise from nobody to celebrity—with all the typical excesses of hubris and pride—only for him to fall out with his manufacturing company, his wife and all his other lovers as a matter of course. All slips away whilst the plastic surgeon, who built his winning face, then sells its design to the public for a quick buck. Though parading around as satire and farce in early sequences, the work reveals itself as a darker social commentary when Lette nearly jumps from a high building, only to be saved by another man wearing his own face. The phrase, “I love me”, echoes ironically around when the penultimate lines shared by both doppelgangers are spoken. Like Lette, the play has tried on the appearances of many theatres across London and it’s not even this director’s first rodeo. Ramin Gray staged the play’s 2007 English-language premiere downstairs at the Royal Court Theatre, as well as a Russian production in Moscow. Though much less grand than its previous staging, this production serves as a reminder that a good play does not need to dress up if what lies underneath works. The international cast for this run is what makes this production unique. Irishman John Rice from Kilkenny, Russian-American actor Michael Tcherepashenets., with Anastasia Velique and German Segal from Russia have neither their identities, nor their accents stripped away. Apart from blackouts, there was little in the way of lighting or tech. No need for such elaborate facades with a script so rich in language, so questioning of its central premise and so wonderfully obscure. My only criticism comes for the production company making such a safe bet with a work so destined to please. But then, ‘why change a play like this for something new.’ THE UGLY ONE by by Marius Von Mayenburg White Bear Theatre, Kennington 15th–28th June 2026 Box Office Creative Team Director — Ramin Gray Associate Director — Joshua Herberg Cast John Rice German Segal Michael Tcherepashenets Anastasia Velique Photographer: Alina Saffron

‘stories like this should continue to be told’ ★★★ ½ A Fine Idea , a new play by Christine Bacon, based on Jason Hickel’s book The Divide , is set in Kenya in 2024, and deals with the hidden truths surrounding the ‘international development’ plan, first introduced by President Truman. In 90 minutes, the four actors onstage uncover the daunting secrets surrounding the involvements of governments in the global class divide. The story follows Jo (Ella Bryant’s brilliant stage debut), a young, naïve, British woman working in aid, as she moves to Nairobi, Kenya, for a humanitarian project. A former British colony, almost half of Kenya’s population lives in conditions of extreme poverty. But Jo arrives full of dreams and hopes to make a difference. Her grandfather Ben Hardy himself introduced the idea of ‘international development’ into Truman’s speech back in the 1950s, and now here she finds herself, 75 years later, following his footsteps. From the start it is clear that Jo is obviously well intended but nonetheless quite ignorant. The first scene – which is a juxtaposition of her job interview and her grandparents pitching the ‘fine idea’ of the ‘international development’ to Truman – shows us what we deep down already know: the plan is a way for the US and Global North to exploit raw materials and resources from the third world while hiding behind a cover of ‘aid’ and blaming poverty on ‘the curse of [European] colonialism’ while the US would aim to ‘make them prosper’. The scene is darkly humourous and almost satirical. ‘I need a term that is empty enough to be incontestable’ declares Ben before finding ‘international development’. Over the moon with their finding, Jo’s grandparents sing together, a song resembling ironically ‘We Are the World’, while Jo finishes her interview before setting off to Kenya, thrilled at the idea of helping people in need. When she meets Kala, a local activist fighting the Kenyan government, her world and what she knows starts to crumble. Bacon’s writing is witty and feels fully researched. It isn’t preachy, or lecturing the audience, it is sincere: ‘A Fine Idea’ is a story we aren’t hearing enough of at the moment. What is most interesting is how entertaining the play is. It moves at great pace: from magic tricks to a surreal surgery, the many metaphors appeared throughout the play, directed skilfully by Charlotte Westenra, expose brutally yet with great humour the wrong doings of the IMF (International Monetary Fund) and governments. Grace Saif (who play Kala) is remarkable. Her fiery energy, moving from impeccable comedic timing to heart-breaking tragedy carries the show, and completes Ella Bryant’s sweet and subtle performance. I only hope stories like ‘A Fine Idea’ continue to be told. Photography: Beatice Updegraff A FINE IDEA A theatrical response to Jason Hickel’s bestseller The Divide Written by Christine Bacon, Directed by Charlotte Westenra Arcola Theatre 10 June - 4 July 2026 BOX OFFICE https://www.arcolatheatre.com/event/a-fine-idea/ The Company Ella Bryant Jo Georgina Rich Laura / Christine Grace Saif Kala Kevin Trainor Ben / Elio Christine Bacon Writer Charlotte Westenra Director Matthew Schmolle for Matthew Schmolle Productions General Manager Georgia Wilmot Set Designer Emma Williams Costume Designer Hartley T A Kemp Lighting Designer Tom Smith Sound Designer Gurkiran Kaur Vocal & Accent Coach Jonny Berliner Composer Kev McCurdy Fight and Movement Director Lewis Champney Production Manager for eStage Laura Whittle Stage Manager Genevieve Papadopoulos Assistant Stage Manager Nadine Rennie CDG Casting Director John Bulleid Illusion Designer Muniira Ali Assistant Director Chris May Assistant Lighting Designer Eleni Foundoukis Costume Supervisor Anne Dillow at Möbius Marketing

'the joys of cooking' ★★★★ Previously called Becoming Nigella , the musical by Emily Rose Simons, had a title change to the more apt How to Make a Mess . Hearing the byline, I imagined something like the semi-biographical film, Nora Ephron’s Julie & Julia , in which Amy Adams and Meryl Streep play characters whose lives become entwined when Julie starts a blog about cooking each of Julia Child’s recipes from Childs' first book about French cooking over a year. (An interesting foodie aside: Stanley Tucci, who plays Childs’ husband, can be found with his own recipes in the cookbook section lately.) Rather, this story takes us to the aching heart of Anna (Natasha Karp), who lost her father to another family when she was young and is now about to lose her until-recently-estranged mother. On the evening of her birthday, she opens Nigella Lawson’s seminal book, How to Eat , a past gift from her father, and, much like rubbing a genie’s bottle, the domestic goddess (Tanya Truman) herself appears (this is more than an apparition caused by the edibles Anna took). In some ways a formulaic recipe to conjure up, and yet somehow, it works; and Nigella is embedded into Anna’s kitchen and life. Anna is quite the opposite of Nigella. She doesn’t cook, doesn’t want to cook, and even orders her morning coffee to be delivered. Thus, a new chapter begins. Nigella arrives with steamy looks at the audience (expected), slightly salacious comments, and starts off with a red feather boa over a red sequined apron atop her tight-fitting red dress. Truman musters the famously sensual version of the famous TV chef. However, she evolves into more counselor than cook to Anna, who lives an active social life where nobody really knows her. Anna doesn’t even let her workplace know her mother is dying. Our diva becomes her confidante and support system. There is melancholy in this piece, but it is not overly sentimental, such as with the song “How Will I Say Goodbye?”. The real energy, however, erupts when the cooking begins - the making of a mayonnaise, splitting eggs and dropping oil “from an elegant height” - but that happens only halfway through the show. The instrumental trio, positioned next to the kitchen, was on point with keyboards, cello, and reeds (flute, alto sax, and clarinet) pushing the musical narrative forward perfectly. The music is uplifting and at times meditative; the most memorable pieces are the duets, with high energy and musical punctuation. When the pair sings “Nothing Like My Mother”, they belt out their piece facing each other directly and it is riveting. I wanted to know more about Nigella’s relationship with her mother after the song, but the lyrics only indicate early labour as a child, referring to “tiny feet on adult chairs”. Perhaps, much like a real life counselor, this Nigella is not talking (or rather, singing) too much about herself. The set has a kitchen I would like to cook in (meticulously designed by Christianna Mason), with its teal and white decor, central island, and clean lines. If house porn is more your thing than food porn, this may be reason alone to see the show. One thing that strangely feels at odds with the realistic set is at the pinnacle of Nigella’s wooing of Anna to the gourmande side: several types of large models of hanging cheese drop down from the grid. It may serve to remind us that this Nigella may or may not be a spirit or a djinn, but it felt a bit jarring to see large pieces of papier-maché cheese making an appearance, even if it was for a lesson in how to taste. The dialogue has moments of humour between the diametrically opposed characters. At one point Nigella asks Anna what mental condition she has. Is it grief? “No, you.” comes the reply. The ever-confident Nigella retorts, “We should all have such a condition.” Nigella might be the genie, but as with all who grant wishes, she eventually disappears, and Anna has to face her real ghosts - building her relationship with her father. There is much connection between food and family in this piece. As in Julie & Julia, there is a key dish that has to be mastered and roast chicken is the one for Anna, not because of complexity, but because of familial memory. As someone who was very late to cooking myself (yes, there are others like Anna), many of Nigella’s words of wisdom to Anna, oft quoted from the book, spoke to me: “Although it's possible to love eating without being able to cook, I don't believe you can ever really cook unless you love eating.” Such quips served to remind the audience of the joys of cooking and how sensual an experience it is, as only Nigella can. The lyrics in this piece have a way of speaking to the heart as much as the dialogue, even if the tunes disappear from memory. Even as the characters make a mess in the kitchen, Anna learns to accept the mess in her heart. And the viewer needs to accept that this production is more of a simmer than a boil. HOW TO MAKE A MESS at Upstairs at the Gatehouse 16 - 28 June 2026 BOX OFFICE Written by Emily Rose Simons Performed by Natasha Karp,Tanya Truman Music performed by David Merriman, Josie Campbell, Ruth Whybrow Directed by Grace Taylor Musical Direction and Arrangements by David Merriman Set and Costume Designer: Christianna Mason Lighting Designer: Chris McDonnell Sound Designer: Richard Carter Produced by Tanya Truman Productions Photography: Danny Kaan

' a clever, homely set-up that makes you feel welcome ' Make a slideshow of your life and relate it to a phrase or word. Steven Silverman's show and indeed, it is a 'show' rather than exactly theatre began in LA over twenty years ago and has now come to London. The whole performance feels like a pastime we used to entertain ourselves with during lockdown. You know the kind of thing: families returning to age-old stories about their ancestry, the person they loved before their partner, or a time when they made a real fool of themselves. Three performers (though storytellers might be a better word), tell personal stories about what it means to be 'love-struck' in this performance, making the most of Silverman's simple yet effective set-up. The line-up changes each night as Silverman, the show's creator and director, invites different friends to come up and deliver a tale. Of course, the talent varies, just as the stories themselves range from comic to tragic and everything in between. It's all part of the charm but, as Silverman mentioned at the beginning of the show, I would say that if he wishes to broaden its appeal to a British audience, he really needs at least one Brit performing. This reviewer felt somewhat pulled at the heart strings by the show's final story, in which Silverman described the passing of his three dogs. Many tears were shed among the dog lovers in the audience. It was an honest and open tribute to our best furry friends, reminding us that while romantic partners often take centre stage when we think about love, so too should pets, family and friends. Overall, it's difficult to make any promises about what you'll encounter at Slideshow, as the show changes every month that it runs. What can be said with certainty is that it's a clever, homely set-up that makes you feel welcome and will almost certainly leave you smiling. Box Office

‘By God, this was good stuff’ ★★★★ In mid 2019 I took a small punt on seeing a new musical with an odd name at the wonderful New Diorama Theatre. It was rough and ready, a sprawling cast of characters, and had a myriad of songs covering genre after genre which were maybe trying a bit too hard. But the story was great (and true!), the performers were fantastic and the songs were hilariously funny. It had something. Fast forward to mid 2026, this time with my reviewing hat on, I took a small punt on a new musical with an odd name at the wonderful Jack Studio Theatre. And, yes reader, it has something. 10k? Jog On! (awful name for a show) tells the tale of Charlie and Nick, two absolute bumbling wasters who learn about the untimely passing of an old friend and decide to do something to honour his memory. As they are complete losers they don’t attempt anything too grand and land on running a 10km (which for plot purposes keeps things simple but means that we get an extraordinary number of songs about, essentially, being in the gym). For 90 minutes the jeopardy appears to be whether they will in fact do the run, complete the run and maybe become better people as a result. And that’s it. In truth, the twosome are wholly irritating and their banter grates throughout. I’m not sure what age they are meant to be (early 20’s I guess) but surely no one is this dimwitted? Charlie has broken up with his girlfriend and has disappeared to live on Nick’s sofa and everything is an effort. We don’t know how and if they earn money, we don’t know how Nick can afford his flat and we don’t truly get to the bottom of why they've 'dropped’ their old friend other than ‘we just couldn’t be bothered’. So, a lack of characterisation and a lack of depth combines with a series of choppy scenes largely set in a gym or the aforementioned flat. Yet, against the odds, it’s a joy. I’ll be honest, my heart sank during the first 5 or 10 minutes as these guys were so very irritating and, combined with ‘jaunty’ video and graphical inserts on a big screen at the back of the stage, I thought I was at some kind of horrific student union ‘thing’. But, with lyrics and writing by Tom Watson (who also plays Charlie), a series of lovely performances by a hardworking cast, and some truly inspired meta-theatrical references (some obvious, some subtle) it soon becomes clear that these guys know what they are about. With sharp and busy direction from Hannah Lochhead and jaunty tunes from composer Sam Wells, the silly story is brilliantly won over by the smartness of the storytelling itself. As Charlie and Nick, Tom Watson and Nicholas Southcott have an easy way with one another and, by extension, with the audience who, even allowing for friends and family, loved it. Their interplay is smart, both can sing well enough and remarkably, end up being both likeable and believable. The supporting cast are all given their moments in the sun and each plays a number of incidental characters but has a central one which they can own (nb very much like that show at the New Diorama). Thus, George Teller as ridiculous PT Trey is funny and athletic (with a decent voice), debutant Scarlett Irish as Megan lands her big solo tune and standout Chloe Way clowns and gurns to pretty much steal the show (reminding me of the great Katy Owen, a Kneehigh alumnus). The ending payoff is weak, it sags at times, some of the transitions are messy and the video content needs to be smarter - or junked. But, by God, this was good stuff. I just really really hope that this group - Planet Sin Productions - go away, finesse it and go again. - and repeat. So - 2019 Operation Mincemeat. 2026 - 10k? Jog On! A long, long way to go but - Sail on, boys (& girls). Sail on. 10k? Jog On! JACK STUDIO THEATRE 9 - 13 June 10k? Jog On! • Jack Studio Theatre Writer and Lyricist: Tom Watson Composer and Musical Director: Sam Wells Director: Hannah Lochhead Video Design: Tom Watson Sound Operator: Sam Wells Set Design: Zeke Eliasberg Lighting design: Elliott Shepard Light operator: Leon Andrews Filmed segments DOP: James Duncan Presented by Planet Sin Productions Nick: Nicholas Southcott Charlie: Tom Watson Trey: George Deller Megan: Scarlett Irish Pilly: Chloe Way Male understudy: Tom Holt Female understudy: Hannah Lochhead Jamie (voice and video): Matt Peebles ‘10K for dummies’ voice: Oliver Britten

‘Credit to the Finborough Theatre for staging Soldiers of Tomorrow, which is essential viewing at this time.’ ★★★★ Although a great deal is written about the current conflict(s) in the middle-east, it is rare in the UK, especially on the London stage, to hear from those directly involved. This one-man play, written (with Colleen Murphy) and performed by Itai Erdal, an Israeli writer who has lived in Canada for decades, but like so many Israelis did his national service with the Israeli Defence Force (in the 1990s). Erdal is a charismatic and engaging performer, and is joined onstage by musician Emad Armoush, who provides a live soundtrack. He intersperses his own family history (his parents emigrated from Turkey to Israel in the 1960s) with the history of the region. Although originally written three years ago, the references are up-to-date, with Erdal emphasising the events of October 7 can’t be understood without knowing the longer history of the region back to 1948 and before, which is needed to truly comprehend the full extent of the injustice suffered by the Palestinian people. The main narrative of the play centres around his national service and his regret and shame over this period, and more generally how military service is ingrained in Israeli society. Erdal also speaks about a more hopeful time for change among leftist Israeli citizens such as himself that ended with the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin in 1995. The play is naturally sombre whilst never losing hope. Armoush’s playing of the Oud, which is never intrusive, enhances the storytelling. The set (designed by Brian Ball with art by Juliette Demoulin), hinting at military fatigues with toy soldiers as props, is used well to convey the complex and challenging stories. A key part of the play is the after-show discussion, which is offered every night. Erdal reflected how he didn’t learn about many of the events in 1948 (termed the Al-Nakba/“the catastrophe” among Palestinians) until the invention of Youtube, when he discovered things he was never taught in school. The production has been controversial and many theatres in different countries have refused to stage it. It has faced protests, on the one side for not being Zionist enough (from the right), and on the other for centring Israeli guilt at the expense of Palestinian voices (from the left). Erdal agrees with the latter point and emphasises the need for Palestinian voices to be heard on stage, and this feels vital and a challenge to UK Theatre. Credit to the Finborough Theatre for staging Soldiers of Tomorrow, which is essential viewing at this time. SOLDIERS OF TOMORROW written by Itai Erdal with Colleen Murphy. Playing at the Finborough Theatre until July 4 2026 https://www.finboroughtheatre.co.uk/productions/soldiers-of-tomorrow Performed by Itai Erdal Crew Music Composed and Performed by Emad Armoush Directed by Anita Rochon Set Design by Brian Ball Scenic Art by Juliette Demoulin Lighting Design by Alan Brodie Presented by The Elbow Theatre in association with Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre. Supported by Canada Council for the Arts and British Columbia Arts Council Production Photos by Matt Reznek

'Funny and clever but overloaded' ★★★ Where would art be without the twin poles of love and death? These strands weave through the performing and visual arts from the year dot and forever. Our relationships with these subjects, their absence or presence, will shape all our lives for good or ill. Stories For Boys , is an eat-as-much-as-you-can theatrical buffet that explores many ideas around love and death through a dizzying number of courses and flavours. Written by Kieron Barry (Numbers, Spy for Spy) and directed by Hope Wishart (A Microscopic Odyssey) this piece uses an array of approaches to tantalise the tastebuds. The cast of six uses performance, physical theatre, dance, song, puppetry and tableau vivant to convey some big ideas. The multiple references to literature and philosophy in this layered, post-modern piece make a good game. How many references can you spot? Double points for Shakespeare or Beckett. In some ways, the whole piece is performed in ironic, inverted commas. We start with a reenactment of a car journey in the dead of night and our cast of six become windscreen wipers, doors, and a passenger. Then, in a panoramic long shot, a body becomes a landscape, tiny torches show two cars heading towards each other over the curves of a woman’s body. There’s a terrible accident and a fatality. The doors and windscreen wipers transform into pallbearers as a body is carried away and lives are changed forever. It’s an audacious and impressive opening. Somewhere in the buffet of illusions and surreal scenes is a narrative thread about a donkey and a fish, asking questions about love, life and death. The shadow play and puppetry that represents them is charming and sweet but overwhelmed by everything else. There’s a lot going on around them; it’s no wonder the donkey and fish are having an existential crisis. Why are they here? At one hour forty straight with no interval, Stories for Boys demands a great deal of the audience. It's funny and clever but overloaded and in need of dramaturgical input. There is much to admire in this crafted, choreographed piece which represents a great deal of talent. The lighting design by Barnaby Booth is imaginatively and sensitively conceived and realised. Enza Kims’s set and costume design is cohesive and resourceful. The formality of the costume design by May Kelly - formal Nehru collared suits—juxtaposes with the absurd comic tone of the piece. Despite the headlining themes and its laudable, experimental approach, this is a buffet that feeds the intellect rather than the soul. Photography: Erika Sviderskyte Stories for Boys at Drayton Arms Theatre until 20 June BOX OFFICE CAST Adam Barlow - Player One etc. Lewis Blomfield - Player Three etc. Florence Dobson - Asso Agatha Elwes - Basso Samuel Ferrer - Player Two etc. Thelma Solea - Player Four etc. CREATIVE TEAM Written by Kieron Barry Directed by Hope Wishart Robert Taylor - Executive producer Enza Kim - Set Design Barnaby Booth - Lighting Design Helen Skiera - Sound Design May Kelley - Costume Design Arista Abbabatulla - Assistant Director Catalina Diaconescu - Stage Management Lisa Bain - Production Manager Sean Laing - Co-Production Manager Paushali Banik - Casting Maryann Wright - Press Salene Jang - Graphic Design Olga Tarnopolskaia - Programme Design Paul Major - Site Development Modge Tait - Producer Lily Alcock - Co-Producer Cassie Devlin - Co-Producer