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As everyone keeps reminding me ‘Christmas is a little different this year’, which seems to be the understatement of the century. No big family get togethers, no bustling Christmas markets, no work parties, and of course no live pantomimes or festive shows. Personally, one of my favourite yuletide traditions each year is picking which of the dozens of retellings of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol I plan to watch. Imagine my delight then when I was asked to review a new A Christmas Carol adjacent theatrical production, Alexander Knott’s play December, which has been created for audiences at home during these unprecedented times.

Rather than following the story of the miserly old Ebenezer Scrooge, in December we are instead invited into the world of his lowly clerk, Bob Cratchit, and taken on a dark journey through the icy and perilous streets of London. This London is a darker and harsher one than that which Scrooge experiences, with thugs on each corner waiting to pounce and poverty and hunger are every-day realities. Likewise, this portrayal of Cratchit is darker too – a man who is suffering and flawed. We see deeper, past the smiling, upbeat husband and father to the desperate, exhausted man having to fight tooth and nail every day just to survive and support his loved ones. The weight of his responsibility and the hardships of a harsh city have ground him down. It’s a much grittier and more honest portrayal of the inner mind of someone living hand to mouth and working to the bone each day.

Like Scrooge, Cratchit is visited by otherworldly spirits with a message and warning for him on this bitterly cold Christmas Eve. The downtrodden clerk, unsure if he can carry on living in such a hard world, is shown visions of the suffering of the future poor. It’s a Wonderful Life this is not - the spectres provide Cratchit a bleak glimpse at the decades to come with the war, sickness, and inequality they will continue to bring. It’s pretty grim. If you’re looking for something cheerful to brighten your festive season then this probably isn’t the play for you. But it’s not all doom and gloom, there’s a bittersweet hope to the piece, a kind of fierce encouragement that we must soldier on and not give up. We should lament the hardships wrought on the common people by the oppressive super rich, but we must not be broken by them.

We are given a chance to see Cratchit’s real resentment for his greedy employer, his words echoing through the ages and reflecting a growing resentment being felt today towards the callous wealthy elite hoarding more money than they could ever need whilst so many live in poverty. With the gap between the poor and rich wider than it’s been in recent history Cratchit’s frustrations resonate with audiences of today. The anger is infectious, feeling at times like a call to arms, a rallying cry that we must put a stop to this injustice.

The script, which is almost solid monologue for the first half of the play, is very Dickensian in tone, mood and style. Details from the book are woven naturally throughout, peppered in sparsely enough that it’s familiar whilst feeling like a very different story all its own.

The Dickensian dialogue is brought to life with all the more vibrancy by Ryan Hutton who plays Bob Cratchit. Acting to a camera is very different to acting for a live audience, but Hutton pulls it off effortlessly and his infectious theatrical energy draws you into the performance until you almost forget you’re in front of a screen and not in an auditorium. In December Cratchit is endearing and sympathetic, with much more depth of character than he’s afforded in the classic Dickensian tale. Hutton brings him to life in a way which is endlessly watchable. He also plays a handful of other minor characters within his monologues, which are very distinctive and well characterised, the changes to his speech and physicality bringing these additional players to life seamlessly. Praise, too, should be given to Freya Sharp who plays the spirits, as well as a collection of other characters Cratchit encounters. She tackles this selection of roles with great range, demonstrating an ability to delight, amuse, frighten, fluster, or tug at the heartstrings of the audience as required.

A lot of thought has clearly gone into the design of December as a theatrical piece for camera. December benefits from plenty of thoughtful and out of the box camera direction from Charles Flint. Filmed in and around Old Red Lion theatre, the action is not merely confined to the auditorium but spills out onto the street and even, at one point, into the pub. December still feels like a theatrical piece, but without the conventions dictated by a live audience this line becomes a little blurry.

My only criticism of December, is that a lot of time is dedicated to introducing Bob Cratchit and the world in which he inhabits, plunging deep into the dark well of his soul, which leaves little time for spirits to visit. As a result, the visions Cratchit is shown feel somewhat rushed through and the conclusion of the play seems tacked onto the end and just narrowly fails to quite stick the landing.

Nevertheless, December is a winter treat I highly recommend to anyone who has missed good theatre this season. Every element has been crafted with care and it’s a delight to see something of such a high quality being produced in these difficult times. A reflective, pensive and thoughtful piece, December may have changed the way I think about A Christmas Carol forever.

As well as being a fantastic production, December is raising money for a good cause, with all profits going to Hackney Winter Night Shelter, a charity which strives to put an end to rough sleeping during the coldest time of year. So, don’t be a Scrooge, follow the link below, buy your ticket for one of the best digital shows of the year, and help make life better for someone in need in the process!

DECEMBER
Written and Directed by: Alexander Knott
Directed for Camera by: Charles Flint
Company: Bag of Beard
Filmed at: Old Red Lion Theatre
Available online from 20th December – 5th January
Box Office: https://www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk/december1.html
@BagofBeard

Remember when we were sick of talking about the weather? When every encounter we had throughout our day - at our jobs, in shops, on public transport, walking the dog - would be some half hearted exchange about the temperature or current amounts of precipitation? I miss that. I miss talking about something other than this blasted virus, but here we are. What can we do? Just try to adapt and find new solutions to new problems, I guess. We carry on. And that’s exactly what theatre collective Degenerate Fox have done with their latest show Dirty 30 II: Electric Pay-Per-View.

I am delighted to be writing my first review since before lockdown, it's amazing to see that Degenerate Fox have really embraced the spirit of the phrase ‘The Show Must Go On’ and have risen to the challenge of producing some fantastic theatre during these unusual times. Rather than seeing the current restrictions on traditional live theatre performances as an obstacle, they’ve seen it as an opportunity to think about how to do theatre differently. The kind of theatrical innovations being made today could change the face of the performing arts forever and it's pretty exhilarating to be witnessing the beginnings of something completely new.

The Dirty 30 is a showcase of thirty short plays and performances created and performed by a cast of six who do their best to try to perform as many of these thirty pieces as possible in an hour. Before the show audiences are provided with a ‘menu’ of the different plays and at the beginning of the livestream are asked to comment the number of the piece they most want to see, the most popular are then selected to be performed first. Utilising the capabilities that online performances do have which traditional live performances don't, has worked really well here. When have you ever been to the theatre and been able to talk to other audience members, total strangers no less, right throughout the performance? It’s a new kind of audience participation and gives the performers a totally unique line of direct communication with those watching them.

With a timer counting down the hour time limit from the moment the first play starts, and with the chance to ‘play along’ with some of the performances, there’s the air of a gameshow about The Dirty 30 II. There’s a varied buffet of theatre and performance art on offer, some emotionally moving and powerful, others funny and uplifting, with a range of themes from the political to the plain bizarre. This wouldn’t work without the dedication and enthusiasm of every member of the cast, whose energy and excitement are infectious and make you want to keep watching. There’s one core theme which underpins every item on the Dirty 30 II menu and that’s togetherness. There’s a real sense of love, community, and solidarity in this show and each of the offerings tap into something poignant, something current and relatable in a world which seems so unfamiliar right now.

Anyone who has ever taken part in any kind of drama class will be familiar with one thing all drama teachers have said at some point or other - use the space - Degenerate Fox have really taken that onboard here and haven’t let the standards slip just because their space happens to be online, they’ve clearly put careful thought into what the audience will be seeing and how that can be used in a number of ways to different effect. One particularly good example of this is in one of the short plays ‘Black Mirror on a Budget’, which presents a completely black screen with the show timer in one corner and a voiceover asking questions about the person you see, which happens to be yourself mirrored in the reflection of the screen of your device. The voice concludes ‘really makes you think, doesn’t it?’ and is a well executed tongue-in-cheek parody of Charlie Brooker’s hit TV series ‘Black Mirror’. This piece couldn’t have worked in a theatre.

Something we can learn from Degenerate Fox is how effective and entertaining online shows can be. Similar online theatre shows are tentatively being trialled currently and a lot are just not quite working, so what makes The Dirty 30 II work so well in comparison? Well it’s really as simple as the preparation. The company has plans in place to handle any problems which might arise due to the unconventional format of the show, such as technical difficulties. This meant that when I was watching and there was a connection hitch part way through the show there was no big panic, the rest of the cast knew what to do to keep the audience entertained and the situation was dealt with seamlessly. The show itself is rehearsed and the cast as enthusiastic to be performing to a webcam as they would be performing to a packed auditorium. Props and visual aids are close to hand and transitions are slick.

Those producing shows currently and getting them in front of audiences in a number of new, interesting and modern ways are pioneers, and I think that’s something positive and exciting to hold onto in these hard times. This could mean a shift in the accessibility of theatre - online performances, live streams, and recorded shows open the door to audiences without limits, and theatre fans from all over the world will have unprecedented access to fringe and experimental performances. No more will theatre companies be limited in how many people see their work by the size of the theatre they can afford. I watched The Dirty 30 II in my pyjamas with my dog on my lap and a cup of tea on the coffee table as I munched sweets from a tub of Celebrations, and you know what? I didn’t have to feel guilty about the wrappers crinkling! Plus, no queue for the ladies loo! The cast members even offered a hangout session via Zoom after the show, which is almost like having a pint with the company after a pub theatre show, right?

The Dirty 30 II is a smashing success and a masterclass in how to work with what you’ve got to create something wonderful. Cast member Laura Killeen summed up nicely the general feeling of being a part of this new kind of theatre when the countdown ended and she exclaimed “We did something! We did it!”. Theatre makers everywhere are trying to find their way in this new normal and we shared Degenerate Fox’s feelings of triumph in that moment when we all realised that they, at least, have found it.

Upcoming Dates and Tickets https://www.designmynight.com/london/whats-on/theatre/the-dirty-30-ii-electric-pay-per-view

You can support Degenerate Fox through Patreon at: https://www.patreon.com/degeneratefoxuk?fbclid=IwAR1kBDopiJ8X39rs6i5Ne5TwS5Sq-PkhRNu2oJLO5DBnbaT0dGqLLjD_Lrc

THE DIRTY 30 II: ELECTRIC PAY-PER-VIEW
Degenerate Fox
@DegenerateFoxUK | @DegenerateFoxUK | www.degeneratefox.co.uk
Created and Performed by: Laura Killeen, Gabrielle Macpherson, Sergio Maggiolo, Benjamin Ridge, Graham Self, and Jack Wakely

I love a good untold story. As human beings one of the things most important to us is knowing that we matter. What is our purpose? Where is our meaning? Our lives are but a dot in the universe, one tap of a brush on a pointillist painting which spans a million miles. We exist for a brief sneeze in time and, beyond that, well….? Well, we have memory. Legacy. Which is why story telling is crucial to our survival as a civilised race of creatures. History, global or personal, acts as both a blueprint and a cautionary tale. Untold stories bring new lessons, but most miraculously they bring human souls back from the dead, they give voice to unsung heroes, and where better can those voices echo throughout a room of those eager to hear them than in a theatre?

Canary is a play which gives a stage to the thousands of forgotten women who worked in terrible conditions and risked their lives making munitions during the First World War, munitions which were crucial to the success of the Allies victory against enemy forces. They were called the Munitionettes, and if you’ve never heard of them before don’t worry, not many have. By far the most dangerous stage of the munitions making process was the handling of the TNT and cordite, and the women brave enough to take on this perilous job were known as The Canary Girls, skin tinged yellow by the toxic chemicals they worked with every day. Focusing on the lives of three such women Canary sheds a light on what life was like both inside the factory and in general for these particular Munitionettes.

Agnes, Betty, and Anne are the heroes of this tale, Agnes is a bold and ballsy mother of five, young Betty is a loveable though somewhat ditzy and naïve girl with a passion for football, and Anne is rich, well-meaning, and looking for a useful way to spend her time while her husband is away at war. Between them they make a fantastic though somewhat unlikely team. Canary opens with a projection of a short wartime style documentary about the Munitionettes which sets the scene and throws us straight into wartime Britain, and once the projection is finished the voiceover continues, introducing us to our three heroines and the actual process of the making of the bombs. It’s a clever device and relieves the characters of any need to provide exposition, meaning we get to dive right into their personal stories, it also frees them up to give some incredibly well put together physical theatre performances which persist throughout the rest of the play.

Every element of this show is well thought out, well constructed, and created with love and care. Katie Tranter, Robyn Hambrook, and Alys North, who play Agnes, Anne, and Betty respectively, give it their absolute all and provide performances which are bold, dynamic, and really pack a punch. There’s a strong clowning element, with well timed and tight comedic delivery and slapstick elements throughout - these juxtapose wonderfully with the serious and tragic subject matter. The characters are fiery, believable and immensely likable, and the relationships between them feel genuine. There’s a delightful chaotic energy to this piece, it’s bold, heartfelt, daring and powerful.

The sound and lighting design of Canary work in perfect harmony with the physical and emotional performances of the actors to create a truly incredible piece of theatre in its own right. Coupled with the intention behind the piece, breathing life into a story the telling of which is long overdue, Canary is an absolute dynamite production. It has a real ‘girl power’ vibe and is poignant and, in many ways, still very relevant today. Not only is it gripping – I was on the edge of my seat from start to finish – but it’s also very moving. The script is full of humour and heartache, but most of all there’s an incredible sense of camaraderie which it’s impossible not to find uplifting. Canary is a fascinating insight into something I only had a very vague awareness of before and I truly believe that those involved with this production have created something which has really done our girls proud. Canary is an anarchic feminist triumph.

So here they are, the defiant voices of a forgotten home front battalion, and boy can these canaries sing!

CANARY

Created by: Fun in the Oven Theatre
Performed by: Robyn Hambrook, Alys North and Katie Tranter
Directed by: Andrea Jimenez and Noemi Fernandez

@Fun_InThe_Oven

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Tennessee Williams is arguably one of the greatest playwrights in the last century, and certainly one of the most influential. His style is unmistakable, his stories of domestic struggles set in the American South told with a stark honesty and a lyrical turn of phrase are a successful formula for some of the best plays of the past hundred years. Classic tales like A Streetcar Named Desire and Cat On a Hot Tin Roof are iconic, and Tennessee Williams’ penchant for giving stories to previously unheard voices with gritty realism makes him one of the founding fathers of modern theatre.

The Glass Imaginary is a completely improvised full length play in the style of Tennessee Williams. The company began by asking the audience to name an object that their grandparent owned as a prompt, the evening I was watching the object picked was a gramophone, and from there an incredible tale of doubt, financial hardship, and unrequited love was woven.

This show could not have worked even nearly as well without the entire cast having an incredibly insightful understanding of the character relations, physicality, and speech patterns found traditionally in Tennessee Williams’ work. The improv is as smooth and silky as the rich Southern drawls it’s performed with. It’s bold, it’s fearless, and it’s unwavering.

The relationships between the characters are deep, meaningful, and created seamlessly with multi-layered complexity. The way these actors keep up with the many plots, places and characters is astounding, referencing earlier events and even earlier dialogue after significant time has passed. They set one another up and work collaboratively as a company without appearing obvious or forced, it’s a marvel to witness.

Like any Tennessee Williams play The Glass Imaginary is an emotional rollercoaster representing the real highs and lows of domestic drama, sometimes hurtling along with quick, witty humour, and at other times the plot twisting unexpectedly and travelling through moments of deep, heartfelt connection which stirs an ache in the very depths of the human soul. It’s enough to remind anyone of why the work of Tennessee Williams is so darned irresistible.

Each of the classic Tennessee Williams character types are present, they at least were in the show I saw – the confident everyman, the closeted homosexual, the naïve girl destined to fall from grace, the good Christian, the devoted but yearning wife/mother, and the strong smart-talking woman.

The simple adjustment of the positioning of furniture and a variation in placement of cushions and blankets effectively transports the audience to different settings. The staging is interesting and yet simple, using no set or props other than a sofa, a desk, two chairs, a coffee table, a coat rack and two bibles to perfectly set each scene regardless of location.

The two act play is faultlessly paced, a remarkable feat in and of itself. There are barely any false starts, stutters, or overlaps, and those that could be found are few, far between and, most importantly, instantly recovered from.

The Glass Imaginary perfectly captures the formulaic concoction which makes Tennessee Williams’ work so distinctive and so universally well loved. The actors all take it in turns to set the next scene and the rest of the company follow up by building wonderfully deep, multi-dimensional characters with complex interweaving stories and a coherent overarching narrative. Plots twists which can turn on a dime decide the fates of these sympathetic new born characters, who roll out life lessons in profound sounding quips and present a play which is amusing, entertaining, but also sad, engaging and raw.

I never knew that improv could be this genuinely compelling.

THE GLASS IMAGINARY: An Improvised Play
The Improvised Play Company
The Drayton Arms Theatre 4th - 8th February 2020
@Glass_Imaginary
Produced by Presence Theatre Collective

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Whether you’re a super fan or not it’s hard to have lived a life untouched by classic Disney movies, they’ve been a huge part of millions of people’s childhoods. Since the release of its first animated feature length fairy tale Snow White in 1938 Disney has been delighting children and adults alike with its magic. Whether it’s in the retelling of well-known stories like Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella, or modern hits such as Frozen, the film giant has unrivalled success in children’s entertainment, thanks in no small part to its very distinctive way of storytelling. Many children, like myself, grew up watching countless Disney films and have been influenced by their lessons in kindness, friendship, generosity, and courage. But when the films of one company are so influential in so many young people’s lives what happens when that company chooses to only tell one kind of story?

Happily Ever Poofter is a one man parody musical show which explores society’s absolute refusal to acknowledge same sex romance in children’s media, targeting one dominant presence in that area in particular… and I think we all know the main culprit. The story follows Prince Henry of The Southern Vales, the only gay in the kingdom, and his pursuit of love and acceptance. He’s seen all the other princes marry their princesses and he wants a happily ever after of his own, only he’s becoming increasingly sure that there’s no prince waiting for him and that perhaps he needs to leave the kingdom altogether to find what he seeks. Assisted by his fairy godfather, Prince Henry finds himself in the twenty-first century and fully immerses himself in the modern gay scene, learning all about the wonders, excitement, perils, and pitfalls of being a gay man. Will his adventure lead him to true love? Or will his differences damn him to an eternity of solitude and misery?

Told in a series of songs parodying well known Disney classics, this energetic one man cabaret includes numbers such as ‘I’ve Just Come Out to The King’ and ‘One Day My Prince Will Cum’. It’s side-splittingly funny and I left the theatre with an aching jaw from grinning almost non-stop throughout. Cheeky, packed with innuendo, and relentlessly good fun Happily Ever Poofter has the feel of a pantomime, a drag show, and stand-up all rolled into one. But despite having the audience in stitches for most of the duration, it also doesn’t shy away from some of the serious issues affecting the gay community such as drug abuse and STDs/STIs. Further to that we see with real clarity the way that an absence of queer stories can affect queer people, particularly children. Where are our happily ever afters?

A year or so ago the topic began to circulate throughout social media that it would be wonderful if Frozen’s Elsa could get a girlfriend… The backlash was so telling of much of society’s attitudes to same sex couples – tolerated in theory, but ‘not in front of the children’. The idea that a man and woman kissing in children’s stories is fine, but two people of the same sex kissing is ‘inappropriate’ is inherently homophobic and still the prevalent attitude even in the twenty first century. Happily Ever Poofter highlights and condemns this attitude with defiance, strength and heart. After all, some children are gay… get over it!

High praise goes to Rich Watkins, the actor and creator of this fantastic show who brings fabulous energy and unwavering commitment throughout. His comedic timing and improv skills are faultless and the success of this show is in no small part down to the fact that he’s working his patent knee-high heels off! He multi-roles as various other characters as well as Prince Henry, and there’s a heavy audience participation element throughout with which he takes no prisoners.

Happily Ever Poofter has everything – singing, dancing, audience participation, puppetry, comedy, tragedy, sex, drugs and more! But the best thing about it? Its inspiring message of LGBTQ solidarity, we’re here, we’re queer, and if we have to write our own stories to be ‘part of your world’ then that’s exactly what we’re going to do.

HAPPILY EVER POOFTER
Created by: Rich Watkins
Directed by: Denholm Spurr
Choreographed by: Simone Murphy
King’s Head Theatre,
21st January - 8 February

@happilyeverpoofter

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The Importance of Being Earnest
Company: Pan Productions
Directed by: Aylin Bozok
Produced by: Zeynep Dlkiran

Part of what makes The Importance of Being Earnest an absolute classic play is its timelessness. The story follows two friends, Ernest and Algernon, who are both, in some way, leading double lives. When those double lives entangle and their secrets threaten to destroy any chance of happiness they have with the women of their dreams, Gwendoline and Cecily, the pressure is on for these two bachelors to decide exactly who they intend to be.

The Importance is a story about love, yes, but also about identity, both the identity of the self and the identities imposed upon us by others. It’s about the tight-rope line we all walk between where we’ve come from and who we are. How fitting, then, that this particular production of Oscar Wilde’s well loved farce is produced by a cast and crew of creatives made up entirely by immigrants. French, Canadian, Finnish, Turkish, and Greek are just a handful of the nationalities of those involved. It’s a fantastic and fresh angle for, arguably, the most popular play of Wilde’s – after all, we mustn’t forget that the controversial Irish playwright was an immigrant himself. The unique styles brought to the table by this company have breathed fresh life into a play which has been put on so many times it’s a wonder there’s anything new to bring to it.

This production of The Importance of Being Earnest is more like an absinthe fuelled fever dream. It’s a highly stylised and non-naturalistic take with a distinctly offbeat tone and an alluring black and white colour palette. Whether you like what Pan Productions (the theatrical company behind the show) has done with the play or not, it’s impossible to argue against the fact that aesthetically it’s very pleasing. Imagine, if you will, a kind of gothic bohemia - black leather, a maid in dark green velvet, and a Cecily who’s sporting an outfit not dissimilar to what Winona Ryder is wearing in Beetlejuice.

If you go into this production of The Importance of Being Earnest expecting a quaint traditionally British comedy performed by delicate doe-eyed ladies and charmingly befuddled highly starched gentlemen then I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. This is a far cry from Rupert Everett and Colin Firth leaning on ornate banisters whilst chewing the scenery and is more akin to a viewing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. And you know what? It works. It’s a delightful take with an identity all its own, which seems fitting considering the themes of the play. There is a strong and distinct directorial vision throughout, choreographed with a braveness and boldness which, for the vast majority of the play, really pays off.

The cast is incredibly strong, and considering that English is not the first language of many of the cast they have no problem getting their teeth around Wilde’s wordy dialogue with the impeccable timing of delivery which the success of this show depends upon. Pinar Öğün and Glykeria Dimou, who play Gwendoline and Cecily respectively, are a particular delight, the strength of their characters leaving the audience in no doubt as to who is really running the show. Nea Cornér plays Lane and Merriman, two servants in the original text, but transformed in this production into a much more significant role of maid come storyteller come creator. She often physically moves characters into place and even enacts their internal feelings whilst they disguise their true emotions for propriety’s sake. There’s something wonderfully unnerving about her, she carries much of the quirk of this production and is used as an all purpose tool for a lot of the more stylistic directorial decisions.

There are times where style does seem to overshadow purpose in this production, a few of the false starts and extra flavour repeated several times too often, and whilst I adored all of the little asides and oddities I’d be inclined to say that sometimes less is more and using the same devices more than once feels stressed at best and lazy at worst.

That said, Pan Productions' The Importance of Being Earnest is a triumph of subversive and stylish defiance with a flare and poignant absurdity which Oscar himself would no doubt have adored.

The Importance of Being Earnest ~ [Tower Theatre] ~ Review

★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Love. Relationships. Topics that have been done to death over and over – inescapable in film, music, television, and, of course, theatre for as long as anyone can remember. I understand why, I know they’re subjects which are universal and ever present in all societies, something everyone has experienced, but with such an oversaturation of love and relationship stories I usually find it difficult to care about them anymore - I’ve consumed too many and they’ve somewhat lost all taste. So for a play about just those themes to not only reach me, but to touch me in such a profound and deep way as I’m Begging You to Hurt Me did, you can bet that this play is something very special.

I attended a rehearsed reading of I’m Begging You to Hurt Me at The Drayton Arms Theatre and left stunned by what I’d seen. The play is a two hander which explores the tumultuous romantic relationship between Heather and James, two young people who love and depend on one another but who both have their own baggage which impacts upon the strength of their partnership with often disastrous consequences. Their story is told out of sequence and through snatches of moments from their relationship, spanning years of ups and downs, break-ups and re-connections, traumas, tragedies, and moments of joy. Some scenes are five words long, others five minutes.

The relationship between Heather and James is an instantly recognisable one, we all know a couple like them, two people who can’t live with each other but can’t live without each other, creating an impossible situation destined for tragedy. For anyone who has been in such a relationship themselves then I’m Begging You to Hurt Me is borderline masochistic in how relatable and real their story feels. It’s a story presented in such a naturalistic and honest way that it's physically heart breaking, and I’m not ashamed to say that there were several moments in which I cried.

The chemistry between Nicole Zweiback and Ben Ayers who play Heather and James is faultless, it has to be to convey the damage that the power of a wrecking ball like raw love can cause, whilst also simultaneously creating so much warmth, tenderness and humour that you completely understand why these two people love one another so utterly. It’s clear that both actors have a deep understanding of these characters and how outside influences such as family, mental health, bereavement, and drugs, can create such dramatic changes in the tides of human connection. The emotional gymnastics required to switch instantly between the moods and emotions of the vastly different stages of this relationship so believably and seamlessly are astounding.

The details of Heather and James’s personal lives, histories, and the narrative of their relationship to one another are revealed in drips, leaving the audience to rearrange and slot together the pieces into the right order, making for some gripping dramatic revelations and leaving you on the edge of your seat the entire time.

The very best thing about I’m Begging You to Hurt Me is the writing, Nicole Zweiback’s script is incredibly tight and presents this narrative with thought, humanity, and an naturalistic intimacy which is so difficult to get right, but which she has absolutely nailed. It’s sweet, it’s tender, it’s awkward, and it’s also absolutely earth shattering.
“I’m fucking tethered to you.”
Argh! My heart! Just… leave me here to cry to death.

As this was a rehearsed reading I’m very excited to see where it goes next and how it will look fully staged.

I’m Begging You to Hurt Me is the story of what happens when two broken people depend on one another and how impossible it can be to untangle those dependencies, even when you’re doing each other more harm than good. When the one who catches you is no longer there, how do you survive next time you fall again?

Definitely one to watch.

I'm Begging You to Hurt Me ~ [The Drayton Arms Theatre] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ★

What I love about theatre is that very occasionally you’ll happen upon a show which is so totally, absolutely, barking mad bonkers and bizarre that there’s no way it should work, but it does. Captain Breadbeard’s Bready Brilliant Comedy Cookbook is one such show. It’s difficult to describe exactly what Captain Breadbeard is whilst doing it justice, but indulge me while I try: Captain Breadbeard’s Bready Brilliant Comedy Cookbook is an hour long show packed full of delightfully groan-worthy bread based puns and sketches, it’s not only suitable but also enjoyable for all ages, and offers some pure silly escapism, which can be really undervalued particularly in theatre these days.

Captain Breadbeard, the sailor with bread for a beard, and his colleague Davy Scones take us through a witty range of bread based skits, games, songs and sketches, which include plenty of audience participation and are guaranteed to leave even the most pun hating cynic chuckling. I’m generally a fan of any show which gives me food upon arrival, and it’s difficult not to enjoy yourself watching some first rate out of the box clowning with a tummy full of gingerbread. I’ll admit that usually I’m not a big fan of puns and visual gags, and as the show opened with Captain Breadbeard and Davy Scones playing various types of bread as different instruments and singing a bread themed song I was wondering what exactly I was about to put myself through, but it didn’t take long for me to get sucked into the charming dough based world of Captain Breadbeard and I was hooked right through to the smashing poppadum based finale! This show will batter you over the head with a baguette until you can’t help but get sucked into its odd bready universe.

It’s a fast paced show with a lot of variety, with gags and jokes which will appeal to all ages. At times it feels like the props round of an episode of Whose Line is it Anyway where all the props are bread items, and at other times it does something which would fly right over most kids heads, like its homage to Samuel Beckett with the skit ‘Waiting for Toasto’. There are celebrity and pop culture references of all kinds, with song parodies throughout, and a particularly amusing set of Star Wars gags.

Dave Watt and Nick Surridge, who play Captain Breadbeard and Davy Scones respectively, are so engaging and absolutely give their all in this joyful sketch show. Their physicality, their engagement with the audience, and their commitment to fun and silliness make this show what it is, and I can’t imagine Captain Breadbeard working half as well without the dedication to pure entertainment they so clearly value here. It feels very much like a kid’s show made for adults, and if you thought there couldn’t possibly be enough bread based puns to fill a non-stop hour then you are sorely mistaken, my friend. It feels a little like the audience participation sidekick characters from a pantomime got loose and went AWOL, then decided to create their own show.

A wonderfully funny and playful hour of entertainment that will make you laugh your socks off all the time you’re prepared to sit back and just roll with it.
(Pardon the pun.)

Captain Breadbeard's Bready Brilliant Comedy Cookbook ~ [The Camden People's Theatre] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Set in Wales in the mid 80s, A Prayer for Wings is the story of a mother and daughter dealing with

the devastating reality of living with incurable disease. Mam has multiple sclerosis (MS), the effects

of which have left her bed ridden and unable to take care of herself. She’s been suffering from this

disease for years, her condition growing increasingly worse with time, and with no family or friends

around to help out it has fallen to her daughter, Rita, to be her full time carer. Rita is full of life but

unable to live, shackled by her responsibilities to her vulnerable mother whose sickness has made

her embittered and demanding. Tensions between the two women are high and growing more

strained with each passing day – we arrive when they are very nearly at breaking point and there’s a

sense that soon, somehow, in some way, something has to give.

The oppressive atmosphere is palpable the moment you walk into the theatre, both Mam and Rita

already on stage and laying lifeless in their beds. It feels like walking into a morgue. The house is old

fashioned, rundown, with shabby 70s decor. Mam’s room has a crucifix and a large portrait of Christ

hanging above the bed, whilst Rita sleeps on a fold out cot with her few meagre belongings

scattered about. The light is dim, the sounds of the sea and seagulls can be heard in the distance. It’s

abundantly clear that we aren’t here for a party.

But despite the depressing subject of the play it’s not all doom and gloom, in fact it’s actually rather

enjoyable. The story unfolds before us, the action plays out and both Mam and Rita speak to us

directly, breaking the fourth wall and sharing with us their innermost thoughts and feelings, which

they’re unable to communicate to each other. Their bickering is often amusing and their

monologuing quippy and full of wit.

Rita dreams of meeting a man who will whisk her away to a better life, someone who she can look

after because she wants to and not because she has to. She fantasises about simple pleasures –

going to the pictures and walking through a revolving door for the first time. But no such saviour

exists, and if he does she never goes out anywhere to get the opportunity to meet him. Instead she

has to content herself with the leering young men who hang around the street corner and pay her ‘a

couple of quid’ in exchange for sexual favours. Meanwhile Mam’s life seems to revolve around meal

times and what she's going to have for her lunch. The situation is desperate, the crumbling old

church they live in a desolate place, a prison isolated from the world of the living. We never leave

their home, trapped along with them, repeating the patterns of their miserable, mundane daily

routines over and over with each new day - it’s oppressive, claustrophobic, and maddening.

A Prayer for Wings achieves what seems to be the impossible and creates a static, stagnant play

environment filled with repetition and mundane drudgery that at not one single point feels at all

boring. It’s a gripping play from start to end, and this is in equal parts thanks to a fantastic script,

pristine direction, and truly outstanding performances from all three actors involved. Multi-rolling as

three different young men whom Rita brings home, Luke Rhodri manages to create such distinct

characters that I genuinely would have struggled to believe that they weren’t three separate actors

if I hadn’t had the programme on my lap. Llinos Daniel plays Mam, she’s cantankerous, prudish,

demanding, and self-absorbed, but she’s also very ill and we catch glimpses of the woman she was,

the woman she might still have been had she not been beaten down by her terrible illness, and

despite everything we sympathise with her. There’s such careful consideration and nuance brought

to this role that even in her nasty moments it’s very difficult to hate Mam. An equally strong

performance is given by Alis Wyn Davies in the role of Rita, somehow both charming and pitiful,

often at the same time. At multiple points throughout the play it was an effort not to stand up, wrap

her up in my arms, and run far away with her to give her a chance at some happiness, poor soul. If

her portrayal of Rita is anything to go by then Davies has big things in her future, its rare to see such

a vast range of different emotions played out so impeccably and with such perfect comedic and

tragic timing.

Important, moving, and technically faultless, Sean Mathias’s A Prayer for Wings is an absolute must

see. Do not miss it.

A Prayer for Wings ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ★

In the twenty first century is there still really such a thing as a spinster? Or in this modern age, where we’ve collectively decided that a woman’s place is slightly more than just marrying and popping out babies, is it an outdated concept founded in archaic patriarchal ideals? Well no prizes for guessing my opinion on the topic. Then why, still, do we as women constantly determine our worth based on our relationship status? Why are we so fixated on finding our other half? Ha, ‘Other half’, what a horrible expression. As though we aren’t a whole person until we’ve found someone who tolerates us enough to marry us! Though it’s difficult not to buy into the idea that we’re not complete without someone to fall asleep next to each night, not when the usual response to the simple statement ‘I’m single’ is usually some variation of ‘aw, don’t worry, you’ll find someone’ – because in our society we just can’t fathom that anyone could be happy on their own. The pursuit of this happiness is at the very heart of what Emilia Stawicki’s one woman show THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT is all about. It’s a look at the social pressure women feel to find ‘the one’ and unpacks one woman’s answers to the deceptively complex question ‘so, why do you think you’re still single?’

Meet Emilia, she’s bright, outgoing, funny, and single. She was educated at an all girl’s Catholic school where her education regarding love and sex was almost non-existent, any mention of the topic delivered coated in a nice thick layer of fear, guilt, and shame. She tells us what her adolescence was like, how each experience of love and lust shaped the person she is today and can perhaps go some way to explaining her perpetual single status. She tells us about living in Salt Lake City, Utah, with its large Mormon population, how being among that community shaped the way she saw herself and how others saw her. The thing she keeps coming back to is the Madonna/Whore dichotomy, the two groups society places women into – either we’re nurturing, sweet, virtuous, and mothering, or we’re promiscuous, bold, loud, and exciting. Which are you? Bit of both? Odd... it’s almost as though these attributes are not mutually exclusive and women are complex beings unable to be pigeon-holed into one of two lists. Not that it stops people trying, as Emilia has experienced and highlighted so well in her one woman show. My personal favourite anecdote features a date during which the man she was seeing said he wasn’t interested in a second date because Emilia is ‘the kind of girl guys marry but not the kind of girl guys date’. Yep.

Presented like a stand-up routine THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT is an hour of Emilia Stawicki baring her heart to us armed with nothing but a board, a marker, and some well placed sound tech. For a show that makes you want to immediately pack your bags and move to an island where there are no men or patriarchal structures it’s actually incredibly funny, I promise. Emilia’s routine has buckets of girl-power presented with comical and neurotic energy. Her comedic timing is impeccable, her physicality infinitely watchable. She illustrates her points with amusing diagrams and soundbites, even pulling the audience into the conversations and inviting us to respond. She’s relatable, in fact she’s like the personification of that little voice in our heads that freaks out every time we think about the perils and pitfalls of the dating world. There are a lot of single women in London who could benefit from sitting down and watching THANK YOU AND GOODNIGHT, it’s a comforting sort of feeling knowing that we aren’t really alone.

Parts of the show reminded me a little of Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag, with elements of comediennes like Hannah Gadsby and Rebel Wilson. The more serious and hurtful a topic or anecdote is, the sillier and more over the top Emilia’s performance becomes. A thicker layer of make-up to cover the deeper emotional scars. There aren’t many things more powerful than being hit with something dark and serious whilst you’re mid-way through a proper belly laugh, the emotional whiplash making the points being made that much more impactful.

Thank You and Goodnight is a celebration of womanhood, both passionate and authentic, a tale of feminist self-discovery that will make you think very carefully about the next date you go on.

Thank You and Goodnight ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★☆

Granny Grotbag Says Goodbye, it sounds like the title of a David Walliams children’s book, doesn’t it? But it’s not, it’s the stand-out play written by and starring Joshua Welch. We join Granny Grotbag in her cosy little Sheffield home where she invites us in with a warm welcome and offers us a cup of tea. She chatters happily to the crowd as we line up to for a brew, then once everyone is back in their seats, and comfortable, it begins.

So, what can you expect from an hour spent with Granny Grotbag? Well, firstly, she swears like a sailor who just stubbed a toe, she’s outrageous, she’s hilarious, she’s full of absolute classic one liners, and has she got some stories to tell you! Granny Grotbag regales us with tales from her youth, back in her day (though she hates that expression) as the ‘Wild Cat of Sheffield’. We learn all about the night she met her husband, then the night she almost left her husband. We find out all about her children, now living their own lives with their own families, and we discover that perhaps not everything is as tickety-boo as she’d have us believe. You see Granny’s husband has recently passed and she’s at a bit of a loose end, which is maybe why she’s so eager to put on a good performance for us... so we might stick around.

Joshua Welch has created a character in Granny Grotbag who is impossible to dislike – she’s cheeky and foul-mouth, bold as brass, and with a wit so sharp it could cut glass. She reminds me of my nan, which is a statement I’m sure most of the audience members seeing this play would echo, and it’s impossible not to fall at least a little in love with her. She’s utterly captivating, a natural born storyteller, full of life and light and fun, which is what makes her story so sad. Granny Grotbag has fallen victim to the one tragedy which befalls us all in the end – the passing of time. As well as amusing anecdotes Granny tells about what it’s like to get old, the aches and pains, feeling left behind, and worst of all: the isolation. The urn holding her husband’s ashes, which she talks to regularly throughout the play, is a constant reminder that while we’re in tears with laughter at her hilarious antics, Granny has much sadder things to cry about.

This is a powerful and poignant play about growing old and our society’s mistreatment of the elderly. It’s a wake-up call, a raucously funny hour which subtly drip feeds its message to us unseen until the very end of the play when there’s an odd tight knot in my stomach. Guilt? When was the last time I visited my nan? That said, nothing about this play feels preachy, the themes aren’t shoved down the audience’s throats, it’s plain good fun first and foremost, so the one or two climactic moments where the tone does become serious and sad are made all the more powerful for it. The thought of this vibrant, energetic, funny lady left alone in her little living room with no company but her memories is heart breaking.

Welch’s script and performance are just outstanding, the style bringing to mind Paul O’Grady’s Lily Savage. It’s tricky to pull off a one man show this engaging, but Welch’s bold, fearless acting and side-splitting script is a demonstration of characterisation at its very best. He even uses the audience to tell his story, Granny Grotbag invite several audience members to sit with her on stage with a brew and a biscuit for a bit of extra company. High praise for Granny Grotbag Says Goodbye, if you get the chance to see it don’t miss it!

Granny Grotbag Says Goodbye ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Did you know that according to national statistics an estimated 2 million adults experienced domestic abuse in the UK last year alone? It’s a topic usually kept behind closed doors, out of sight out of mind, and nobody really seems to want to talk about it. Even in the twenty-first century, when we’re supposed to be more open to having difficult discussions about unsavoury topics, the ever prevalent subject of domestic abuse seems taboo, and the stigma and stereotyping surrounding this issue still rife. The main problem is in the name, these problems are domestic, and as a society we like to keep our private lives to ourselves, it seems bad manners to air our dirty laundry in front of others. This is perfect for abusers, who thrive on isolating their victims and do whatever they can to carefully remove friends, family, and all potential channels of support from those they’re abusing. Divide and conquer. Which means that last year the majority of those 2 million domestic abuse survivors were suffering alone and in silence. Plays like Patricia Gets Ready (for a Date With the Man That Used to Hit Her) can do so much to spread awareness of issues like this and are an important way of recalibrating the way people think about domestic abuse and those affected by it.

Patricia Gets Read (for a Date With the Man That Used to Hit Her) is a one woman show written by Martha Watson Allpress, directed by Kaleya Baxe, and starring Angelina Chudi. It focuses on one day in the life of a young woman named Patricia as she prepares for an evening out with her abusive ex boyfriend. She recounts the story of their relationship, from the day they met to the day she finally left him, and we experience the relationship through her eyes as we hear her inner most thoughts and feelings surrounding the turbulent affair. It’s a peek behind the curtain, an invitation to be a fly on the wall and try to understand the experience from someone who has lived it. It’s like spending the evening with a friend whilst they get some big feelings off their chest, but without the expectation to help so we have the opportunity to truly listen.

When I was a kid I remember watching one particular scene in an episode of Eastenders which has stuck with me for life for no other reason than how hugely powerful it was. The character Little Mo had been revisited by her ex husband, Trevor, who had abused her both mentally and physically for years before she finally left him. In this scene he’d tried to force his way back into her life but something in her snapped and she found the strength she’d never believed she had to stand up to him when he raised his fist to her. “Go on then, hit me!” she’d said, “I’ll hit you right back, and it may not be much of a fight but I’ll be one hell of a runner-up!” And even at such a young age I knew instinctively how much that would take, to look your bully in the eye and tell them ‘no more’, tell them ‘I’m worth more than this’. Watching Patricia Gets Ready brought back those feelings, that sense of pride and admiration that despite being dragged to hell and back by someone claiming to love her this woman somehow still dredged up the strength to hold her head high and stand defiant.

Patricia is a fantastic protagonist, both inspiring and flawed, complex and relatable. She’s not the stereotypical domestic abuse ‘victim’, no tiny frail middle-aged white woman trembling over an ironing board or apologising profusely whilst huddled over a kitchen stove. Patricia is real, Patricia is relatable, and Patricia is funny. Her story could be anyone’s, she’s a strong woman who responded to situations she finds herself in in the way myself or any of my friends would. She meets a hot guy in a bar, he’s charming, he likes her, she gets together with him, and it’s not until it’s too late that she realises she’s in trouble. The second time he hit her hurt the worst, she tells us, because the second time he hit her was the first time she realised this wasn’t a one time thing.

But it isn’t only the abusive relationship itself that Patricia tells us about, it’s the way it effects every aspect of a person’s life in so many subtle ways, it’s the way people react when they hear, it’s the questions they ask and the comments they make. “Why did you stay with him so long? Why didn’t you just leave?” in that accusing ‘I would have done better’ way. She reminds us that it isn’t that simple, not when strong emotions like fear, doubt, and love mix together to make a heady concoction of dependence. The script is fantastic, it’s witty, it’s aware, it’s deep, and it deals with a hard subject matter in a real and often humorous way without trivialising it.

There are one or two parts of the play in which we hear Patricia’s side of a two person conversation, we hear her responses to dialogue with her ex boyfriend and her mother, and these are the only moments of the script which don’t work as well. The break from Patricia’s monologue takes us away from unpacking Patricia’s thoughts and almost seems to intrude on the intimate moment we as the audience are sharing with her.

Patricia is played flawlessly by Angelina Chudi – she’s instantly likeable and very relatable, and whilst she opens up and spills her innermost thoughts and feelings it’s difficult not to want to get up and join her on stage, take her hand, help her with her makeup, show her you’re really there for her. She wears her heart on her sleeve and plasters over all the broken bits with bandages of humour, and in those moments, when her doubt and fear get the better of her, it’s all the more heart-wrenching because of it. Most of all Patricia is feisty, she’s a fighter who has battled her way through the front lines of bad relationships and will not be dragged back to that place of torment, she’s a survivor and she will survive.

Patricia Gets Ready (for a Date With the Man Who Used to Hit Her) ~ [The White Bear] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

It’s impossible to ignore anymore, the continuous subterranean rumble of fear, a fear we’ve buried deep because none of us want to spare more than a passing thought on the ever looming catastrophe that is climate change. We’re scared, we feel helpless, and it already feels too late to change – the end of the world is nigh. It’s this very real sensation of living on the edge of disaster which THIS PLAY WILL SOLVE CLIMATE CHANGE centres around. Not only educational, but also entertaining and relatable, it may not be able to achieve exactly what it says on the tin, but you know what? It could certainly help.

THIS PLAY WILL SOLVE CLIMATE CHANGE focuses on the individual stories of four people and their relationship with climate change. The undiluted humanity of this piece is what drives it, what creates such a compelling watch, and what makes it work so well. The first character is a mother whose grown-up daughter doesn’t want to have children because she fears for the future of the planet that child would grow up on. It explores the feelings of guilt older generations experience and the realisation of quite how serious the situation is, the double edged sword of relief and terror that it probably won’t affect them personally, but that by the time their grandchildren are adults there could be no world left to make a life on. Another of the characters is a mother of two young daughters contemplating moving to the hills of Romania and becoming self-sufficient so that at least her family will survive when society’s resources run out. This is a woman who knows what’s happening and doesn’t see the possibility of a bright future for her children, instead she sees a future where capitalism and corporate greed has triumphed over common sense and self preservation, a world in which her daughters must know how to grow food, how to live off grid, and how to fight to protect themselves and their resources. Then there’s the third story, a woman who has just gotten a new job editing an environmental magazine and is learning quite how much trouble the planet is in for the first time. She reminisces about life before that knowledge, when going on holiday didn’t mean thinking about the environmental impact of an international flight, and she echoes the struggle we all feel wanting to do our bit but also wanting to still enjoy the luxuries we’re accustomed to in modern society. The final story is that of a young woman who may or may not be pregnant and isn’t sure how she feels about it, her feelings become even more complicated when she learns that the carbon footprint of raising a baby is astronomically high and she questions whether having a baby is ethically responsible during times of climate change crisis. The play also includes a number of physical theatre elements and facts and figures presented in the form of contestants playing a quiz show.

Now I’m pretty tuned in to current events and I keep a close eye on environmental news and climate change, there were still new things I took away from THIS PLAY WILL SOLVE CLIMATE CHANGE and I learned things I hadn’t known before – quite shocking things, actually. So as far as educational theatre goes this show does its job perfectly, and as well as that it’s incredibly entertaining. The play is peppered with teeth-gritting humour, a little sugar to help the medicine go down, and although its overall tone is urgent, it’s still very hopeful. It points the finger of blame where it’s deserved, it encourages people to think and to be better, and more than anything (and this is something I particularly appreciated) it says “we know how this feels, we know you’re trying, we know you’re scared, we are too, but we’re in this together and we can do this”. A quick shout-out to Chuma Emembolu for the lighting design of this show, which was noticeably excellent and effectively hit the mark and mood of each scene every time.

There were some elements of this show which didn’t work so well and seemed to distract from the play as filler for filler’s sake – one particular scene in which the cast throw around plastic bags seemed a little empty and went on for much too long. The show could also benefit from being more interactive as in the parts where it is it works really well, but this is underutilised. Another impactful element of the play comes in the form of two of the cast members, Freya and Mina Caines, two school children whose very presence is a constant reminder of our duty to preserve the future of our planet, and whose brave performances and clear passion for the topic are truly inspiring.

This Play Will Solve Climate Change is exactly what people need to see at the moment and if I had my way I’d have it performed in every town in the country. This is a great example of one of those plays which is doing good, important work and I look forward to seeing it grow, thrive, and inspire even more theatre just like it.

This Play Will Solve Climate Change ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
★ ★ ★ ★ ☆

Gina is a therapist with high hopes of helping troubled and vulnerable people find peace within themselves and discover their place in the world. Recovery and rehabilitation are her goals, but she may have bitten off more than she can chew when her work leads her to a facility for those with dangerous superpowers and she finds herself running therapy sessions for super villains.

Patients in her regular group sessions are Ink Lord, who can bring to life the things he paints, King Cobra, a drug baron who produces her own high-inducing venom, Lady Injustice, two students with opposing political ideals fused into one body, and Kevin who… well, nobody is quite sure what Kevin does. Armed with a notebook and a positive attitude, Gina refuses to believe that her patients were born bad and does everything within her power to make these over-powered convicts see the good in themselves, even when no one else can.

‘Villain, Interrupted’ is an absolute delight from start to finish, a humorous and snappy black comedy returning to that age-old question of nature versus nurture, exploring the ambiguous morality of incarcerating people for what they are rather than what they do. Effortlessly quick and witty, ‘Villain, Interrupted’ is riotous good fun packed full of high energy escapades and brimming with human warmth. Reminiscent of shows like Misfits and The Umbrella Academy, this is a must see for anyone who considers themselves a fan of tongue-in-cheek superhero stories.

Featuring scenes including a prison riot and a magical super powered attack on an art gallery, this is a staging challenge Dolls in Amber, the company behind ‘Villain, Interrupted’ met head on and passed with flying colours (literally!). A simple solution to a difficult undertaking is found in the form of an overhead projector and the clever use of acetate sheets. All the craziest action is projected onto a white screen, providing the full comic book effect and a wonderfully quirky aesthetic complete with speech bubbles, location changes, and visualised sound effects. This device is also utilised to provide an entertaining split screen effect at times, allowing the audience to see what’s happening in Gina’s imagination at the same time as what’s happening in reality.

There would be no way of pulling off this play without a seriously talented cast, and thankfully that’s exactly what the company of ‘Villain, Interrupted’ is comprised of. Emma Richardson plays Gina, looking for all the world like a well-meaning primary school teacher, and bringing an endearing, kooky, energetic positivity to this character, as well as, at times, a disarming vulnerability. The rest of the characters are played by an ensemble comprised of Sofia Greenacre, Freddie Stewart, and Francesca Forristal, whose multi-rolling talents carry this multifaceted show with distinctive characterisation and high energy physical theatre. Forristal’s ability to switch so effortlessly between being bumblingly comedic and deliciously sinister is a testament to her skills. Stuart’s performance as Ink Lord is layered with depth, both frightening and sympathetic, whilst Greenacre juggles the largest collection of roles with nimble dexterity and a great sense of timing.

What makes ‘Villain, Interrupted’ work so well is its consistency and awareness, both in tone, style, and pacing, no easy feat when telling such a big story in such a small space. This is a perfect example of how a little imagination can go a long way. If there’s one thing to take away from ‘Villain, Interrupted’ it’s that in theatre nothing is impossible. For a fun, bonkers, utterly spellbinding play with a world you can get fully immersed in then look no further than ‘Villain, Interrupted’.

Villain, Interrupted ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★☆

Upon reading the press release for Fine and Dandy at The King’s Head Theatre I have to admit I was excited – there are times as a reviewer where you find yourself reading about a show which ticks a lot of your personal interest boxes and Fine and Dandy was one of them. An unusual protagonist, an epic journey spanning continents, a cast of weird and wonderful characters, musical numbers, music hall, queer themes, and all set during the turn of the century? Yes please!

Fine and Dandy is the story of Ernest Faigele Fine, not quite a man and not quite a woman, but certainly quite a character! Ernest’s life is turned upside down when their family falls upon hard times and decides to immigrate. This is the beginning of a life changing journey for Ernest, who finds a home amongst the show folk of the British music halls and a particularly close bond with the enigmatic cabaret singer, Dandy. But Ernest and Dandy are not without enemies, there are con artists and villains around every corner awaiting to thwart all of the naive Ernest’s best laid plans.

There are some really good ideas at the core of Fine and Dandy, its overall tone is quirky and interesting, its music hall style lending the tall tale a certain kind of charm. But, despite this, the show needs a lot of work. Almost everything about it feels messy and under rehearsed, every member of the cast fluffed lines on more than one occasion, people were talking over one another and repeating lines that had already been said, diction was unclear, entrances and exits were chaotic, and the script itself was clumsy and confused. It felt a little like a high school pantomime trying to engage with Brechtian theatre practices and totally missing the mark.

Credit where credit is due, the cast were having a lot of fun and putting a great deal of effort into their performances, and the show was not without its merits. The costumes were fantastic, the overall aesthetic fascinating. Sarah Warren’s performance was particularly strong, displaying great physicality, a lovely singing voice, and some impressive accents. Praise too for Jo Sutherland whose role as Albert Shufflebottom was very amusing and wonderfully acted.

Let it not be said that there aren’t nuggets of genuinely entertaining moments in Fine and Dandy, but it certainly needs a re-working. The script itself is oddly paced, there’s a ‘climactic’ moment in which Ernest is reunited with their father, whilst all the main characters they’ve met along the way end up in the same scene, and this somehow feels tacked onto the end and almost entirely glossed over. The amount of unnecessary miming and sound effects from the chorus comes across as juvenile rather than clever, the over use of these techniques distracting, time consuming, and at times just plain obnoxious. The dialogue is gabbled and the lack of any real emotion makes it impossible to even get the gist of what’s going on when lines come out gabbled and confusing. Honestly, if I didn’t have a press release to read before going in I wouldn’t have been able to tell you what the show had been about. Not all shows need to have a discernable plot, I agree, but they do at least need to evoke some sort of emotional response, and sadly Fine and Dandy just didn’t have either.

There’s some sensitive subject matter in Fine and Dandy, one of the main plot points being Ernest’s discovery of a ‘Two-Spirit’ shaman, ‘Two-Spirit’ being a person Native American tribes believe are neither male nor female. It’s a fantastic idea but is handled so clumsily that it feels almost insensitive, which I’m reluctant to say due to the cast and crew being made up of many artists on the queer spectrum themselves. It’s clear to see that the intentions here were good, but the poor execution means that sadly the show is miles off of hitting its mark.

Fine and Dandy ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
★★☆☆☆

Now celebrating its fifth year showcasing amazing talent to visitors from far and wide, the Canterbury Shakespeare Festival is the up and coming must-see theatrical festival of the summer. Each year the festival offers a range of traditional and experimental Shakespearean delights to suit all ages and all tastes, whilst encouraging actors and creatives from all walks of life to give it a go and take part. It’s rare to see true, honest-to-goodness community theatre these days, particularly on this scale and of this quality, but thank the gods the team behind the Canterbury Shakespeare Festival (CSF) are working hard to keep it alive.

This year I had the pleasure of seeing Hamlet, one of six shows on offer this summer season. Hamlet is often regarded as Shakespeare’s greatest play, and if that weren’t reason enough for most sane directors to not want to touch it with a ten foot barge pole then its complex and problematic protagonist, its large cast, and its sheer length and running time will usually do the trick. It’s a mammoth undertaking, even harder still to take it and do something different with it. But that’s exactly the challenge Elliot Huxtable undertook with his abridged production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet. This unusual take on the classic revenge story brings a whole new dimension to the stage when the titular character begins to doubt his reality and suspects that he may be in a play.

For anyone unfamiliar with the play, Hamlet is the tale of a prince (Hamlet) whose uncle has murdered his father and married his mother. Hamlet swears vengeance on his villainous uncle after his father’s ghost appears and tells him to avenge him, but the weight of grief and the poison of hatred grow heavy and toxic within and soon Hamlet is forced to reflect upon exactly what it is to live, to die, to love and to hate until it drives him to his own untimely end. Huxtable’s unique take on this tragedy puts a focus on Hamlet’s mental state and plays with not only the concept of self, but of reality. Hamlet’s madness manifests as an increasing awareness of the audience’s presence, his eyes and his words directed at us during his most desperate and vulnerable moments. We, in watching him, become his tormentors, the grinning demons in his mind judging him, waiting for him to fail, waiting for him to die, and sitting idly by as his life and his own sanity falls apart around him.

The titular character is played by Ciaran Barata-Hynes, whose complex and nuanced take brings the depth needed for this iconic role. Unpredictable, erratic, and self-aware to a fault, this is definitely a Hamlet on the edge. Barata-Hynes’s performance is exhausting to watch, one minute soft, heart-breaking and tender, the next fraught with the desperate violence of a wounded animal. In those moments Hamlet sees the audience manifested before him we see the fear in his eyes, the existential dread, and the desperate, silent plea for help which we all know will not come. Other stand-out performances include Nick Surrudge’s Polonius, who somehow manages to be delightfully endearing and groan-worthily exasperating simultaneously. He bumbles about the stage well meaning but ultimately an interfering busy-body. Esme Friel should also be commended for a haunting take on the character of Ophelia, coupling all the gentle delicacy we usually see from this role with all the intelligence and self-awareness we usually don’t. Friel throws herself courageously into the part with unflinching boldness and is particularly captivating as we watch Ophelia’s descent into her own madness, going from manic pixie dream girl to manic pixie nightmare.

What's most impressive about this production of Hamlet is its sheer entertainment value. I can barely count all the different versions I’ve seen of this classic and not only does this version feel fresh and new, but it’s also utterly compelling from start to finish. It’s funny, it’s heart-breaking, it’s gut-wrenching, and it’s philosophical in the way Shakespeare intended, which a lot directors often forget. As an abridged version of Hamlet the pacing is still spot on, cuts and changes made so seamlessly that it’s impossible to tell where they are. Budget restrictions of community theatre aside, this is the best take on Shakespeare’s Hamlet I’ve seen to date and I hope that, unlike its titular character, it lives long and thrives.

Hamlet ~ [Westgate Hall/Greyfriar Gardens Canterbury] ~ Review
★★★★★

In the same week that it was announced Alan Turing will be the new face of the fifty pound note another gay hero was remembered on a much smaller stage at The Kings Head in Islington. The Last Song of Oliver Sipple is a one man show about real life Vietnam veteran who, in 1975, stopped the assassination of American President Gerald Ford when a crazed gunwoman made an attempt on his life. In the days and weeks that followed the world wanted to know more about this national hero – who was he? Where had he come from? What was in store for him next? What would the President say when he invited him to the White House?

But journalists prying into the life of Oliver Sipple soon came across some startling information about his personal life – Sipple was a homosexual. Against his wishes the media released articles laying Sipple’s personal life bare for all to see, a devastating breech of privacy for Sipple, who had not yet even come out to his family. What should have been a celebration of a man who saved the life of a world leader became a vicious expose by a group of headline grabbing mud rakers who, over the next ten years or more, systematically destroyed Sipple’s life.

This was a story which I was previously unfamiliar with, and I can’t thank those involved in this show enough for bringing this incredible, important, and tragic tale to my attention. I love a good untold story, particularly those which fall under the category of queer history, and The Last Song of Oliver Sipple has everything one could hope to get out of an hour of theatre in this genre. David Hendon’s moving script is an insightful glimpse into the impact that a homophobic society has on an individual placed on a public platform. And it’s not just the cruelty of these homophobes which Hendon shines a light upon, but the scorn of Sipple’s own community when he asks that his private life remain just that – private.

There’s such a sense of helpless desperation to this show, Sipple’s life removed completely from his own control and carried away like a plastic bag in a high force gale. Jackson Pentland does a fantastic job of carrying the play, bringing an intuitive understanding to Sipple’s moments of pain and an easy brevity to his moments of mirth and resilience (and his drunk singing may be the best I’ve seen on stage!). His performance isn’t quite flawless, he favours the upwards inflection at the end of sentences a little too often and his American accent could use a little more honing, but they’re small gripes for an otherwise captivating performance.

The direction of The Last Song of Oliver Sipple is... a little odd. Each scene change is marked by the lights dimming, the chorus of a different classic pop song blasts out, and Sipple stands and dances to it, moving from one position to another. For the first scene or five this is fine, it’s formulaic but it works, but as the play gets more serious, more intense, and more upsetting these scene changes become jarring and even a little insensitive. Somewhere along the way it just stops working and becomes a distraction from the story rather than a tool to keep it going.

There’s more than just potential here, there’s a good show, which could become a great one with some minor tweaks, and I sincerely hope that it does. Thirty years after his death The Last Song of Oliver Sipple is a credit to his memory and a heart breaking tribute to every courageous person whose great deeds and achievements have been overshadowed by people’s obsession with who one takes to bed.

★★★☆☆

Every queer person who has managed to take the brave leap out of the closet remembers their coming out story, an important milestone and a huge step towards self acceptance and living your truth. Personally mine was anti-climactic, I’d been dating my then girlfriend in secret for about six months, having told my parents we were just really good friends and had a lot of sleepovers. This one Sunday morning my mum came to pick me up from my girlfriend’s house and as she drove me home I decided that this was it, this was the day I’d let her know about this secret double life I’d been leading. This was the moment my life was about to change forever.

“Mum...” I said, “I, erm, I have something to tell you... I don’t know how you’re going to react... See, the thing is... I... erm...”
“You’re a lesbian,” Mum said for me, “And you’re dating Emily. I know. And it’s fine. You are who you are and I will always love you, you’re my daughter.”
And that was it. I was almost disappointed... almost.

But for every coming out story as positive as my experience there’s another story about a family torn apart by the revelation, and it’s these wildly varied and deeply personal tales Freddie Brook explores in his one man show Just Don’t Shout it from the Rooftops. Over the past two years Brook has collected coming out stories from all over the world and has woven them together into an educational and deeply touching piece of theatre. He explores the vast spectrum of experiences with a great deal of understanding and sensitivity, and although there are moments which are truly heart-breaking, the overall take away is positive and uplifting, one core message running through its centre – it gets better.

The show is made up of stories performed in the original teller’s words, giving a real candid, fly-on-the-wall feel to this piece and making it all the more poignant. Brook is a fantastic physical actor who captures the different visible quirks and speech patterns of these people wonderfully, so with each story it really does feel as though you’re meeting a different person. The pace of this show is fast, and in forty five minutes there isn’t a single lull, a single stumble, and the audience remains enraptured throughout. With nothing more than two pairs of glasses and a coffee cup, I’ve never seen anything so technically simple explore a topic this big with such earnest depth and complexity.

The idea behind this show is for it to be used as a piece of educational theatre to take to schools all over the country, to teach kids about the coming out experience, that they aren’t alone and it does get better. Open discussion and a little support is all that’s needed for LGBTQ+ children to not feel so alone, and this forty five minutes of theatre could be life changing. I wish I’d seen this when I was at school. Although things have gotten better for LGBTQ+ rights over the years homophobia is still rife, particularly in areas outside of big cities, and as someone who grew up in a tiny village I can tell you that knowing you’re not alone can be the difference between misery and happiness. Every high school kid should see this. Every parent should see this.

Just Don’t Shout it from the Rooftops showcases the bravery and resilience of the LGBTQ+ community in a deeply personal and human way. There are moments which make you laugh out loud, whilst others will bring you to tears and leave you curled up in your seat and bawling like a baby (like one very moved reviewer...). The show is concluded with a few inspirational words from Brook himself and some fantastic advice for the community in general. There’s something quite profound about Just Don’t Shout it from the Rooftops, there’s a sense of hearts reaching out to other hearts from right across the world, a web of love, support, and understanding, with Brook orchestrating these connections and acting as the mouthpiece for the guidance we wish we had the power to give one another.

Just Don’t Shout It From The Rooftops ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★★

It’s the week before LGBTQ+ Pride in London and homosexuals, bisexuals, transgender, non-binary, and other folk from all colours of the Pride spectrum are getting ready to celebrate the relatively recent allowance we’ve been granted in this country – the freedom to be ourselves. It’s the perfect time for FAST LOVE, the most honest and personally relatable piece of queer theatre I’ve ever seen. Whilst arguably not the most unique or clever gay play to grace the London stage, FAST LOVE is undeniably important, and for anyone who thinks that Pride is unnecessary I’d suggest watching it and then getting back to me.

On stepping out of the theatre after FAST LOVE I wasn’t sure how I could write an objective review about it without being sentimental... but, here’s the thing folks, theatre is sentimental, it’s the most sentimental form of art there is, it’s live storytelling, we’ve been doing it since we lived in caves, and of course it’s going to evoke a very emotional response in its audience. Such an honest and open piece of theatre deserves an honest and open review in response, so here it goes, sentiment an’ all...

Fast Love is a one act, two hander play that tells the story of a young gay man looking back on his life and the moments that defined him. It’s a standard set-up, it’s been done a dozen times before, but Fast Love is different because it feels real. It’s not sensationalised, it has no agenda (gay or otherwise), and it’s subtle and over the top in a way only real life can be. Its main focus is mental health and the impact that our society’s treatment of LGBTQ people has on that. I’ll never forget the day a close friend of mine turned around to me and recommended I see a therapist. “But I’m alright,” I protested, “No you’re not,” he replied, “You’re gay, none of us are alright.” And it was then that I took a long, hard look at my queer friends and realised that he was right, none of us had escaped our teenage years unscathed and we all had demons we had to do battle with every day. This is what Fast Love captures so beautifully, not the drama of coming out to an unaccepting family or the struggles of adopting children, or getting beaten to within an inch of your life by homophobes, no, this is the story of a guy who has lived a pretty standard young gay life, no ‘dun dun dundun dundun’ Eastenders cliffhanger moments, just the hundreds of little, insignificant struggles queer folk encounter on a daily basis.

Camp, fun, and packed with tongue in cheek wit, FAST LOVE is deliciously disarming – we’re given a rundown of key milestones in the life of Rory, our protagonist, as he introduces himself to his latest Grindr hook-up. Jeremy Franklin plays Rory with an infectious confidence which masks his deep insecurities impeccably until the moments in which that mask slips and we catch a glimpse of his deep vulnerability. Although he could afford to slow down at times, Franklin brings a great deal of depth to this character and throws his heart and soul into it with an admirable raw courage. Over the course of this hour long show it feels like making a friend, reminiscing about drinking too many WKDs at house parties and being very underwhelmed by your first kiss. It’s relatable for anyone of a certain generation, gay or straight, but LGBTQ audience members will recognise the complexities in these stories and how they differ from the heterosexual experience. That first kiss, for example, probably wasn’t with someone we had any attraction to, because at high school no way could you ever share your first kiss with someone of the same gender, not if you wanted to survive to do your GCSEs! Being queer comes with difficulties that it’s almost impossible to fully understand for anyone who hasn’t experienced it. Watching Fast Love was like experiencing an hour of deja vu – practically every scene could have been a verbatim anecdote from one of my friend’s lives.

Sven Ironside plays The Man, amongst a collection of other side characters Rory has interactions with throughout his flashbacks, he also acts as a helpful mediator between the audience and Rory, who is not the most reliable of narrators, and holds him accountable whenever he misremembers an event, whether intentionally or not. Ironside brings a fresh physicality to each new character and throws himself into each role with gusto.

The set is simple but effective, a white bedroom with white walls, white sheets, and white furniture, disrupted by a rainbow of confetti which quite literally explodes onstage in the opening scene, a great visual representation of Rory’s state of mind. It’s not until nearer the end of the play that we start to get the sense that things are really not okay and that, try as he might, Rory can’t find his place in a world which wasn’t built for people like him. It feels like having a DMC (deep, meaningful conversation) with your bestie at 3am, it feels like not knowing how to help them. Stuck in a rut of trying to find connection through casual sexual encounters, then made to feel ashamed and alone by the lack of relief they provide and doing it all again to distract from feeling so utterly helpless... Rory’s story is a common one.

“These intense pockets of one on one contact are like anaesthetic to me,” he says, at which point it feels like someone has charged a battering ram into my gut.

That’s the thing people get wrong about the struggles of LGBTQ people. It’s not that we’re all getting beaten up or spat on on a daily basis, it’s not that we’re all laying emaciated in a hospital bed as AIDS consumes our diseased bodies, it’s not that we’re all being raped or castrated or drugged or any of the other horrendous ordeals we’ve been subjected to historically (and in some parts of the world currently). No, the thing that breaks us is a society which tells us every day, in a hundred small and subtle ways, that we’re abnormal, we’re ‘other’, we’re less worthy of love and peace and security, we’re, at best, an afterthought, simply because of the way we’re wired to love. That’s why we can’t touch, why we can’t feel, why we can’t connect, and that’s what’s killing us. And this, dear readers, is what FAST LOVE conveys with intelligent and unflinching honesty.

Fast Love ~ [The Lion and Unicorn Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★

Electra is one of the greatest revenge stories ever told, a Greek tragedy centring on a family torn apart by grief and murder. At the start of Sophocles’ Electra we find the titular character still mourning the death of her father, the king, many years after his murder at the hand of her mother, Clytemnestra. Electra’s last hope lies with her brother, Orestes, who she prays will soon return from exile to kill their mother for her unspeakable crime. But what is so interesting about this particular tale is that it’s not as black and white as it may first appear – Electra’s mother had her own revenge in mind when murdering her husband. Her motive? To avenge the death of their eldest daughter whom the old king had sacrificed to the gods.

These events have all occurred before the curtain comes up and are helpfully explained in the ‘background’ section of the programme provided for this fresh and powerful new take on a Greek classic. An opening monologue from Electra’s unnamed friend, who acts as narrator and guide throughout the play, gives a moving and succinct account of these events, and by its conclusion there is no doubt in the audience’s mind that these characters are at breaking point. This opening monologue sets the tone perfectly, not only for the misery of this story but for the incredible quality of the acting in this production. Molly Peterson, who plays this unnamed friend, has the audience transfixed from word go, her incredible stage presence and fearless, emotive performance sets the bar high, and the rest of this play does not disappoint.

Every aspect, every element of this production has clearly been thought out with a great degree of time and attention. High praise goes to director Isaiah Michalski for the meticulous care taken bringing this difficult and challenging play to life through clever use of sound, props, set, and lighting. This production is, in a word, tight – no detail is frivolous, no choice made without regard, and the methods used are all simple but incredibly effective. For example, all mood setting sound is provided by one single cello, played and composed by Marie Carroll. This entire production is a perfect lesson in how great theatre can be achieved on a limited budget.

Michalski’s brilliant vision for this play is brought to life by bold, nuanced performances from a seriously talented cast. They’re not afraid of silences and pauses, nor of raging fury and inconsolable grief, all delivered with real feeling and a painstaking awareness of pace and timing. The whole cast works well together, displaying an intimate chemistry between these complex characters and their complex relationships to one another. My only criticism would be that occasionally the highly emotive scenes could have benefitted from some more variety in volume and tone to make shouted moments more impactful, but overall the performances delivered were heart wrenching.

Although this play centres around Orestes mission to avenge his father with the help of his mentor, Didaskalos, it is very much a story about women, with men and the glory of their violence taking a back seat to the repercussions for the women left to deal with the chaos left in the wake of their destructive behaviour. It’s a production full of frantic energy, stained red with pain and anguish, threat of further violence always looming.

Clytemnestra is the closest thing to a villain in this story, but Ruva Chigwedere’s portrayal benefits from a multi-layered and borderline unhinged approach to the bereaved mother turned murderer, she throws herself into this role with gusto and delivers a sympathetic character trying to hold things together through her grief and ultimately failing. Ben Milliken makes for a high energy but subtly vulnerable Orestes, his physicality that of a tiger wound tight and ready to spring into violent action. The same can be said for Freddie MacBruce’s Didaskalos, who tears about the stage like a man possessed but with a calculating intelligence lacking in his younger friend. The voice of reason comes in the form of Electra’s sister Chrysothemis, the peace keeper, and kudos to Ece Hakim who engaged with the sweetness and gentle strength of this role whilst still making her presence known, no easy feat amongst a cast of such big personalities! And then, finally, there’s Electra, an incredibly complex and exhausting role delivered with an intelligent regard for the nuances of human grief by actress Balim Barutçu.

This production of Electra provides no answers, it gives no guidance, it presents the emotional turmoil of each member of a family destroyed by bloodshed and, quite literally, asks the audience to come to their own conclusion over who is in the right. Was Clytemnestra justified in the murder of her husband after his destruction of their child? Are her children right to seek revenge on her for their father’s death? The audience is left to puzzle this one out for themselves long after the curtain comes down. It’s a play not to be forgotten in a hurry.

Electra ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review
★★★★★

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December ~ [Online Theatre] ~ Review
THE DIRTY 30 II: ELECTRIC PAY-PER-VIEW ~ [Online Theatre] ~ Review
Canary ~ [Network Theatre] ~ Review
The Glass Imaginary ~ [The Drayton Arms Theatre] ~ Review
Happily Ever Poofter ~ [Kings Head Theatre] ~ Review
The Importance of Being Earnest ~ [Tower Theatre] ~ Review
I'm Begging You to Hurt Me (a rehearsed reading) ~ [The Drayton Arms Theatre] ~ Review
Captain Breadbeard's Bready Brilliant Comedy Cookbook ~ [The Camden People's Theatre] ~ Review
A Prayer for Wings ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
Thank You and Goodnight ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
Granny Grotbag Says Goodbye ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
Patricia Gets Ready (for a Date With the Man Who Used to Hit Her) ~ [The White Bear] ~ Review
This Play Will SOlve Climate Change ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review
Villain, Interrupted ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review
Fine and Dandy ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
Hamlet ~ [Westgate Hall/Greyfriar Gardens Canterbury] ~ Review
The Last Song of Oliver Sipple ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
Just Don't Shout it from the Rooftops ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review
Fast Love ~ [Lion and Unicorn Theatre] ~ Review
Electra ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review

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Musings of a Theatre Junkie

Recent Entries

December ~ [Online Theatre] ~ Review

THE DIRTY 30 II: ELECTRIC PAY-PER-VIEW ~ [Online Theatre] ~ Review

Canary ~ [Network Theatre] ~ Review

The Glass Imaginary ~ [The Drayton Arms Theatre] ~ Review

Happily Ever Poofter ~ [Kings Head Theatre] ~ Review

The Importance of Being Earnest ~ [Tower Theatre] ~ Review

I'm Begging You to Hurt Me (a rehearsed reading) ~ [The Drayton Arms Theatre] ~ Review

Captain Breadbeard's Bready Brilliant Comedy Cookbook ~ [The Camden People's Theatre] ~ Review

A Prayer for Wings ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review

Thank You and Goodnight ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review

Granny Grotbag Says Goodbye ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review

Patricia Gets Ready (for a Date With the Man Who Used to Hit Her) ~ [The White Bear] ~ Review

This Play Will SOlve Climate Change ~ [The White Bear Theatre] ~ Review

Villain, Interrupted ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review

Fine and Dandy ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review

Hamlet ~ [Westgate Hall/Greyfriar Gardens Canterbury] ~ Review

The Last Song of Oliver Sipple ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review

Just Don't Shout it from the Rooftops ~ [The King's Head Theatre] ~ Review

Fast Love ~ [Lion and Unicorn Theatre] ~ Review

Electra ~ [The Etcetera Theatre] ~ Review