Death Note: The Musical at The Barbican. Photo: Manuel Harlan
A new musical based on a popular Manga tells the story of a student who is given a ‘Death Note’ by the gods and discovers whoever’s name he writes in it will die. He becomes a killer and is hunted by a genius detective. Most of the critics loved Stephen Whitson’s production (‘stunning visuals and all-around formidable cast’ BroadwayWorld) but a couple didn’t (‘dead on arrival’ Telegraph). They couldn’t even agree about Frank Wildhorn and Jack Murphy‘s music (‘haunting, majestic’ WhatsOnStage; ‘compositions alternate between pop-rock anthems and mopey ballads’ Standard).
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
WhatsOnStage‘s Alun Hood loved it. He likened it to a ‘gleaming, glittering fantastical beast. This is a very big show in every sense: ambition, emotions, scale, spectacle, cast… and sheer entertainment value.’ He admitted: ‘In the cold light of day, it’s utterly preposterous, of course, but such is the world-building in Stephen Whitson’s epically stylish production and the consistency of tone in Menchell’s writing that, once you buy into the bombastic madness, this really is a terrific time in the theatre.’ He continued to pile on the praise to the end of his refiew: ‘the production values alone outstrip most current West End musicals, and the haunting, majestic pop score is surely enough to inspire repeat visits from fans. This is a total blast.’
Mica Blackwell for BroadwayWorld assured us: ‘Putting aside the plot’s occasional disjointedness, there is much to enjoy in Death Note. Diehard fans will love seeing the world brought to life with its stunning visuals and all-around formidable cast, while newcomers will quickly give themselves over to the thrilling melodrama. If there’s one thing Death Note won’t do this summer, it’s leave you dying of boredom.’
Andrew Pulver for The Guardian found: ‘Shorn of the original’s convoluted digressions, and with a dilution of the original manga’s play for the teen-boy readership, this emerges as a smart, metaphysical whodunnit – or perhaps, more accurately, howdunnit – with a nice line in emotional intensity cranked up by its power-ballad musical score (…) Death Note purists might not be completely on board with the alterations, but I would challenge anyone not to have a good time with this.’
Olivia Rook at LondonTheatre liked the look: ‘Jon Bausor’s striking set uses a platform to separate the gods from the humans, which doubles as gritty architecture for Tokyo’s skyline. Video designer Akhila Krishnan’s flickering projections of neon lights and rain evocatively capture a sense of place, helping to pull together a stylish production that is dressed to kill.’
The Financial Times’ Sarah Hemming wrote that it was ‘a riotous spectacle, and the young central trio give cracking performances. Pang is excellent as the increasingly megalomaniac Light; Ryan makes L weirdly charismatic and has a great voice; Stephanie Zaharis shines as Misa, the pop star who, somewhat improbably, gets mixed up in it all. Leung is very enjoyable as the cackling, amoral Ryuk and Grace Mouat is a standout as Rem, the spirit who falls in love. Not to die for, but an entertaining night out.’
2 stars ⭑⭑
The Standard‘s Nick Curtis was blunt: ‘it’s a mixture of mumbo-jumbo, crime-story cliche and anodyne teen wish-fulfilment. Frank Wildhorn’s compositions alternate between pop-rock anthems and mopey ballads. Stephen Whitson’s heavy-handed production is full of brutish air-clawing choreography and wooden exposition.’
1 star ⭑
Tim Robey, the Telegraph‘s film critic, was unimpressed: ‘Death Note: The Musical crash-lands at the Barbican – not so much souped-up as dead on arrival. Not a single one of the 27 belted-out songs has the power to resurrect it (…) Even fathoming why it’s a musical at all is beyond me (…) You’d be hard pressed to send this music anywhere other than the bin: it serves up tranche after tranche of undifferentiated rock-opera sludge, with rudimentary lyrics, and far too many songs that run in circles getting the story nowhere.’
Critics’ average rating 3.4⭑
Value rating 21 (Average rating combined with typical ticket price)
Cleansed is a play containing a lot of scenes of torture. In fact, if you see it, you might feel you’ve been tortured yourself, at least mentally. The trigger warnings issued by The Almeida Theatre read like a litany of everything that could possibly cause upset: Torture, murder and violence, including sexual violence, Depictions of sex and nudity, Drug abuse, Depictions of suicide, Homophobic language, Misogynistic language, Blood.
Oh yes, there’s a lot of Kensington Gore or whoever makes stage blood these days. And no explanation of why, where or who. But this is a serious work by a talented playwright, not out to shock for the sake of it. Sarah Kane, who sadly committed suicide a few years after writing it, claimed that Cleansed could only be done in a theatre with no mediating by TV or film censors. It’s just them on stage and us in the audience. Except, thirty years on, I doubt any of the incidents that take place on this stage would be censored in an 18 certificate film. Ironically, this production’s director Rebecca Frecknall has censored it quite a bit.
Nevertheless it is still more potent as theatre than it would be on screen because we are present in the same space as the actors, who use their own voices and bodies, to communicate directly with our senses to stir our imagination. And the power of imagination is where theatre scores every time. This is especially so when stimulated by Sarah Kane’s beautifully constructed play and spare, lyrical writing.
‘Cleansing’ has a specific meaning in religions, particularly the Catholic one, where immorality needs to be cleansed. Also, we have witnessed too often in our own lifetimes attempts at ‘ethnic cleansing’. Only four years prior to the premiere of Cleansed, the Rwandan Civil War had taken place, in which the Hutus in power tried to wipe out Tutsis completely, and murdered up to a million people including fellow Hutus who opposed them. The play takes to the extreme the way moral disapproval or disagreement can spiral into punishment and elimination.
She knew that the torture and, for some, the sexual relationships would be shocking. Her first play Blasted had been described by Daily Mail theatre critic Jack Tinker as a ‘disgusting feast of filth’. Perhaps to counter this way of dismissing her work, she incorporated many echoes of previous respected plays and other works, some of which I’ll mention.
In this play, we meet a number of what you might call transgressive people. There’s a homosexual male couple- and this play was written when there were still restrictions on gay relationships that didn’t apply to heterosexual ones. Even today gay people in the UK don’t feel entirely safe. Elsewhere, including that influencers’ and holidaymakers’ paradise Dubai, same sex relations are illegal. In the UK’s great ally Saudi Arabia, the death penalty still applies.
We meet a brother and sister, Grace and Graham, who are or were in an incestuous relationship, something still illegal in the UK. It didn’t end well for a similar relationship in John Ford’s 17th century play ‘Tis Pity She’s A Whore, nor does it here. The line ‘Love me or kill me’ which Grace says to Graham is a direct lift from it.
Completing the victims, Robin is a submissive transvestite; and a character described as Woman, who performs in a peep show, would seem to be a sex worker.
The play is set in a place said in the script to be a university but it bears all the hallmarks of a secret prison or asylum. Madeleine Girling‘s set is an anonymous grey. If it is a university, this may be a humorous reference to the re-education taking place under the tutelage of a man called Tinker. (Probably not coincidentally the name of the aforementioned theatre critic.) He is played by Leo Bill as a seedy and creepily unpleasant psychopath but with hints of anxiety. He sets about punishing the inmates, for want of a better term. The gay couple promise love to each other, although the heart-on-his-sleeve naive Carl, played by a wide-eyed Luke Cinque-White, is far more certain of his commitment than Parth Thakerar’s Rod who settles for love in the here and now. Thus, it is Carl who undergoes one ‘correction’ after another, his tongue removed to stop him talking about love, his hands to stop him writing about it, and more. That’s a straight steal from Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus, and there’s further scene that echoes the red hot poker fate of Christopher Marlowe’s Edward the Second.
Ms Kane seems to be reminding us that there’s nothing new in the horrors of the world, nor the challenges that authors present to audiences and directors in portraying them. Carl does betray his lover, and here there are echoes of George Orwell’s 1984, another story of the intolerance of totalitarianism.But it is Rod who pays the ultimate price when he realises that his love is deeper than he realised.
Graham, the brother in the incestuous couple, played by Jack Riddiford, dies at the very beginning of the play in a scene that sets the tone for the evening. He begs to end it all and is injected by Tinker with a drug in the eyeball. But he remains on stage as someone in the imagination of his sister, Grace. This is a clue for some that the play is a dream, or series of dreams. It’s a possible interpretation and one that was leaned on in the National Theatre production of 2015, but I don’t think we should give in to our need to understand and explain. There’s no plot in Cleansed, and no need to try to find one. Rather than a dream, Cleansed seems to offer a metaphor, floating outside the confines of narrative or plot, for the price of love, the pain it causes in a loveless world.
The Kinks’ Days is played at one point which I assume is significant for its lyric: ‘though you’re gone, you’re with me every single day, believe me’. We also hear Handel’s Water Music throughout, as if art is neutral in the battle between love and hate. Only Angus MacRae’s repetitive background sound picks up the menace.
Grace, who is played with passion by Pearl Chanda, arrives asking for her dead brother’s clothes. She is introduced to Robin, who is wearing Graham’s clothes. Both are made to strip off and put on each other’s clothes. I think the nudity here is meant to prove she is a woman, since she subsequently identifies with her brother, first seeing her and him as one, and ultimately seeing herself as him. Shades here of Viola’s adoption of her brother Sebastian’s persona in Twelfth Night,, and of Cathy’s exclamation ‘I am Heathcliff’ in Wuthering Heights. Grace is submitted to a number of horrible humiliations, including rape, and eventually a possibly logical but not necessarily welcome surgery.
Robin, played with sensitivity by the Stuart Thompson, falls in love with Grace, and is punished for that. Grace tries to teach him to read. Tinker burns the books. Book burning has gone on through the centuries when authorities have wanted to eliminate opposition, immorality or whole cultures. In the 20th century, the Nazis burned books by Jews and left wing writers.
Love is tested, and characters are punished for their love, but it survives until they die. Flowers, first a sunflower, then a field of daffodils represent a world of beauty.
Tinker himself is susceptible to feeling love, although in his case it manifests as lust which he cannot satisfy. Every so often he makes a peep-show dancer called Woman, played by Lizzie Connolly, perform for him while he masturbates unsuccessfully. She says her name is Grace and eventually takes advantage of his lust by showing him her breasts, saying she loves him, and having sex with him, even though she is probably exploiting his weakness in order to escape.
So, how does Rebecca Frecknall handle the violence? She starts with two explicit events- the injection in the eyeball, and the cutting off of a tongue. This serves to put us on edge as to what might happen next. What does happen is that she moves much more towards suggestion. I do see the difficulty of making torture on stage convincing, without distracting us into thinking ‘how did they do that?’ or ‘that wasn’t very realistic’. What Ms Frecknall does is go all symbolic. So hands and feet are not prosthetics that are actually cut off. Instead, these bodily extremities remain attached and are simply soaked in blood. A castration is so symbolic, you might not even realise what was happening.
The characters are beaten up, hurled against walls, or sexually assaulted. Their attackers are invisible and the actors mime their reactions. Ms Frecknall makes this beautiful and balletic but not particularly upsetting. Rats, a prominent feature in the script, don’t make an appearance although we do hear them.
Maybe Sarah Kane would have approved of the violence becoming beautiful. After all, she went on to say after writing, and even performing in it: ‘I’m past violence – I’m really sick of it.’ She did go on to write less violent plays but my impression is, she intended this play to make us confront the violence in ourselves, not skirt around it. To look squarely at what we as humans are capable of. And what we as individuals fear: the point at which we might cause violence to others, even someone we love, to save ourselves. For me, Rebecca Frecknall’s interpretation toned it down too much.
Cleansed’s representation of evil and the fight for love does lack subtlety. Personally I find the less explicit plays of Harold Pinter more menacing and more effective in their explorations of intolerance and domination. Even so, Cleansed is a well constructed piece of theatre from a playwright who had much insight into our world of hate and love.
Cleansed can be seen at The Almeida Theatre, London, until 29 August 2026. Tickets from https://almeida.co.uk
Dorothy Atkinson & Roger Allam in How The Other Half Loves. Photo: Manuel Harlan
Alan Aykbourn’s early play about marital troubles consolidates its reputation as a comedy classic. Some reviewers found certain elements of misogyny dated but most felt the play was either skewering the failings of men back in the sixties, or still relevant. The story of infidelity being covered up at two dinner parties that take place on separate nights but simultaneously on stage was well received, as well as Philip Breen’s in-the-round production (‘highly enjoyable’ FT). The cast were praised, especially Roger Allam (‘a masterclass in comic timing’ Telegraph & Times).
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Marianka Swain for the Telegraph explained: ‘What could be funnier than one excruciating dinner party? Try two – played simultaneously’. She continued: ‘Phillip Breen’s production is in the round, as originally intended, heightening our voyeuristic sense of peeking behind the suburban net curtains’. She liked the look: ‘Howell supplies eye-popping design, from a turquoise landline to orange stripes, flares and, memorably, Allam’s skimpy running shorts. This is firmly embraced as a period piece, though Ayckbourn’s sharp observations about class, matrimonial malaise, gender inequality and English repression still hit home. It’s a reminder that this genius writer delivers his comedy with a sting in the tail.’ She raved about Roger: ‘Allam’s Frank is a joy, a man lost in the mists of his own self-esteem, who can make a tediously detailed instruction on how to find the bathroom into a masterclass in comic timing’.
The Financial Times’ Sarah Hemming agreed: ‘Phillip Breen’s highly enjoyable revival at London’s Old Vic relishes the period detail, while also scoping out the shrewd social commentary and fundamental human truths that underpin the chaos.’
The Independent’s Alice Saville noted: ‘In this surreal domestic comedy, the marital state becomes an elaborate instrument of torture. Three couples become entangled in its workings, their spirits crushed and their wits mangled by it.’ She ended: This revival is full of broad, sprawling performances, which sometimes warp this drama’s neat structure, but often illuminate the terror of living in a world whose social rules were changing at lightning speed. Break the rules of marriage and the whole world starts to collapse along with them.‘
The Times’ Clive Davis centred on Roger Allam: ‘Whether he’s simply putting on his raincoat or making an entrance in his underpants, you can’t take your eyes off Roger Allam. If there are moments when the Old Vic’s revival of How the Other Half Loves grinds through the gears — some characters are closer to props than real people — Allam delivers a masterclass in comic timing. Every pause, every hesitation, every bumbled phrase is a delight.’
Mark Lawson reviewing for The Guardian had a good evening: ‘The cast of six … is more than half the joy, their verbal and physical humour stopping the show as surely as big numbers in musicals’.
Aliya Al-Hassan popped up at WhatsOnStage to say: ‘director Phillip Breen delivers a masterful interpretation of Ayckbourn’s How The Other Half Loves. A deliciously amusing exposure of class anxiety and gender politics, it is as relevant today as it was when written in 1969.’ She concluded: ‘is testament to the skill of the performers that the energy never drops. A laugh-out-loud and multi-layered production.’
BroadwayWorld’s Alexander Cohen praised members of the cast: ‘Adam Gillen’s mesmerisingly Buster Keaton-like physicality (…) Roger Allam relishes in sending up Frank’s public school pompousness, bobbing around like a stiff-necked owl’.
Cheryl Markoski for LondonTheatre called it ‘utterly hilarious and at times shockingly painful’.
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
The Stage’s Sam Marlowe was a bit sniffy about it: ‘There’s not a lot here to chew on, really, but Breen serves up the chuckles and the winces with aplomb. Theatregoers with a taste for Ayckbourn’s brand of adroit old-school entertainment will no doubt tuck in.’
The Standard’s Nick Curtis was unmoved: ‘It’s meticulously plotted and executed, elegantly staged in the round as originally conceived, and coasts successfully on the comic timing of Dorothy Atkinson and Roger Allam … It’s also wildly implausible and dated. I found myself smiling thinly amid belly-laughers.’
Critics’ average rating 3.8⭑
Value rating 50 (Critics’ rating combined with typical ticket price)
After becoming pretty tired in its old incarnation, and then having its reputation trashed by a misguided movie, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats has made quite the comeback at Regent’s Park Open Air Theatre, mainly thanks to the choreography of director Drew McOnie (‘lifts the source material to a new level’ Times). All the critics, to a greater or lesser extent, praised the new production, not only for the continuous dancing but also the costumes, set and performances. The main criticism remains that the basic story is ‘absolute nonsense’ (Independent).
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
5 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑
Marianka Swain for LondonTheatre told us: ‘Regent’s Park boss Drew McOnie now directs and choreographs a bold, contemporary, exhilarating revival that banishes all thoughts of the nightmarish 2019 movie. It is, in short, a purr-fect rebirth.’ She noted that Gillian Lynne’s original choreography was ‘virtuosic’: ‘McOnie honours her legacy while finding his own fresh language: earthier, infused with commercial, contemporary, street dance and acrobatics, as well as feline touches, from undulating, slinking bodies to the dancers curling up in a big sleepy pile. Tellingly, his company wear knee pads rather than leg warmers, and there’s no fur here: the costumes are more like sleek running gear’.
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
James Hall for the Telegraph wrote: ‘this version of Cats wisely focused on the dancing and the darkness. And so it should have. Because the big issue with Cats, and it’s sadly an intractable one, is its plot. Or, should I say, lack of it (…) So Cats relies on characterisation and choreography. Lots of it.’ And that’s what he got: ‘Standout performances came from Jaydon Vijn as a rock ‘n’ roll Rum Tum Tugger – all leather, tassels, tousles and attitude – and Elliot Broadfoot as the corpulent bon vivant Bustopher Jones’.
City AM‘s Adam Bloodworth commented: ‘It’s looser and more naturalistic than the pirouetting gang in the film, and thank goodness for that. The ensemble were presumably told “act like Cats!” rather than “do some ballet as a Cat!” and that was a great instruction indeed. After all, they are delicate, ingenious animals, and as you would with your own pet, you end up glued to watching these intuitive creatures prowl across Sami Fendall’s pleasingly minimalistic moon-shaped set.’
Louise Penn for Broadway World remarked on the appearance: ‘The set and lighting are excellent for the setting, although I still miss the rubbish dump and strings of coloured lights of old. Here the stage is dominated by a large metal structure that suggests the moon, and an industrial-style floor. The lighting is always a highlight in any Open Air Theatre production, and tonight was no exception, with warm glows, intriguing shadows, and flashes of pyrotechnics.’ She concluded: ‘The final verdict has to be that this is an accomplished production that is worth your time if you like dance, cats, or the score which remains one of Lloyd Webber’s best. At nearly 50 years since he first toyed with Old Possum, and 46 years since its first appearance as a song cycle at Sydmonton, Cats still has the claws, the purrs and the attitude.’
WhatsOnStage‘s Sarah Crompton liked ghe new approach: ‘The costumes are both stylised and cleverly textured; fake fur is used sparingly. The makeup is glittery and unreal. It’s all silkily performed.’ She noted: ‘things tend to proceed at a stately pace as the cats, in Sami Fendall’s design, assemble in sleek body suits and tails around a great bronze spiral where they can prowl and sit and pose as the action (what there is of it) unfolds. McOnie’s movement for the cats is sleek and balletically delicate; their bodies unfurl slowly, each motion from the tip of their fingers to the points of their feet, mimicking the way muscles run gently through real cats’ bodies, rippling beneath the skin.’
Donald Hutera for The Times said: ‘McOnie’s Cats is a triumph of staging — polished and fluid, with wall-to-wall choreography that at its best lifts the source material to a new level. A large, fiercely committed cast also do their utmost to mitigate the piece’s sometimes cringeworthy whimsicality, redeeming it after the disastrous 2019 film adaptation.’ He praised the cast: ‘it is the slithery, gymnastic actor-dancers inside and behind the fuzzy, sparkly garb and make-up that animate the action. They are an outstanding ensemble.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
The Guardian’s Arifa Akbar approved but with reservations: ‘These animals, directed and newly choreographed by Drew McOnie, are more balletic and graceful than those in the 1981 original and the production definitely reclaims the musical’s reputation from Tom Hooper’s film (…) they dance and dance and dance through the flimsy and patchwork story of “Jellicle cats”‘. The negative side to this was: ‘It results in some lovely expressive scenes but makes the structure even more disjointed, with less of a story to bind it.’ Add to which: ‘Some of the movement between cats has a slow, ritualistic quality which verges on corny and slows the pace considerably’.
’after the horrors of the film, this is a night of eccentric but undemanding fun’ said Time Out’s Andrjez Lukowski. He noted: ‘The biggest difference between the two incarnations of Cats probably lies in the choreography – high energy and aerobic in the original (by Gillian Lynne), sinuous and twitchy under McOnie.’ He found: ‘a lot of it is really quite good, especially in the second half when it’s dark and the set and lights look loads better. The ethereal, glittery ‘Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer’ section is lovely; stage vet Gary Wilmot is a treat as the doleful but slyly egotistical Gus the Theatre Cat; Dianté Lodge’s monstrous Macavity is a brimstone-whiffing treat and Jet Yau’s Magical Mister Mestophiles has both one of the best songs and a slightly gratuitous but extremely fun set of B-boy dance moves.’
This was the final view of The Independent‘s Alice Saville: ‘McOnie is all about the dancing, and exciting as the choreography often is here, he lacks the consistent vision to rein in this show’s daftness and make it make sense for new generations. As it is, your ability to enjoy this show depends on your tolerance for watching performers prance about in unitards, intoning absolute nonsense as though they’re imparting the deepest secrets of the universe. Things work better in the second act, after the sun sets – this musical is the kind of warped affair that should be conducted under the cover of darkness, and I mean that with the greatest of affection.’
Critics’ average rating 3.8⭑
Value Rating 48 (Average rating combined with typical ticket price)
With one exception, the main review outlets were between lukewarm and highly critical in their reaction to the Chaka Kahn bio-musical. It was universally agreed that the Queen of Funk has a great voice and an interesting life. They almost all concurred that the book (script) by Khan’s creative director Nia T. Hill let it down (‘gallops breathlessly along in the manner of a loosely fleshed-out Wikipedia entry’ Telegraph). Most liked Alexandra Burke‘s singing.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Christiana Rose, reviewing for BroadwayWorld, was a fan: ‘I’m Every Woman boasts an exceptionally talented cast whose extraordinary vocal performances consistently honour Chaka Khan’s remarkable catalogue. It offers an honest reflection of Chaka’s life, a raw look at the perils of addiction, an important exploration of the music industry’s darker realities, alongside an exploration of intimate partner violence, survival, resilience, female empowerment and reclaiming one’s voice.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
The Times’ Clive Davis noted: ‘Racky Plews, the director, oversees a production embellished with striking period detail (dig those funky Seventies Afros) but undermined by a script by Nia T Hill which drifts from one stilted scene to another.’ He ended: ‘Still, the music lifts the spirits. Burke is in commanding form on the vocals, and the songs from Khan’s years with funk band Rufus still shimmer.’
The Guardian’s global music critic Ammar Kalia disagreed about the singing. Hoping for Kahn’s ‘soaring, multioctave vocal range, he found ‘Burke plays Khan with an energetic youthfulness – but when it comes to vocals faces a sisyphean task. She makes a valiant effort of singalong hits like Ain’t Nobody and Tell Me Something Good, but lacks the resonance to replicate Khan’s power.:’ He wasn’t impressed by the way the ‘book by Khan’s own creative director, Nia T Hill (…) sprints through a remarkable girlhood and young adulthood’ in the first half.
2 stars ⭑⭑
Fiona Mountford reviewing for the Telegraph was damning: ‘Nia T Hill’s script gallops breathlessly along in the manner of a loosely fleshed-out Wikipedia entry, leaving no time for niceties such as characterisation.’ She conceded: ‘If the script is sappy, Burke’s voice is mercifully magnificent, although she could do with fewer distracting hand gestures.’
LondonTheatre’s Anya Ryan was disappointed with the book: ‘with each episode dispatched almost as quickly as it arrives – and all of it delivered through clunky, unnatural dialogue – we barely have a chance to feel it.’ She went on to say: ‘the production never quite decides what it wants to say. Is this a redemption arc for Khan? Does it simply give us a picture of her at each stage of her life? Or is it merely a way to shoehorn as many of her songs in as possible, however unconnected they may feel? Perhaps, trying too hard to be Every Woman means this show has no real identity at all.’
Tom Wicker for The Stage called it ‘heartfelt and well intentioned, but clumsy’. He opined: ‘Burke gives every song her all, turning the music into a deserved high point. But the show flies so wildly all over the place that ultimately, the courageous, talented and complex Khan is short-changed.’
WhatsOnStage’s Sarah Crompton thought Alexandra Burke ‘not only has a voice that rises to any occasion but also has a presence and an acting quality capable of transforming moments of a written-by-rote show into theatrical magic.’ Unfortunately: ‘The problem lies most of all in Nia T Hill’s script, which reduces Khan’s life to a series of clichés’. She continued: ‘it’s made worse by direction from Racky Plews that allows the portrayal of the musical figures Khan meets en route … to descend into a series of comic turns and bad wigs.’
Isobel Lewis reported for Time Out (2 stars assumed): ‘It is a messy, overly long piece of theatre, its script a bizarre mix of stilted scenes and strange song choices that squanders lead Alexandra Burke’s talent and does little to convince us of Chaka’s very real star power.’
1 star ⭑
The Standard’s Nick Curtis summarised: ‘The script (by Khan’s creative director Nia T. Hill) is bad. The projection-based designs are bad. The cartoonish cameo appearances by Stevie Wonder, Whitney Houston, Miles Davis and others are traducingly awful. The singing voices of a cast led by an extravagantly bewigged Alexandra Burke are pretty much the only saving grace, though the garish costumes are fun in a Wembley-hen-night kind of way.’
Critics’ average rating 2.4⭑
Value rating 26 (Combination of critics’ rating and typical ticket price)
I’m Every Woman can be seen at the Troubadour Wembley until 27 September 2026. Buy tickets directly from imeverywomanthemusical.com
If you’ve seen I’m Every Woman, please leave your review and/or rating below
Love’s Labour’s Lost at Shakespeare’s Globe. Photo: Tristram Kenton
Love’s Labour’s Lost is an early Shakepeare play seen as ‘ difficult’ because of its language and plot (‘It veers off into strange subplots, its dense wordplay is littered with Latin and elaborate puns, and that’s all before its famously unexpected, melancholy final scene arrives’ Time Out). Director Indiana Lown-Collins’ solution is to douse it in Flamenco and all things Spanish. With some reservations, the critics liked this idea (“Viva Espana’ WhatsOnStage), except for The Times (‘a crass dumbshow’).
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Debbie Gilpin for BroadwayWorld described how ‘The confessions of love take the form of sonnets or other poetry in the text, which in this production are set to the melodies of popular music by hispanic artists; the tunes of “Despacito”, “Livin’ La Vida Loca” and “Hips Don’t Lie” are quickly recognisable, and allow the original writing to be presented in a way which chimes with a modern audience. This creative approach is the best of both worlds.’ She praised the cast: ‘Ned Costello delivers an hilarious turn as the not-quite-sure-of-himself King of Navarre, full of bluster but often looking to his men for reassurance in his actions (…) Norah Lopez Holden is without doubt the star of the show. Not only is her portrayal of the Princess of Spain pitch-perfect, balancing humour with authority and emotion, but she also takes charge of the dancing at every opportunity’.
Mark Lawson for The Guardian decided: ‘this production is, within its concept, generally a joy.’
Reviewing for WhatsOnStage, Aliya Al-Hussan pointed out: ‘With only two professional flamenco dancers in the company (Pablo Egea and Anita La Maltesa), the whole cast has been put through a dance boot camp. And it shows: the movement reflecting the ardent expressiveness and romantic tensions. Lown-Collins effectively combines the rhythms of the music and language together, as percussive handclaps often punctuate the repartee.’ She concluded: ‘This is a hugely promising Globe debut from Lown-Collins, brimming with imagination and really evoking the soul of flamenco through Shakespeare. Viva España indeed.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
Dave Fargnoli of The Stage was reserved in his comments: ‘Stylish, sexy but strangely lacklustre, this shallow take on Shakespeare’s seldom-produced comedy feels overly laboured despite a vibrant design and the evident energy of its cast.’
The Telegraph‘s Dominic Cavendish was much more upbeat, calling it ‘a fun, warm, flamenco-soaked account of Love’s Labour’s Lost.’ He liked the way ‘The Iberian concept enlivens Shakespeare’s flimsy early romcom – in which the male court of Navarre rashly embarks on a scholastic retreat, swearing off women, only to be undone by visiting female royalty. The music and dance offset the wit and notoriously knotty word-play. The snag: scene-setting Spanish accents make some lines even more impenetrable.’
Julia Rank of LondonTheatre observed: ‘Lown-Collins’s production is steeped in dance, namely vivacious flamenco (choreographed by Carmen Igarza to music by Michael McMahon and Adrián Solá). The cast are all accomplished dancers, with the sequences led by flamenco professionals Pablo Egea and Anita La Maltesa (in blue and gold costumes matching the Globe’s pillars). If it is something of a gimmick, it is implemented with full commitment and performed with plenty of attack.’
Anya Ryan, popping up at Time Out, noted: ‘Traditionally, Love’s Labour’s Lost is one of Shakespeare’s trickiest plays to pull off, which is presumably why it hasn’t been staged that often (…) It veers off into strange subplots, its dense wordplay is littered with Latin and elaborate puns, and that’s all before its famously unexpected, melancholy final scene arrives and sends the audience home feeling blue. Lown-Collins’ production doesn’t really do much to combat these issues – the Latin is simply swapped for Spanish quips, and the ending is still the ending. But it’s rare that I’ve seen a Globe audience having so much fun.’
1 star ⭑
Kate Maltby, reviewing for The Times, didn’t have much fun. She called it ‘a crude cacophony of impenetrable Spanish accents, punctuated by groin thrusts and clumsy pratfalls, with nothing to say about love, learning or loss.’ She was disappointed: ‘There are melancholic themes to this play that could have been deftly explored in flamenco. Lopez Holden elevates anything she’s in, as does Philip Arditti, here playing Berowne, the king’s wittiest companion. But they are smothered under the worst kind of mummery. Shakespeare’s wordiest play becomes a crass dumbshow.‘
Cleansed was a shocker when it was premiered in 1998 and still is today. The main thing that has changed is writer Sarah Kane‘s reputation. In the 27 years since her death, she has come to be regarded as one of the great modern playwrights- but that doesn’t mean they all liked it. All these years later, most reviewers still found the scenes of torture hard to stomach. Many of the reviews listed in detail the full horror of her surreal play about humanity’s need for violence (and love), but, so as to avoid having to put a warning on this roundup, I give you What’sOnStage’s sanitised plot summary: ‘An assortment of young adults, their morale at various stages of broken, live under the tyrannous rule of the Tinker, a man who sniffs out any sign of hope, any moment of wholesomeness, and destroys it with violence.’ There was disagreement about whether the violence was gratuitous and whether director Rebecca Frecknall‘s modification of some of it into stylised movement helped. There was also criticism from some quarters of the play’s (deliberate) lack of coherence, although others saw this as indicative of a dream/nightmare. The cast were praised for their acting and their stamina.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
5 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑
The Telegraph’s Dominic Cavendish was in no doubt: ‘You emerge numb. Yet it grips completely – a must-see.’ He explained: ‘28 years on, it is clearly grappling with hard, enduring truths about human nature.’ He praised the director: ‘general, she grasps that despite the required gory spectacle, less is more. There’s a balletic quality to some of the movement, and, honouring Kane too, a marked stylisation to the brutalisation.’ He pointed out: ‘much as the piece manifests real-world harms, it also digs into psychological interiors; each of the misfit characters, even Tinker, is groping for love – which is twinned, in its absolutism, with pain. The show inculpates us as viewers, and holds a mirror up to our darkest selves.’ He said he ‘emerged chastened, even shocked, by Kane’s original flair and artistic integrity. Her work, exquisitely rendered, still makes most theatre look tame and uninspiring.’
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
The Guardian’s Arifa Akbar described how the ‘play interrogates the limits of theatre and representation in its extremity and breakdown of conventional form. Exposing the theatrical construction of violence, through various techniques, does little to protect us from the horror of observing it, and Frecknall oscillates masterfully between realism and a more poetic vein. When characters are in the furthest extremity of pain, their movements become a kind of expressive dance. There is lyricism in it but not so it beautifies violence. Importantly, it never seems gratuitous, either.’ She also noted: ‘There is sudden, immense beauty, declarations of love, romantic clinches and humour. Set alongside Kane’s brand of post-dramatic theatre, the play’s message is strangely romantic: the human need, maybe even demand, for love and for beauty persists, every bit as vital a force as violence’.
Miriam Sallon for WhatsOnStage felt challenged: ‘it’s not as simple as inflicted cruelty. Kane seems to be saying that nothing is good; no thought is pure.’ She commented: ‘Performances are faultless; deeply unsettling and heartrending in equal measure, except Leo Bill’s Tinker, who is only the former.’ she concluded: ‘it is unarguably powerful, an embittered, howling manifesto of a world unsalvageable.’
The Standard‘s Nick Curtis said it was ‘certainly a hard watch, but it impeccably done.’ He continued: ‘What the ever-impressive Frecknall shows is Kane’s empathy, her absolute command of atmosphere and tension on stage and her refusal to glamorise or soften the effect of cruelty.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
The Financial Times’ Sarah Hemming pointed out: ‘It’s still an incredibly tough watch, with the brutality stacked so thick that it becomes an ordeal. But that’s partly Kane’s point. She was tormented by the human capacity for both compassion and cruelty, by the atrocities of war and our ability to become desensitised to horror. Plays like Cleansed and Blasted confront how theatre, tasked with representing truth through artifice, might tackle this.’ She observed: ‘in the end, the piece is so extreme that it doesn’t land with the same force as, say, the blinding of Lear’.
Holly O’Mahony for LondonTheatre described how ‘Chris Fisher’s illusions make it all the more convincing too, while Angus MacRae’s soundscape of unnerving, rhythmic knocking, thudding, drilling and nondescript peace-shattering sounds ensure there’s no respite. In this hellscape, each member of Frecknall’s brave cast carries their character’s marathon of agony and humiliation with impressive stamina.’
Tim Bano at Time Out thought: ‘Its shortcomings are not because it’s a horrible play – it is, but theatre doesn’t always have to be enjoyable, and that horror is clearly in the service of something – but because it’s an imperfect production. Frecknall can’t seem to decide whether to show us the extremes, or to abstract them, and the result is only sometimes extraordinary, never quite living up to the version of the play that runs through your perplexed head when reading it.‘
Tom Wicker for The Stage described the set: ‘The play’s stage directions say that it’s set in a university, but that feels grimly ironic, as set designer Madeleine Girling’s grubbily nondescript slice of hallway and strip of a windowed room quickly break the boundaries of literalism to become a torture chamber of difference.’ He explained: ‘Frecknall doesn’t spare us the maiming but wisely pivots away from distracting prosthetics towards something more horrifically balletic (…) This still explicit but more abstracted approach to the physical relieves some of the pressure of the play’s reputation and allows a greater focus on Kane’s preoccupation with what love looks like under duress‘.
Alexander Cohen of BroadwayWorld explained the way the production has changed the effect of the play: ‘The prominence of movement modifies the emotional fulcrum from grotesque body horror deeper toward the ephemeral and fleeting love and longing underneath. This Cleansed speaks to an audience fluent in the language of mental health, rather than one accustomed to art that prides itself on shock value.’ He ended: ‘Without context to ground it, the violence will always feel overcooked, and the beauty on the other side of it unanchored and uneasy.’
The Independent‘s Alice Saville complimented the director’s approach: ‘Rebecca Frecknall’s production extends a sympathetic hand to nervous audiences. Blood is stored in sandwich bags before it anoints body parts: flaming paper is dropped immediately into a fire-proof bucket. These self-conscious, Brechtian touches combine with stylised movement sequences to create a production that holds Kane’s full horrors at arm’s length, without stinting on utter despair.’ She concluded: ‘This play is a brothel, a psychiatric institution, a torture chamber, a twisted party. But it’s also nowhere at all, and it’s that purgatorial abstraction that captures the utter hopelessness of her conviction that love burns you, then deserts you, leaving nothing but a pile of smouldering embers in a wasteland.’
1 star ⭑
The Times’ Clive Davis had no truck with it: ‘because there’s no depth or hinterland to any of these figures, it’s impossible to detect any logic to their plight as they are subjected to random acts of violence. Scratch away the veneer, and what’s left is a series of intense rehearsal room exercises, delivered with true professionalism, but in the end signifying nothing.’
(1 star assumed) The i’s Fiona Mountford, who had deliberately avoided Cleansed over the years, regretted her decision to finally give it a try: ‘Kane enthusiasts claim that the point of Cleansed is that love, somehow, still endures, but I would vehemently argue that this is not sufficient reason to subject yourself to this gruelling deluge.’
0 stars –
The Mail‘s Patrick Marmion seemed to have some appreciation of the play: ‘Cleansed often feels relentless and random; and yet if you’re willing to go with the infernal flow, it’s also a desperate, gruesome search for love and redemption’ but found it so gruesome that he felt he couldn’t award any stars ‘as I can’t honestly justify recommending it to anyone as a good night out’. An odd conclusion both because the 5 star system assumes ratings of one to five, in which 1 star means ‘avoid’, but also because ‘a good night out’ isn’t the only reason for seeing a theatre show. To add further to the confusion, he ended: ‘I agonised over whether to give it four stars (bear with me) on the strength of the acting.’
Ben Platt in Midnight at the Never Get. Photo: Johan Persson
Two gay men perform love songs at a secret nightclub in 1965. The critics were ecstatic about Ben Platt‘s singing as Trevor and Mark Sonnenblick‘s Cole Porter-style songs. Platt’s songwriting, piano-playing partner Arthur is played by Gregor Milne. Barry James also appears. David Cromer directs.
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Marianka Swain for the Telegraph introduced the show: ‘Life is a cabaret, old chum. That’s especially true for Trevor Copeland in Midnight at the Never Get, a singer at an illegal gay nightclub in mid-1960s New York, who expresses his forbidden love through defiant torch songs written by his paramour. It’s certainly an intriguing premise, but this bijou chamber musical has a huge additional draw: Trevor is played by Tony-winning American actor Ben Platt and, in the Menier Chocolate Factory’s intensely intimate production, audiences can experience his remarkable talent at close quarters.’
Kate Wyver at The Guardian described the scene: ‘With the Menier Chocolate Factory set up as a lamplit cabaret (set by Scott Pask), Platt is Trevor Copeland, a crooning bar-singer reliving the years he spent with songwriter Arthur Brightman, played with plate-spinning brilliance by Gregor Milne. The history of their love is told through stories shaped around American Songbook-style music, only occasionally syrupy, as the pair slip in and out of Sonnenblick’s inventions: now a jaunty knee-bouncing number; now a big-band ballad.’ ‘The draw for Midnight at the Never Get will inevitably be Platt, but there is more to this small gem of a show. Tender, funny, and thoughtful — the Menier has done it again.’
Writing for LondonTheatre, Aliya Al-Hussan described the star: ‘Sincere, self-effacing, with flashes of fragility and effervescent emotion, Platt connects with the audience from the moment he appears. Trevor brims with amusing quips and seemingly honest storytelling, which gradually crack to show inconsistencies and alternative narratives. Platt’s vibrato-tinged voice is perfectly suited to the material and it’s a joy to witness his talents from such close quarters.’
Theo Bosanquet at WhatsOnStage agreed: ‘This is a rare opportunity to see a singular talent at the top of his game giving full virtuoso flex to material that feels ripe with embryonic potential. And, although I found the protracted denouement a little too saccharine for my palate, there’s no question that when Platt and James blast out “My Song” with the defiance that only battle-scarred lovers can, it’s a moment you’ll be glad to say you saw.’
Clementine Scott at BroadwayWorld talked about: ‘The metatheatrical style of Midnight feels perfect for someone like Platt, who may be exceptionally talented and the most memorable musical theatre voice of his generation, but possesses a distinctive, vibrato-laden voice that can divide opinion. This is a show where he can play something of a caricature of an esoteric well-known performer, all while indulging his voice’s rich emotional potential and natural comic timing in Mark Sonnenblick’s songs. And what songs they are.’
Tom Wicker for Time Out also talked about songs: ‘The way in which Sonnenblick, partly through Trevor’s casual asides, creates in Arthur a fictional superstar of the great American songbook, is a delicious blurring of reality and theatrical invention. This is heightened by his score and lyrics, which are lushly evocative of Cole Porter. They feel like songs you almost remember. But as Arthur (initially) insists on keeping male pronouns in these classically framed love songs, they become – in one of the show’s strongest through-lines – a powerful social lens.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
Holly O’Mahony at The Stage thought: ‘At this production’s core is a gorgeously intimate show – one that bottles the feeling of finding a love who feels like your missing half, before pouring out the misery that comes with losing them. But Cromer’s production often loses us, too, as the story’s timeline jumps about. Significant reveals are played down emotionally, which might be part of Trevor’s act, but denies these moments the magnitude that musical theatre would typically afford them. It needs some finessing.’
The Standard‘s Nick Curtis commented on ‘the suggestion that Arthur’s commitment to his art leads him to sacrifice his emotional life and betray Trevor. I wonder with which character Sonnenblick, who wrote the music and the witty book and lyrics, most sympathises? Actually, I think I know. While Arthur bangs on about being an artist, he’s a sketchy, background character, apart from one ill-advised dance routine. This show is all about Trevor and therefore all about Platt.’
The Times’ Clive Davis commented: ‘It’s a lost world evoked in immaculate detail in David Cromer’s production: a bold, unconventional drama that doesn’t, in the end, pay quite as much attention to the inner lives of the two lovers, Trevor and Arthur, who eke out a living bringing their songs to audiences at a nightspot called the Never Get.’ He acknowledged: ‘Platt’s fans will surely enjoy the opportunity to hear him close-up. His heart-on-sleeve singing, topped by a delicate falsetto, is flawless. He captures too the inner desperation of a performer who is, we begin to realise, a less than reliable narrator.’
Is this the worst West End musical in the last 20 years?
Theatre Royal Haymarket
Trainspotting The Musical. Photo: Matt Crockett
The worst reviews in a long time greeted the musical version of the iconic film Trainspotting. Criticism splattered all elements from the writer Irvine Welsh, who also wrote the original novel (‘baggy’ Stage; ‘leaden and formulaic’ Standard), to the new songs written by Stephen McGuinness and Welsh (‘forgettable at best, or best forgotten’ Guardian), to the direction by Caroline Jay Ranger (‘stodgy’ Independent). There was one 4 star and one 3 star review, the rest being divided between 2 and 1 stars. The only musical this century that springs to mind as having reviews this bad is Oscar Wilde back in 2005.
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Arriving some time after the midweek reviews, Patrick Kidd for The Sunday Times took a contrary view: ‘ it works brilliantly. Welsh, who improbably admits in the programme to being a Lionel Bart fan, has taken the best elements of the original, added some of the prequel, Skagboys, then worked with Stephen McGuinness to create new songs that energetically drive the story on, with superb choreography and a fine young cast.’ Notably, he was an outlier when it came to the added songs. He declared: ‘New songs that especially hit the mark include The Eckies and the Brown, a country and western number that reflects the rush of colour that comes into the characters’ drab lives with every armful of junk, the jaunty Roll with the Punches and Renton and Sick Boy’s duet late in Act I.
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
The Times’ Clive Davis had reservations, but he discerned something the other critics missed: ‘there is unabashed energy to the performance and the new songs, co-written by Welsh and the dance music producer Stephen McGuinness, that just about keeps the evening aloft. True, it’s a rough-hewn venture that won’t appeal to musical theatre traditionalists. I went in fearing the worst, in all honesty, but this is a production that, even if it is never going to supplant the film, at least delivers moments of communal intensity.’
2 stars ⭑⭑
The Stage’s Sam Marlowe didn’t pull her punches: ‘the show is far more diffuse and meandering than either the film or the novel. Characters are thinly drawn in Welsh’s baggy book; it’s as if the story has been castrated, all its cynical, tough, jagged wit, all its fuck-you attitude lopped off. Instead, it’s ploddingly literal, often lapsing into mawkishness and soapy tedium – repeatedly ramming its social conscience down our throats, theatrically it’s almost in Blood Brothers territory, although it’s significantly less emotionally effective. And it suffers from a fatal lack of momentum – each time it starts to get going, another pointless song turns up to bring it grinding to a halt again.’
A ‘misguided muddle’ said Ben Lawrence for the Telegraph: ‘The incoherence of this production, at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, is best illustrated by its music. While the film’s famously killer soundtrack has, in part, been retained (Iggy Pop’s Lust for Life and Lou Reed’s Perfect Day both feature), it is diluted by a mixture of pop hits that weren’t in the film and, worst of all, a set of new songs which, with the exception of a jolly hoedown entitled C—s Run the Country, barely register. It is downright odd to see such cynical no-hopers as Renton (Lewis Kidd) and Sick Boy (Sheridan Townsley) going all jazz hands, and it undermines the power of Welsh’s characterisation.’
The Independent’s Alice Saville joined the fray, declaring: ‘it’s a depressing concoction, with misjudged songs and a plot as obscure as an addict’s mumblings.’ The director, she said, had ‘turned this kinetic, dizzying story into a stodgy museum piece.’
In the midst of the critical onslaught, Theo Bosanquet for LondonTheatre sounded almost mild in his criticism: ‘what results is a kind of hybrid jukebox show, one that at points almost feels like a 90s nostalgia fest, but makes an awkward vehicle for a bleak story of broken characters seeking highs against a backdrop of urban decline.’
1 star ⭑
The Standard‘s Nick Curtis gave it short shrift: ‘What’s that dull, sickening thud? Oh, it’s the sound of a dead horse being flogged.’ He explained: ‘It’s leaden and formulaic where the book was coruscatingly fragmentary, sermonising and expository where Danny Boyle’s 1996 film was darkly, hedonistically propulsive. Worse, it shackles emotively Pavlovian stalwart hits like Lust For Life, Perfect Day and Bitter Sweet Symphony to a ragbag of pub-rock novelty songs written by Welsh and Stephen McGuinness.’ He listed its many faults: ‘I could tell you how sketchy the set and the choreography are, how Welsh’s trademark sweariness and his “authentic” Scottish-English argot lapse here into pastiche. I could say that the characters, always boldly outlined, are here cartoonish.’
The Guardian‘s Arifa Akbar commented: ‘Sadly, the drug-addled escapades and illegal highs here look about as dangerous as a double-dose of Gaviscon.’ Sher ended: ‘Alongside the covers are songs written by Stephen McGuinness and Welsh which are forgettable at best, or best forgotten in the case of one with a country and western twang and another which sounds alarmingly like a riff on The Proclaimers. It’s strange to see these characters singing as they shoot up, or rage against the machine. “Would Renton really choose to return to this life,” you find yourself wondering. It all seems so tame and commercial for this bunch of anti-capitalists. A bad trip indeed.’
Alun Hood at WhatsOnStage called it: ‘an incoherent musical that achieves the dubious distinction of being simultaneously distasteful and deeply tedious.‘ He asked: ‘Who is this for? Enthusiasts of the original will find it tame, lovers of modern musicals will spot how poorly executed it is, and it’s far too sordid for most families. Ultimately it’s the ineptitude rather than the tricky subject matter that sinks Trainspotting The Musical. Choose life? Nah, choose to see something else.’
Holly O’Mahony popped up at Time Out with an assumed one star review: ‘the whole thing is mechanical and cringeworthy. Every time someone shoots up on stage, you worry they’ll break into song – and they do!’ Among her many blasts was: ‘It has about as much guts and vigour and channeling of sordid lived experiences as the average primary school play.’
Critics’ average rating 1.9⭑
Value rating 17 (critics’ rating divided by typical ticket price)
The composer of Rent died young but left behind many songs, 18 of which have been brought together by Jennifer Ashley Tepper in revue, directed by John Simpkins. Some critics didn’t like the lack of structure but all thought Larson was a genius.
[Links to full reviews are included but a number are behind paywalls and therefore may not be accessible]
4 stars ⭑⭑⭑⭑
Anya Ryan of LondonTheatre reported: ‘Performed by a cast of five in a setting that initially evokes an East Village bar, the actors take turns stepping into the spotlight. Natalie Kassanga has a voice like silk‘. She liked the structure: ‘With the numbers largely removed from their original contexts, the music flows with only minimal interruption (…) Larson is presented in fragments, and while we might not get a complete picture of his musicals or of the man himself, his glorious, scrappy songs are more than enough to feed our souls.’
Paul Vale for The Stage described it as ‘a fascinating dissection of the composer’s journey, exploring themes and styles. There’s no formal story, but a distinct clarity of focus and a sense that Larson was baring his soul through his music (…) The Jonathan Larson Project might be a mixed bag, but it profoundly illustrates the genius of a talent lost. Simpkins’ production projects that talent, delivering a fun, diverse anthology with invention and flair.
Chris Wiegand for The Guardian wasn’t so sure about the concept: ‘Finding cohesion in songs from different projects is challenging without imposing a theme or storyline’ but he noted: ‘When the world is falling apart, playing the piano can “save my soul”, writes a 23-year-old Larson. Not only does he get away with such a sentiment but there’s an equivalent effect from hearing the night’s best songs. A revelation.’
3 stars ⭑⭑⭑
Clementine Scott for BroadwayWorld noted: ‘there is more than a hint of Rent in John Simpkins’s direction and Nate Bertone ‘s production design for this song cycle’. She disagreed with Anya Ryan about tge structure: ‘Without any narrative to tie these disparate songs together, Larson’s gift for crafting character through song gets lost in the weeds.’ She concluded that it was ‘a great deep dive into what made the young Larson tick, for diehard fans or as an introduction to his work, but these songs deserve a bit of narrative structure.’
For WhatsOnStage’s Sarah Crompton: ‘The problem with the show, curated with love and dedication by Jennifer Ashley Tepper, who trawled through Larson’s archives to find the songs, is that it treats all this treasure trove with equal reverence, when some of the songs are clearly written by a man learning his craft and others – such as the magnificently crazed “Hosing the Furniture”, in which a woman loses her mind while keeping her house clean – are works of near genius.‘
Donald Hutera for the Times described it as ‘a variably effective but always heartfelt showcase of Larson’s wide-ranging, emotionally complex style and interests. It may not be revelatory, and occasionally it pushes too hard, but it is an often fascinating excavation of a gifted, influential artist’s process that reminds us of what was and what might have been.’
Critics’ average rating 3.5⭑
The Jonathan Larson Project can be seen at Southwark Playhouse Borough until 22 August. Buy tickets directly from the theatre southwarkplayhouse.co.uk
If you’ve seen The Jonathan Larson Project, please leave a review and/or rating below
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