Category: Review

Longer versions of reviews featured on the YouTube channel  and podcast One Minute Theatre Reviews, mainly London shows and selected regional and touring productions

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Theatre review: Conversations After Sex

Raw emotions in a play about loss

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A woman and a man in conversation sitting on a bed
Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

Mark O’Halloran’s Conversations After Sex is about a woman throwing herself into 12 months of casual anonymous sex. Having won the Irish Times Best New Play Award, it is receiving its UK premiere at the Park90 Theatre. The intimate venue is ideal for watching such private conversations. The set is essentially a bed with a small amount of space around it, and the audience closing in on three sides.

There are something like twenty short scenes in which the character referred to as ‘She’ and played by Olivia Lindsay has just had casual sex and then chats with the man in question. Sometimes he is a returning lover, although even then they don’t know each other’s names; more often he’s a passing acquaintance. All are played by Julian Moore-Cook. There are occasional scenes, just as brief, between ‘She’ and her sister played by Jo Herbert.

It seems ‘She’ has engaged upon a series of one night stands after a traumatic event involving her partner, about which more is gradually revealed in the course of the play. The meaningless sex is a kind of self therapy, both a distraction and a way of moving on. I doubt it’s a form of therapy any counsellor would recommend but, over twelve months, she does reach some kind of understanding.

Despite the conversations being post-coital, they are rarely about sex. Nor do we see the sex that preceded them. We join them at the moment when the participants’ defences are down, thanks to both the anonymity of the liaison and the abandonment involved in sex. So, the men are inclined to be more honest than they might otherwise be, when they have an image to project and protect.

Julian Moore-Cook conveys the multiple male characters with great skill. Without the aid of costume changes, he goes from puppyish young man to emotional jilted boyfriend to self confident cheat. His face is a valuable tool that he manipulates through boyish smile to bewilderment to jutting pride.

Olivia Lindsay and Julian Moore-Cook in Conversations After Sex. Photo: Jake Bush

The men tell tales of their adventures- one has had sex with half his neighbours, although he qualifies this by saying he lives in a cul-de-sac. They talk about their betrayals, like the one who gave his girlfriend chlamydia. They get upset about having been criticised. They rarely show self awareness as they reveal their self absorption. It is certainly an insight into the male psyche.

‘She’ seems glad of the company, and amuses herself (and us) with ironic comments. Some of her more serious remarks suggest she is looking for more than escape: ‘you remind me of someone,’ she says, as if these representatives of the male sex might offer a key to understanding her former lover.

Olivia Lindsay has a great way with an arched eyebrow and wry smile.  Every so often, something triggers ‘She’ to remember her pain and her own emotions spill out. Again Ms Lindsay conveys these bursts of sadness with great feeling.

Revealing portraits & questionable nudity

I can’t say whether this is an accurate portrayal of the world of casual sex but, in the confined space of this play, these sad, amusing and occasionally angry encounters come across as believable. The dialogue and structure are well nigh perfect. Although much of the conversation is on the level of a chat, every so often the men, stripped of their defences, reveal grief over the death of parents or departure of lovers. What emerges clearly is that the real theme of the play is loss. Even the Sister is experiencing a loss.

Despite their tears, the men don’t impress us.  This is partly because they seem peripheral, but also because they are portrayed as so narcissistic. By contrast, the ever present woman’s raw emotions as she navigates her grief touch your heart. The production is tightly directed by Jess Edwards, with splendid performances by all the cast.

But I have to question the use of nudity in this production. Nakedness on stage can be gratuitous, but in this case it is an important element of the story. The author’s intention in the script was that both main characters should start off naked. They soon get dressed, at least into their underwear, and remain so for the rest of the play, but I think this starting point is important because it symbolises the vulnerability of the characters in this situation, and reinforces why they are so honest about their thoughts and feelings. However, in this production, while Julian Moore-Cook is first seen completely naked, Olivia Lindsay is not.

I don’t know whose decision that was, and I’m not saying it ruined the production, but I do think it was a mistake, because the difference in the two characters’ first appearance created a misleading dynamic between them, suggesting only the man’s defences were down, which is far from the case.

Nevertheless Conversations After Sex is a fine piece of writing in a strong production and I would urge you to get to the Park Theatre and treat yourself to this little gem before it closes.

Conversations After Sex can be seen at the Park Theatre until 17 May 2025. Click here to buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul was given a review ticket by the venue.

Watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

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Theatre review: The Government Inspector at Chichester

Satire on corrupt officialdom is a splendid farce


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Tom Rosenthal and Lloyd Hutchinson in The Government Inspector. Photo: Ellie-Kurttz

Chichester Festival Theatre has pulled out all the stops for the launch of its 2025 season: a legendary director, a complex set, and a stage filling cast, plus three musicians as a bonus. In the end, this production of The Government Inspector turns out to be slightly less than the sum of its parts, it’s not for want of trying, and I thoroughly recommend it if you’re looking for a good night out. This satire on government corruption is still relevant, and there’s a moment of physical comedy that anyone who sees it will never forget .

Gogol’s The Government Inspector is a copper bottomed classic, revolutionary when it was written nearly two hundred years ago and still an enjoyable satire on corrupt local officials. Constant revivals and more contemporary plays inspired by it – Accidental Death of an Anarchist springs to mind- may have blunted its sharpness but its depiction of politicians’ greed, bullying and cowardice still strikes a chord. And no wonder in an era of the Covid scandals and a US President who humiliates and attacks his closest allies.

This production is helped by a febrile new translation by Phil Porter, but most of all by the decision of former RSC Artistic Director Gregory Doran to turn up the physical comedy to boiling point.

Some of the slapstick had me in stitches: there’s an extraordinary moment when someone falls through a roof and crashes onto a bed, which I still can’t believe happened. In fact I was too shocked to laugh straightaway. On another occasion, a character feels ‘weak at the knees’ and then walks as if his legs are made of rubber

The story is pretty simple. There’s a report that a Government Inspector is due to visit a town full of corrupt officials. A con man called Khlestakov is mistaken for the investigator and the frightened civic chiefs try to mollify him with flattery and bribes. The truth is eventually revealed but by then he has squeezed a fortune out of them and gone on his way.

All the characters are caricatures and none have any redeeming features:  in fact, the longer the play goes on, the more nasty they are revealed to be. Even the fake inspector, while he  might be a hero for exposing and humiliating the officials, is no better than them in his unpleasantness to everyone around him. His arrogance and general amorality is offset by his confidence and charm which are perfectly portrayed by an imperious, smiling Tom Rosenthal.

Leading the duped is The Mayor, a bustling little man and a classic bully, condescending and sometimes vicious to those below him, obsequious to those he considers his superiors. You can feel the mounting frustration and fear in Lloyd Hutchinson’s portrayal.

The Judge, an unashamed womaniser proud to take bribes, is a huge man, played by Joe Dixon with northern bluntness and silly walks.  Christopher Middleton as the Head of Schools is a wide-eyed nervous wreck. Oscar Pearce is The Charity Commissioner who is the most self serving and disloyal of all, and that’s saying something given the competition. 

Comedy heights

Bobchinsky and Dobchinsky could be straight out of Munchkinland- Tweedledum and Tweedledee might be another way of looking at them. They are on the outside of the corrupt group, trying to get in. Wearing almost identical dapper suits, these social climbers are constant rivals in their desperation to impress. Played by Miltos Yerolemou and Paul Rider, they provide the best verbal and physical comedy as well as the only moment of poignancy in the entire play, when they reveal to the fake inspector their chronic need for social status.

The Mayor’s wife is a familiar character from comedy down the ages.  Think Mrs Bennet or Sybil Fawlty, and any number of other ambitious middle class snobs. Sylvestra Le Touzel wrings plenty of laughs out of this stereotype. Her daughter, who is both subservient and a rival to her mother, is given a nicely judged performance by Laurie Ogden. Both are pursued by the indiscrimately libidinous Khlestakov.

Assisting him is another trope- the kind of clever, resourceful, put-upon servant that must have been a cliche even two centuries ago, but Nick Haverson throws himself into the role as if it was a fresh idea.

And that’s just half the cast.

The Government Inspector. Photo: Ellie-Kurttz

In what seems like a rarity these days, this classic is set in the original time and place- Russia in the early 19th century. This endows distance and means you can draw your own parallels with any government anywhere any time. Better still, it allows for some colourful  period costumes from designer Francis O’Connor, including the musicians playing between acts in what looks like traditional Russian folk dress. He also provides a surreal set that uses filing cabinet drawers overflowing with papers not only as part of the walls but also along the apron of the thrust stage. The effect is of chaotic bureaucracy bursting out of an old fashioned office.

The slapstick reduces in the second act as we discover the true barbarity of these comic characters, which frankly isn’t funny, but there is still time for an hilarious climactic fight involving almost all the cast. Congratulations, Movement Director Mike Ashcroft.

There may not be quite as many laughs as the opening scenes promise, nor is there a single twist you didn’t see coming but The Government Inspector at Chichester is still a a lot of fun, and as shockingly relevant today as it has ever been. Seeing those terrible politicians getting their comeuppance is worth the price of the ticket alone.

The Government Inspector can be seen at Chichester Festival Theatre until 24 May 2025. Click here to buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Click to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

 

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Theatre review: The Brightening Air with Chris O’Dowd and Rosie Sheehy

Outstanding acting as dreams are crushed


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The Brightening Air at The Old Vic

Is The Brightening Air a comedy with a serious message or a drama with humour? Either way, it’s great entertainment showcasing outstanding acting.

If you’re thinking that a mixture of comedy and profundity sounds a bit Chekhovian, you’re right. Indeed, if you’re familiar Chekhov’s Uncle Vanya- and the playwright Conor McPherson certainly is, having directed a memorable production- you may recognise elements of the plot about a dysfunctional family stuck in the past that is forced to confront change by the arrival of a relative.

A mature brother and sister live in a run-down Irish farm in the 80s. Stephen is a failure as a businessman, Billie is unreliable due to what I take to be autism. With them, almost a lodger, is their sister-in-law Lydia, still in love with their long departed brother Dermot.

He is a successful owner of cafes, a business so perfect as a symbol  of the rise of individualised consumerism. His arrival at the farm with a much younger girlfriend Freya in tow, sets off a chain of events that blows apart all the characters’ dreams and self delusions.

There is one other significant arrival, back from the outside world as it were. Uncle Pierre, their father’s brother, is a blind priest, relying on Elizabeth, his housekeeper, companion and a little more besides, who needs a man she can control as much as he needs her care.

Billie is gifted with much insight but is not taken seriously because her autism causes her to shout and go off at tangents, like reciting the details of railway timetables. Rosie Sheehy, after her sensational starring role in Machinal, once again shows her greatness as an actor who can inhabit extreme emotions. For all the strong qualities of the other actors, it is her you can’t take your eyes off.

Stephen, played by Brian Gleeson, is depressed, lamenting his failure both at business and love. Also living in the past is Lydia, forever hoping that Dermot will return to her.

Dermot is cringingly sleazy. Chris O’Dowd is on top form as a self-centred alpha male. Not only has he abandoned the family farm to his younger sublings, he has no ability to commit to relationships, and chases after young women. How old is this one? ‘In her twenties, well twenty… next birthday.’

Since it is the 1980s when Ireland, once a backwater on the western edge of Europe is becoming the Celtic tiger, Dermot could be seen as representative of the booming economy and its detrimental effect on a traditional way of life.

Other members of this superb cast are Derbhie Crotty as the scheming passive-aggressive Elizabeth, Aisling Kearns as a wide-eyed Freya and Eimhin Fitzgerald Doherty as the young exploited farmworker Brendan.

The design by Rae Smith occupies every inch of the huge Old Vic stage. Although a shimmering grey curtain appears every so often at the back, the action is entirely downstage in one perfectly realised room of the farmhouse. I think this might signify the vastness of the world surrounding this small community but for me it had an alienating effect. I suspect the play would work even better if it was done in a more intimate set and auditorium.

After the interval, a metaphorical bomb explodes. I won’t spoil the plot but, suffice to say, all the characters’ lives are turned upside down. All three siblings are forced to reassess their situations and Father Pierre has an experience that’s the polar opposite to St Paul on the road to Damascus. In a tremendous monologue he explains God is a psychopath and that he will lead a new religion. His transformation is one of the highlights of this eventful play, although maybe he doesn’t change that much.

Exquisite comic timing

Rosie Sheehy in The Brightening Air. Photo: Manuel Harlan

There may be a message here, particularly relevant in a country that was dominated by the Catholic Church until this point in time, that there are always people willing to exploit others’ spiritual needs. Played with exquisite comic timing by Seán McGinley, Pierre’s behaviour to others is both hilarious and chilling. I should say, there are several moments in this play where a character’s needs are shaped or satisfied by their belief in mysticism or magic, including for example whether drinking certain water can make someone fall in love

So the characters’ dreams are crushed. The phrase ‘the brightening air’ is from a poem by WB Yeats and refers to the moment dreams meet reality. Another line from the great Irish poet springs to mind: ‘Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world’.

The play nears its end with another terrific monologue, this time from Billie, talking about the destructive nature of change, and the need for deep loving relationships. ‘In each other, we saw the face of God’ she says, and points out ‘how much of living is really just forgetting’.

Along with the laughs, there’s a lot to think about in this play, maybe a little too much, but It’s a fine piece of writing and wonderfully acted.

The Brightening Air can be seen at The Old Vic Theatre until 14 June 2025.

Paul was given a review ticket by the theatre

Click her to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre reviews With Paul Seven

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Theatre review: Much Ado About Nothing – RSC

Freema Agyeman scores in football-themed Shakespeare


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Freema Agyeman & Nick Blood in Much Ado About Nothing. Photo: Marc Brenner

Dear England is playing at the National Theatre, and now our second most subsidised theatre, the Royal Shakespeare Company, has a football themed play as well. But did Much Ado About Nothing score or was it a load of balls? And did Freema Agyeman from Doctor Who and New Amsterdam, and Nick Blood from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D as Beatrice and Benedick hit the back of the net?

First of all, spoiler alert, I will be talking about the plot of Much Ado About Nothing. You won’t be surprised that this production doesn’t set Much Ado About Nothing is set in modern times. Some people object to reimagining Shakespeare’s plays in other times and places. Personally, I find it can offer helpful insights, and this particular Shakespeare play needs them. Let me explain.

There are two parallel love stories in Much Ado About Nothing- a comic one which is probably what makes it one of the most popular of Shakespeare’s comedies, and a serious plot which can be a problem for a modern audience to comprehend.

Let’s look at the light-hearted element first- the relationship between Benedick and Beatrice, two people who are wary of hitching themselves to a partner. So, in all the time they’ve spent avoiding marriage, they’re become quite mature, and able to present a front of cutting cynicism. Shakespeare leaves no doubt there is something in each of them that is attractive to the other, except they won’t admit it, and they cover this by insulting each other. So the fun is in the way they’re eventually tricked by their friends into admitting that they do love one another, and then how love changes them. Benedick finds himself having to choose between his love and his comrade.

Freema Agyeman has only recently returned to theatre after a long spell acting on American TV but she is already building a reputation as a stage actor, and this performance will undoubtedly cement it. She speaks the lines beautifully. Her Beatrice gives as good as she gets, and offers apparent confidence to mask her inner emotions.

Nick Blood is a likeable Benedick with an appropriate swagger. However they don’t bounce off one another as much as you might hope: They should be like two Premiership footballers repeatedly tackling each another. Instead their dexterous verbal sparring never goes beyond a Sunday morning kickabout.

The darker plot concerns a young couple called Hero and Claudio- and it’s a can of worms, because it conjures a highly misogynistic society, which is hard to relate to, even though Shakespeare exposes the sexism among the men, and the unfair treatment of women.
We meet a veteran footballer Don John who’s essentially a mischief maker, someone who has no clear reason for causing trouble, and no complexity or depth. This makes him less interesting than many of Shakespeare’s villains, who are given motives or redeeming qualities. To be fair, this production does suggest that he’s jealous of his young rival Claudio, but that’s not pursued. Nojan Khazai plays him with an alpha male charm.
Don John uses deception- and this is a play that involves a lot of chicanery- to ensure that the relationship between two young fiancées- is torn apart on the eve of their wedding. 
He does this by tricking Claudio into believing Hero, far from being faithful, has a lover. As an audience, we find it hard to believe Claudio, even as a credulous young footballer (they’re not always renowned for their intellect) and her father, who both profess to love her, have so little faith in her. Even more unlikely is the moment when all is revealed (after even more trickery): he says ‘sorry’, she forgives him.
Daniel Adeosun gives a solid performance in the thankless role of Claudio. Eleanor Worthington-Cox does an excellent job as Hero. another difficult part as she is presented for much of the play as a voiceless victim- she doesn’t even defend herself against the false accusations. She does show a lively disposition in earlier scenes, where she is given more to do than in the original Shakespeare with some added songs, and at the end is given some added ambition.

Shoots but doesn’t score

It’s hard for a modern audience to comprehend such a misogynistic, male dominated society. So that’s the problem directors face: to find a modern parallel that we can relate to.  Michael Longhurst, fresh from his Shakespearean success with the David Tennant/Cush Jumbo Macbeth, has chosen the world of elite men’s soccer as the setting- not the English Premiership which surely is a league of gentlemen after Gareth Southgate’s tenure as England manager (I know because I’ve seen Dear England.) No, Italian football.
After all, Shakespeare’s play is set in Messina and perhaps the men’s behaviour fits, no doubt unfairly, with our stereotypical image of a certain kind of Italian male. Leonato, the owner of Messina FC, is the spitting image of Sylvio Berlusconi which usefully reminds us of his Bunga Bunga parties, one of which seems to be taking place on stage. It’s a fine characterisation of a self-centredh millionaire by Peter Forbes.
We can see that the position of women in this world is mainly as trophy wives and girlfriends. Beatrice is not one of them. She is an ex-footballer turned commentator, and we don’t need reminding of very recent occasions when misogyny was displayed against female football commentators.
So setting the play in the world of football is a good concept, and it works well initially. Unfortunately it never quite hits the back of the net, because as the play progresses, the football becomes less and less in evidence, and less convincing as the plot darkens.
Much Ado About Nothing. Photo: Marc Brenner

When you first enter the auditorium, you see what appears to be a stadium stretching into the distance. Thus far a triumph for designer Jon Bausor. However, the thrust part of the stage is dominated by a communal bath. Unfortunately this doesn’t work as well as you might hope. It’s used to comic effect on a few occasions but otherwise tends to get in the way of the cast moving round the stage.

The women are objectified and verbally abused by the men, the paparazzi and in comments on social media which are flashed up on the auditorium walls. So, quite a lot of misogyny going on there- with manipulated photos and fake news offering trickery that Don John could be proud of.
The actors playing the footballers are all physically fit, so they look like they could be soccer heroes, and the women are all very glamorous and could be wags. They give decent performances, speaking the words well, as you would hope from the RSC, and creating a world of casual offensiveness and sexist banter that comes naturally out of Shakespeare’s prose. What’s missing is a certain nastiness that the text demands; it’s as if they are passing the ball rather shooting at the goal.
The Watch- here seen as security staff- who inadvertently discover the truth of Don John’s plot are sometimes cut from the play. A lot of people seem to find their antics unfunny, but here Antonio Magro makes an excellent Dogberry, speaking his malapropisms with a dignified , obsequious demeanour.
I do have one quibble. Let me ask you a question. What do you enjoy most about Shakespeare? 
 I suspect that no matter how interesting the interpretation is, and how well it’s acted, at the end of the day, we’re going because we love Shakespeare’s language. Because, while he may steal his plots from here, there and everywhere, when he interprets that story for us, he has such an understanding of human nature, that he creates complex, interesting characters who express themselves through the most wonderful poetic language which conveys to us all the emotions that they feel and makes us feel them too. 
 And who might you think would protect that language more than the Royal Shakespeare Company?
So, I felt let down that this production of Much Ado About Nothing messed with Shakespeare’s language. Okay, not in a huge way, but to actually change some of the words for modern references and expressions, for example, bringing the word “twerking’ or ‘vaping’ into the text. 
I just feel it was plain wrong. I know it may sound stuffy and reactionary, and some will say, you’ve got to bring Shakespeare up to date for a modern audience and so on. But there are plenty of ways of doing that through the interpretation. The words are our one actual connection with Shakespeare, and why you shouldn’t mess with them, RSC!
As the final whistle blew, I felt the fun wasn’t fun enough, and the serious stuff not serious enough.
Much Ado About Nothing can be seen at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon until 24 May 2025. Buy tickets direct.
Paul paid for his ticket
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Theatre review: Backstroke with Tamsin Greig & Celia Imrie – Donmar Warehouse

Debut play prises open mother-daughter relationship

★★★★

Amiddle-aged woman and an old woman sit opposite each other at a kitchen table
Tamsin Greig & Celia Imrie in Backstroke. Photo: Johan Persson

Backstroke is a debut play receiving its premiere at the Donmar Warehouse. It’s about a daughter remembering and reassessing her relationship with her dying mother. And when this particular mother and daughter are played by Celia Imrie and Tamsin Greig, you know you’re in for a treat.

It’s not a usual occurrence to have your first play premiered at the Donmar Warehouse with Tamsin Greig and Celia Imrie as the stars. Then again, Anna Mackmin is not your usual playwright. She is steeped in theatre. Having been to acting school, she became a director and for the last twenty years has been behind some of the most memorable productions on the London stage, including Dancing At Lughnasa, The Real Thing and Hedda Gabler at the Old Vic, and Di and Viv and Rose and The Divine Mrs S at Hampstead. And who better to direct her first play than Anna Mackmin herself?

This is not her first piece of writing. Her 2018 novel Devoured, inspired by her childhood with a hippy mother, was well received. So, perhaps the first thing to say about Backstroke is that it is a beautifully written drama. It uses the stage well, it gives the actors plenty to get their teeth into, and it tells a good story as it prises open the oyster of their relationship to reveal the unexpected pearl within.

We first encounter Beth, played by Celia Imrie, in a hospital bed, symbolically at the highest, most central point of Lez Brotherston’s set. She is being visited by her daughter Bo, played by Tamsin Greig. After about ten minutes of Bo talking to her silent mother, who has had a stroke, and to the various medical staff, I began to think ‘Celia Imrie’s got an easy role’. Then we got into the nitty gritty of the drama.

Triggered by the possibly imminent death of her mother, Bo’s thoughts travel to the past. As they do, Celia Imrie slides out of bed and walks down to the front of the thrust stage, into the kitchen where so many encounters between them took place over the years. We begin to learn about the tempestuous relationship between a mother who is very needy and a daughter who is expected to cater for those needs. There is love, there is attachment, and there is conflict as the play gradually unravels their complex ties.

No mothers are perfect but Beth is self-centred, avoids intimacy, and doesn’t really want to acknowledge that she is her child’s mother (‘don’t call me mummy’) even though this would-be free spirit needs the stability and companionship of her daughter. We experience Bo’s frustration when, for example, Beth hasn’t woken her, as promised, and she will be late for her first day at college. Then we, along with Bo, realise that it’s because she doesn’t want to part with her.

Parallel to this, Bo is tied up with the challenge of being a mother herself to an adopted daughter who is finding it difficult to settle into family and school. So, she is attempting to balance the needs of her daughter, her career and her dying mother. Beth, by the way, is hundreds of miles away, which means Bo has the guilt of not being able to visit often enough, and the guilt of being away from her daughter. A feeling which I’m sure will be familiar to many in the audience.

Uplifting and heartbreaking

Part of the power of this play is Anna Mackmin’s ability to take you inside the heads of these characters. Celia Imrie’s larger-than-life Beth talks in florid language that has the effect of creating a shield to keep her daughter at bay, but often there is a look of fear behind her eyes. Tamsin Greig’s Bo develops from childhood to middle age, her enthusiasm gradually dampened, her youthful protest turning to a whine. But always there is a nervous need to understand what’s going on in her mother’s brain. She frequently pauses to process events. Used to feeling frustrated, she is almost permanently open-mouthed, but has a warm smile that refutes her inherited dislike of the intimacy of touching.

Backstroke at the Donmar. Photo: Johan Persson

All the while, fragments of Bo’s memories of both her mother and daughter play on a large backdrop. I’m not normally a fan of mixing film with live drama but in this case the video designed by Gino Ricardo Green is highly effective in showing how memories are always with us and shape who we are.

When Beth’s brain starts to be affected by dementia, although some of the things she says are humorous, like ‘You’ve made your bed, now you can lie about it’, Bo, and we, soften in our feelings about her. Beth has never been able to help being the way she is.

The first act is a little too long but after the interval the play explodes into life. We learn that the relationship was not as one-sided as it first appeared. The episodes in their life together show us how the bond is mutual, and how Bo has much to be grateful to her mother for. When they dance together, choreographed incidentally by Anna Mackmin’s sister Scarlett, it is a joyous moment.

The ending is both uplifting and heartbreaking, as the most intimate moment between them when Bo was a child is resurrected in Beth’s last moments. A circle has been completed and, in an epilogue, Bo speaks movingly of what her late mother did for her. Tamsin Greig’s emotional delivery brought a lump to my throat.

Although her mother’s mortality is what prompts Bo’s memories of her, the play also touches on the process of dying itself. There is consideration of how we treat people at the end of life. The hospital staff shows us three approaches to patients who to them have no history, and, more to the point, no memory: there is the objective indifference of Georgina Rich‘s matter-of-fact doctor to whom Beth is just another unit; a nurse Carol, given a terrific sour-mouthed performance by Lucy Briers, who tries to impose her own moral agenda on the treatment; and there’s nurse Jill, convincingly played by Anita Reynolds, who reveals the heart beneath her patronising chirpiness. Inevitably, the mainly absent Beth is frustrated that the staff don’t understand her mother’s care needs in the way she does.

This is an extraordinarily good debut play.

Backstroke can be seen at the Donmar Warehouse until 12 April 2025. Buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul attended a preview and paid for his ticket.

Click here to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

 

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Theatre review: Unicorn with Nicola Walker, Stephen Mangan & Erin Doherty

Two plus one equals a challenging comedy


★★★★

Stephen Mangan, Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner

Unicorn is about a middle-aged couple played by Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan who are attracted to the idea of introducing a third person into their relationship- in the form of a younger woman played by Erin Doherty.

This makes it a difficult play to review. Not because of some of the language- although that’s a problem too- but because so much of the play is about whether they will or won’t go ahead. I’ll do my best to talk about this adventurous comedy without giving away any spoilers.

Here are some things I can tell you about Unicorn. It’s funny, although the light-heartedness does give way to something deeper in the second half. I can also tell you it’s about emotional relationships rather than a simple threesome (if indeed a threesome is ever simple). And, even if it is about more than physical gratification, there is nevertheless much frank- and indeed filthy- talk about sex.

Having said that, if you were hoping to see these beloved stars in the buff, or were perhaps dreading the embarrassment of seeing bits of them that are normally covered up, there are no depictions of sex. They don’t even undress, well, Nicola Walker does take her shoes off. Frankly, it’s shocking enough to hear Nicola Walker and Stephen Mangan talking about sex in explicit four letter words- yes, even that word- without them actually doing it.

Our middle-aged couple still say they love one another but wonder if a third person might spice things up their sex life. Fortunately Polly, played by Nicola Walker at her most hesitant and nervously sensual, is a lecturer, and one of her mature but much younger than her students has the hots for her. And she feels the same.

Normally, if that’s the right word in this unusual situation, it’s difficult to find a young woman who wants a relationship with an older couple. (I’m not saying this from personal experience- it’s what we’re told in the play.) As rare as a unicorn, in fact. But fortunately, Kate, played by Erin Doherty, is interested, and so the story begins. The very word ‘unicorn’ may suggest a fantasy but we go with it because this is a scintillating script by Mike Bartlett, and these three actors, under James Macdonald’s direction, know exactly what to do with it.  Their comic timing is exquisite.

Erin Doherty nails the younger woman: frank, matter-of-fact and with a clear picture of what she wants. She talks loud and without hesitation. The generational gap is portrayed well. Stephen Mangan as Nick is especially good as an older man tying himself in knots as he tries to contain what he fears is stereotypical masculinity. He and Nicola Walker capture that respectful tone of the woke London middle class who are aware they shouldn’t offend or take risks, so beat about the bush and constantly retreat from what they really want.  ‘It’s entirely possible that on some level this is inappropriate,’ says Polly to Kate. Even when they kiss, all three contain any passion they might feel in favour of conversation.

So we journey through the first half continuing a will-they-won’t-they situation. At this point, I think I can add something to my plot summary. It might be a spoiler but I doubt you imagine this prevarication, funny as it is, could possibly continue for over two hours. In the second half, they do get together, but only after some significant turning points in all their lives.  We find that 30 year old Kate is increasingly the driving force in the potential three-way relationship, and we realise why. She comes to represent not only hope for the throuple but also a wider hope for humanity.

Nicola Walker & Erin Doherty in Unicorn. Photo: Marc Brenner

As we move into the dynamics of the menage-a-trois, and its ups and downs (no innuendo intended), the humour subsides a little in favour of more philosophical conversations. To summarise: we live in dangerous times, when the world and our bodies are threatened by pollution. We’re brought up on Disney happy-ever-after movies and bicycles made for two. So our primary choice of heteronormative coupling is tied up with this failed society. A willingness to try new, honest ways of living and loving could be the path to happiness and a better world.

It’s clear from the start that this particular arrangement is so rare that it is close to a fairy tale, a fairy tale that even features a unicorn. Then again,  children’s fairy tales are a way of tackling the challenges offered by a world that can seem dark and forbidding. I don’t want to say whether their happiness ultimately comes from their being all together or working out different kinds of relationships, but I certainly came out of the theatre feeling upbeat about the world.

Miriam Buether’s set is half of a dome, the other half being in effect the fourth wall. It occasionally concertinas up at the back to allow an entrance. The impression is that the three are contained within a cocoon, thus adding to the feeling that they are in a fantasy world. The backdrop is bathed in different colours, and sometimes Natasha Chivers‘ lighting design casts multiple shadows. I’m not sure if that’s to indicate the multiple possibilities of modern relationships or more mundanely to make the image of two or three people on stage more visually stimulating. There are few props- chairs or a sofa to sit on, a bed to lie on. Refreshingly, both designer and director take a discreet approach that lets the actors to do their job.

I certainly wouldn’t go see Unicorn if you’re hoping for an erotic evening, but if you take it as a fantasy delve into changing attitudes to relationships, then it’s both interesting and funny. If nothing else, it will get you talking, and who knows what that might lead to.

Unicorn can be seen at the Garrick Theatre until 26 April 2025.

Paul paid for his ticket.

Click here to watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

 

 

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Theatre Review – The Autobiography of a Cad – Watermill

Ian Hislop’s satirical comedy lacks bite

★★★
James Mack and Mitesh Soni in The Autobiography of a Cad. Photo: Matt Crockett

I always look forward to seeing a play by Ian Hislop and Nick Newman at the Watermill Theatre in Newbury, but on this occasion I was disappointed. Their adaptation of The Autobiography of a Cad, a 1930s satire about a self-centred lying politician with a public school background, may have modern parallels but it didn’t seem like a play for today. Fortunately it did feature an outstanding lead performance. Keep watching and I’ll tell you all about it.

Ian Hislop, editor of Private Eye and star of Have I Got News For You, and Nick Newman have almost made a speciality of paying homage to past satirists. Wipers Times told of First World War soldiers who mocked their commanders,  Spike was a tribute to Spike Milligan and The Goons who sent up the establishment, Trial By Laughter concerned the early 19th century government’s attempt to censor satirist William Hone. All of those, like their new offering, were premiered at The Watermill.
The author of The Autobiography of a Cad, A G MacDonell, was a popular satirist in the 1920s and 30s. All satire is vulnerable to the passing of time and its targets, and he is now almost forgotten. In the case of this book, though, you can see the appeal of revisiting it. It dates from a time when Britain was run by a self-serving corrupt elite who inherited their positions irrespective of ability. You would think that by the twentieth century this had long been replaced by a meritocracy. Except when you realise how many members of the last government came from wealthy backgrounds and had gone through Eton and Oxbridge.
More than that, the subject of this particular story is not simply incompetent or old fashioned, in the way of say Colonel Blimp. The Cad, whose name is Edward Fox-Ingleby, is entitled, self-centred, and misogynistic. He lies his way out of trouble and cheats his way to the top. There’s no explicit nod in the play to any modern self-serving mendacious politician, but you may well be reminded of a few.

James Mack powers the show

Rhiannon Neads and James Mack in The Autobiography of a Cad. Photo: Matt Crockett

The irony of the original ‘autobiography’ speaks for itself but, for dramatic purposes, this play puts the Cad in the process of writing it. This task inevitably involves rewriting history, which two assistants question and challenge with a mixture of bemusement and contempt.

Fox relives moments from his life in which he encounters various friends, colleagues and lovers, and proceeds to stab them in the back. He moves through his boorish misbehaviour as a student, to his mistreatment of the staff on his estate, to avoiding front line fighting in the First World War, to pursuing a political career, all the while carrying on affairs.

James Mack is a regular at The Watermill and always good value. His wide smile with even white teeth makes him perfect for this role as a Teflon politician. He exudes a smarmy charm, while conjuring wide-eyed panic when  he thinks he’s been caught out.  His bravura performance powers the show.

Two actors take on all the other characters. Rhiannon Neads flits from the shocked assistant Miss Appleby to the snarling ghost of Granny Ingleby to sundry girlfriends and wives, while Mitesh Soni is the sneering assistant Mr Collins, the downtrodden farm worker Williams and many powerful but naive men.

Designer Ceci Calf‘s set uses wood panelling and oil-painted portraits to suggest appropriately a Gentlemen’s Club, while cleverly concealing the various props that will be needed.
Each scene is funny in itself but the pattern is always the same: a threat to the Cad, followed by his escape using lies or bribes, then on to the next until it feels relentless. It needs an edit: if nothing else, some of what is in effect a series of sketches could be cut to avoid the diminishing returns.
Having said that, the Cad’s character and behaviour are at times hilarious, and director Paul Hart keeps the pace moving for over two hours.
The Autobiography of a Cad can be seen at the Watermill Theatre until 22 March 2025. Tickets from https://www.watermill.org.uk
Paul was given a review ticket by the theatre
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Theatre review: The Years at The Harold Pinter Theatre

Top class acting makes ordinary life extraordinary


★★★★

Anjli Mohindra, Deborah Findlay, Gina Mckee, Romola Garai & Harmony-Rose Bremner in The Years. Photo: Helen Murray

The Years was originally a book by a Nobel Prize winning French woman Annie Ernaux. It was adapted by a Norwegian woman Eline Arbo who directed it while working with a Dutch company. She has now brought the production to London in an English translation by Stephanie Bain. There were moments when I wondered whether the story of an ordinary life was worth all that pan European effort, but in the end it was the acting that sold it to me.

All the actors have familiar faces. Deborah Findlay, Gina McKee and Romola Garai have appeared regularly on stage and screen for decades. Anjli Mohindra and Harmony Rose-Bremner are young, up-and-coming actors who are already building big reputations.
All have the same ability to convey characters through the subtlest of gestures and expressions, and to communicate with confidence when they are centre stage. These are qualities essential to performing in this play, where the actors play the same person at different stages of her life, and the rest of the time take on the multiple other characters who are part of the story.
Harmony Rose-Bremner is Annie as a child fascinated by the family around her. Then Anjli Mohindra takes over as the joyous adolescent discovering, among other things, masturbation. And I must say I have never seen such an enthusiastic depiction of the act on stage.
In the other half of her life, as the middle-aged Annie, Gina McKee, with her trademark knowing smile, observes a new generation of adults and has the maturity to enjoy her own life more- especially the sex. Then in old age, Deborah Findlay takes over as the actual storyteller, looking at the present and all that has happened with a benign smile. If anyone could be said to take the honours in this masterclass of acting, it would be Romola Garai who takes on the mantle of the fresh young adult, learning about the harsh realities of relationships.
And it is quite an epic, taking a provincial French woman from childhood to old age. But what happens to her isn’t exceptional, with the important exception that the lives of ordinary women are rarely told on stage or anywhere else for that matter.
It gains much of its force from being told against the background of the second half of the twentieth century. In other words, it becomes a celebatory story of Women in our time or, depending on our age, the time of our parents and grandparents. So we run through post-Second World War austerity to the growth of consumerism, 1960s rebellion, the sexual liberation encouraged by the Pill, the triumph of free market capitalism, the beginning of a new millennium and 9/11. Lists of brand names and new consumer devices like the Walkman form a motif throughout the play.
The woman is first seen as a young girl, the youngest in the family, and ends up a grandmother, the oldest. In the course of the play, she discovers her sexuality, has non-consensual sex, an unwanted pregnancy, babies, a divorce, more pleasurable sex, copes with teenage children, and becomes an empty nester. The exploration of a life from it all being ahead to being behind is fascinating, and salutary. Annie describes how the memories ‘will all vanish at the same time, like the millions of images that lay behind the foreheads of the grandparents, dead for half a century, and of the parents, also dead…And one day we’ll appear in our children’s memories, among their grandchildren and people not yet born.’
Some of the events are upsetting, such as a harrowing illegal abortion (the play was stopped the night I was there because a member of the audience fainted, which I gather is not unusual), some are funny as when they all join in doing stretches with varying degrees of success as part of a Jane Fonda style fitness session.
But, in itself, this is not enough. Not because it’s about a woman but because  a cushioned middle-class life is just not that interesting. It can be: even the most ordinary life has conflicts, challenges, threats, difficult relationships. But in this story, such things are deliberately played down. The alienating way of telling this trip of a lifetime, in which an actor describes what’s going on even as it happens, and with the characters around her almost anonymous, anaesthetises us from the dramas of her life.

The trip of a lifetime

Where we all gain, male and female, is in the story of time itself, and the way our memories remain with us, making the past always present. This is reinforced by all five incarnations, in the form of the actors, remaining on stage throughout. Another motif concerns the taking of photographs that hold one moment in time for a lifetime and beyond.
The story might still seem a trifling thing but for the performances and the creative elements of the production. The actors are all at the top of their game. They wear roughly the same costumes throughout and have few props but, because they speak with passion and mime so convincingly, we believe they are schoolchildren, disco dancing, naked in the bedroom, and so on.
In Juul Dekker’s sparse set, white cloths that represent the background to the photos, are rolled up to act as a baby or become a tablecloth, and end up, having been stained by wine, blood and other fluids of life, hanging as the backcloths to the life we have witnessed. Then, there’s the music. Harmony Rose-Bremner and Romola Garai sing beautifully and add extra depth to the moods of joy and sadness.
I don’t think the play carries the weight it aspires to, but the acting more than makes up for that.

The Years can be seen at the Harold Pinter Theatre from 24 January until 24 April 2025.  Buy tickets direct from the theatre.

Paul was given a review ticket by the producer

Watch this review on the YouTube channel Theatre Reviews With Paul Seven

Click here for a roundup of reviews of The Years

If you’ve seen The Years at the Harold Pinter or the Almeida Theatre, please add your review and rating below

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The Little Foxes at the Young Vic – review

Anne-Marie Duff is chilling in 20th century classic

★★★★

A woman in a dress holding a cup faces a man in a suit with a paper under his arm, both are standing
Anne-Marie Duff & Mark Bonnar in The Little Foxes. Photo: Johan Persson

Like me, you probably see more acting on TV than in the theatre. That means I’m always interested to see whether a favourite actor can make that transition from screen to stage.  The Little Foxes at the Young Vic was packed with faces from British television. Mark Bonnar who you will have seen in Shetland and Guilt; Steffan Rhodri best known as Dave Coaches from Gavin & Stacey; Anna Madeley who is Mrs Hall in All Creatures Great And Small; and one certifiable star in Anne-Marie Duff most recently seen in Bad Sisters.

I have seen all these actors on stage before, but it is still a thrill to be reminded that, like so many other screen actors, they are often only giving us a glimpse of their skills when they’re in front of a camera. The real test of their acting ability comes when they are trapped in the time and space of a theatre show, communicating directly with a live audience. This cast passed the test with distinction. 
Lillian Hellman’s The Little Foxes was premiered in 1939 but this attack on capitalism focuses on a family of landowners from the American South around 1900. So, the first question you might ask is, why did Lillian Hellman, who was a communist by the way, set her play around 40 years in the past? I’m guessing it’s because 1939 was not the best time for an anti-capitalist message. America had just experienced successful state intervention in their free market system in the form of Roosevelt’s New Deal, so a mixed economy may have seemed more attractive than a communist one. More than that, communists, capitalists, rich and poor were in the process of uniting in a fight against fascism, or at least that was the perception. So it might have been easier to show unadulterated capitalism, raw in tooth and claw as it were, from a couple of generations earlier.
The first half introduces us to the Hubbard family. There are two brothers- Ben played by Mark Bonnar, cunning as a fox and arrogant as a peacock, initially strutting about the stage, nonchalantly shrugging off challenges. Ben boasts of the way his family, who were traders, took advantage of the Civil War to buy up property while the Southern grandees were being defeated, fighting for their principles. He is even proud of their exploitation of what he calls ‘coloured people’.
The other brother Oscar, a weak bully, is played by Steffan Rhodri with a rat-like blend of slyness and nerves. The lead character is their sister Regina played by Anne-Marie Duff. Her bravura performance dominates the evening, entrancing us with her hyperactive character, who is by turn charming, quivering with frustration or displaying a diamond hard will power that is genuinely chilling. Her sparkling eyes and wide smile are a mask that covers her amorality.
The brothers inherited their father’s money. When they have an investment opportunity that will make them a huge fortune, Regina is shocked and angry to find she has been left out of the spoils. She plots to get both her share and revenge, by using her ailing husband’s money to make up the additional investment her brothers need.
After a slow first half that establishes the characters and their situation, the play takes off like a SpaceX rocket, as these greedy siblings ruthlessly trick and use one another.  Regina becomes more ruthless than any of them in her ambition.
It’s a savage expose of people whose greed trounces love, loyalty and all other moral values. But, is it relevant today? I guess the answer to that partly depends on your politics, but the fact is, capitalism remains the dominant system, despite regulation and the welfare state. Add to which, we appear to be entering an era of less regulation, in America at least, and we have seen the privatisation of public services in the UK. So I suppose it is a good time to be reminded that however high the quality of service or product we receive from companies, their number one priority is profit, not people. 

Powerful performance from Anna Madeley

A mature woman in a dress looks down
Anna Madeley in The Little Foxes. Photo: Johan Persson

The play presents some alternatives. Oscar’s wife Birdie is from an aristocratic family. She represents the ‘old values’ based on patronage, duty and responsibility. She is an alcoholic, bullied by her husband, and ghosted into a lack of confidence. She may be brittle- she laughs nervously, she looks down, there’s fear in her eyes- but still expresses her beliefs. It’s a powerful performance from Anna Madeley, showing Birdie beaten down but still proud. The quality and depth of her acting won’t surprise you if you’ve seen her as Mrs Hall, giving much-needed weight to the cosiness of All Creatures Great and Small.

Regina’s husband and daughter show that behaving morally is an option. They are played by John Light and Eleanor Worthington-Cox, the latter subtly showing how her character grows in strength as events force her to choose between standing up for her beliefs or standing by watching. In fact, the play’s strongest message is that most of us stand by watching bad things happening and do nothing about it. In stark contrast, Oscar’s son, played by Stanley Morgan, is morally bankrupt, like his father.
The black servants show two different sides of the class that has been most exploited and abused by this family. Freddie MacBruce as Cal goes about his job without question, but Andrea Davy’s Addie is firm in her opinions and tenderly loyal to those who treat her well.
Quite a few reviewers criticised the design, suggesting that its mid 20th century look was not appropriate, and even confusing, when used in a play set in 1900. On the contrary, I think Lizzie Clachan’s design is a stroke of genius. First and foremost, it doesn’t distract. A turn of the century design could have made the story seem of a bygone age, irrelevant to today. On the other hand, modern day clothes would have been too anachronistic for a play that’s set over a hundred years ago and mentions horses and carriages.
Instead, Ms Clachan cleverly plumps for the neutrality of clothes of the time it was written. The dominant beige reinforces this.  The absence of the trappings of the life of the well-off suggests these are people who want wealth for its own sake. They aren’t even that interested in enjoying the luxuries that come with it.
It’s a damning picture of capitalism but I think it’s unfair to suggest, as some critics did, that it fails because the main character doesn’t evoke enough sympathy. I found that I had plenty of sympathy with her over the way she was treated and therefore cheered her on as she exacted revenge. But that sympathy only heightened the shock of seeing just how far she would go and what sacrifices she would make. Yes, she does become a monster but it seems possibly sexist to me to suggest that this portrait of a greedy capitalist woman can only can only be of interest if we have sympathy for her. I don’t think you have to sympathise with the murdering Macbeth to get involved in his character and story, or with the greedy Lehman Brothers to find them fascinating. I didn’t like Regina as a human being but it was gripping to see how far she would go and whether she would finally realise there is more to life than money.
Director Lyndsey Turner delivers a powerful interpretation and the excellent cast squeeze every ounce of drama out of it. Before the interval I was wondering whether it was ever going to take off but when it did it was riveting. And if you love watching great acting, this is one not to miss.

The Little Foxes is at the Young Vic until 8 February 2025. Buy tickets direct from the theatre

Paul paid for his ticket
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Theatre review – The Devil Wears Prada with Vanessa Williams – Dominion

Vanessa Williams does it with style


★★★★

Vanessa Williams and Matt Henry in The Devil Wears Prada. Photo: Matt Crockett

There’s no denying this musical offers style over substance, but, if you don’t go expecting substance, you will be rewarded with plenty of style. It helps of course that The Devil Wears Prada has a book by Kate Wetherhead, music by Elton John, lyrics by Shaina Taub and Mark Sonnenblick and a star like Vanessa Williams, but what really cements these contributions into a great musical is the director/choreographer Jerry Mitchell. This guy knows how to put on a show. His production packs the stage with dazzling dance routines, soaring voices, brilliant sets and just sheer energy.

Very much in line with the film, it tells the story of a serious young journalist called Andrea who gets a job working for a prestigious but, to her, frivolous fashion magazine as second assistant to the tyrannical editor. It’s a kind of Faustian pact in which she has to trade her principles for journalistic success. The question is, will she or won’t she? Spoiler alert!- she doesn’t.
Let’s start with how it looks (very appropriate for a show about the fashion industry). The stage is brilliantly lit by Bruno Poet and populated by fabulous dresses designed by Greg Barnes. I believe at least some of them are genuine haute couture frocks. Even the proscenium arch has a strip of neon light running round it like the beading on a Chanel handbag. Tim Hatley’s sets suggest the opulence of the world they describe, except of course the set for Andy’s poky apartment. You have never seen such vivid reds as at the Ball, centred on an extravagant staircase. And Paris is evoked not only by a giant depiction of the Eiffel Tower but also beautiful red white and blue colours.
The Dominion has a large stage but this show has no problem filling it. Over two dozen performers go through their routines with military precision. Okay, there is the odd occasion when they seem to be just running around but mostly the moves are eye-catching and clever. Models sway down the aisles onto the stage. The second act opens in a hospital where a row of handsome male nurses form a chorus line.
The principal characters are sharply drawn and perfectly cast. Vanessa Williams as Miranda Priestly, editor of the Vogue-like Runway magazine, is stupendous, every bit as haughty, cutting and frightening as you would hope. In a ‘less is more’ performance, she emanates power. It’s only a shame that Elton John hasn’t come up with a song that truly conveys her devilish character.
Georgie Buckland as Andy makes her West End debut but you would imagine she was a musical veteran, such is the confidence and versatility with which she acts the part of a mouse that becomes a tiger. Very nearly stealing the show is Amy di Bartolomeo who is very funny as Emily, Miranda’s desperate, appearance-obsessed primary personal assistant. All three women have extraordinarily good singing voices, the kind that can hit spine tinglingly high notes.
Nigel- the Stanley Tucci part in the movie (I say that because I’m not exactly sure what this character’s job is, but he’s important and he befriends Andy)-is played by Matt Henry with humour and sensitivity.
Georgie Buckland in The Devil Wears Prada

I was concerned by the end of the first act that too many of Elton John’s songs were fast moving and rhythm heavy in the style of Crocodile Rock. Then again, the relentless rock matched Andy’s experience of being swept along by the pace and pressure of her new job.

The second act is a different proposition. The book and the songs reveal  more about the characters’ personalities and stories, so there’s room for slower and more poignant songs, which carry the familiar Elton John stamp. The lyrics are quite witty and take the story forward. Nigel in particular has a plaintive song Seen in which he describes being an ostracised gay youngster saved by joining the fashion world.
So the music works, even if there are no showstoppers and you don’t leave singing any of the songs. At this point, I should say that the live band under Katharine Woolley drives the show like a Ferrari.
Lightweight, yes, but thanks to a fabulous production and splendid performers, this is a musical to savour. That’s all!
The Devil Wears Prada can be seen at The Dominion Theatre until 3 January 2026. Click here to buy tickets direct.
Paul was given a review ticket by the producer.
Othe critics were not so enthusiastic. Read a roundup of their reviews here.
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