No Hopers at the Dogstar in Brixton

Hannah and Cain are broke, jobless and are lacking any real direction - but at least they have each other to muddle through life with. Hannah played magnificently by Izzy Lim is a whirlwind of unbounded energy, abbreviates most of her dialogue and doesn’t suffer fools gladly. However, beneath her tough bravado filled exterior, Hannah is just a fragile little girl who longs to make it as an actress. No Hopers is a Fringe production that questions what lengths a person is willing to go to earn a little extra money. Would you be willing to compromise your morals and integrity whilst trampling on those you are supposed to care about the most? 

Firmly rooted in 2014, No Hopers'  modern present day context couldn’t be easily forgotten with the abundance, bordering on excessive use of contemporary references. The young couple are suffering from a severe bout of post-university blues. During a therapy session Hannah questions how her peers seem to be so much better at coping with being a grown up then she is. Struggling to survive on their joint job seekers allowance, both Hannah and Cain (Jumaane Brown) resort to some rather unconventional means to make ends meet, Hannah strays into the world of phone sex - a digression complete with an exaggerated chinese accent showcased Lim’s natural comedic talent. Cain on the other hand is seduced by the chance to earn an easy £3,000 by attending Flu Camp. With Cain away at Flu Camp, and Hannah acting in an educational tour of Snow White, the pair are forced to spend time apart. A separation that disastrously alters the course of Hannah and Cain’s relationship.

At times No Hopers felt very busy, almost as if writers Rob Skinner and Daisy-May Pattison-Corney had tried to cram too many complex subject matters into a play that was already thematically bursting at the seams. That said, there’s a lot to like in the work. For instance the female lead was presented in such a multi-faceted and believable manner that I felt sure that she simply must be based on a person from the writers‘ own lives. The role was brought to life exquisitely by Lim, whose frantic yet fragile nervous breakdown made for some truly tender moments. 

Alongside the two protagonists the rest of the ensemble each play three or four small parts. Multiple roles enable the group to showcase their versatility as actors. I particularly enjoyed the stark difference between mellow struggling artist Sam and over zealous theatrical Nathan- both of which were played with utter conviction by redhead Andrew Lavelle.

It may have been due to the extreme heat and lack of air at the Dogstar in Brixton, but at two and half hours, No Hopers felt quite long. I think it could do with a little tightening in parts and a few of the more demonstrative scenes could easily be shaved off. That said, No Hopers is gritty, topical and stayed true to the spirit of Fringe theatre    

No Hopers was playing at the Dogstar in Brixton 22-24th of July for details of future tour dates visit www.imaginaryfriendstheatre.com 

Two school groups take to the Olivier stage

Imagine performing your end of year play on the prestigious Olivier stage, at The National Theatre. As part of the Connections festival, over the past six days, ten schools and youth groups have been treading the boards at one of London’s most iconic venues, each performing a completely new play penned by a professional playwright. The double-bill I was treated to consisted of a piece called Pronoun by Evan Placey, which was performed enthusiastically by Cornwall College St Austell. The work centered around gender identity as a young teen struggled to come to terms with being transgender. The second offering of the evening, was Catherine Johnson’s A Letter to Lacey a musical in which Bristolian school group, John Cabot Academy explored the concept of domestic abuse in teenage relationships.  

As with many of the set texts I recall studying at school both plays were moralistic with clear educational messages. However, I couldn’t help but think that the greatest lesson that the 5,000 young people that were involved in the Connections festival across the length and breadth of the country will have take away from the project, was probably the unforgettable experience of performing on a professional stage. Both groups of young performers shone with self confidence as they commanded the space with buoyant conviction. 

The evening began with Pronoun a work in which childhood sweethearts, Josh and Isabella, are busy flicking through their Lonely Planets guides planning their gap year to Thailand. One thing they haven’t prepared for however, is Isabella’s decision to become a boy called Dean. This comical love story explores: transition, hormones and tolerance. As Josh and Dean, Chris Martin and Rebecca Herrington are very strong protagonists that convey the awkward teenage interactions in a naturalistic and authentically believable manner. I also enjoyed Cornwall College St Austell’s clever use of the ensemble, for instance when a large group of students spilt the part of one teacher or doctor,  with everyone of them accentuating the same gestures and echoing similar lines of speech, which comically magnified the exaggerated characteristics. Another standout performer is Chloe Bruce’s portrayal of the pair’s best friend Laura. Pronoun isn’t without it’s flaws, I personally didn’t really understand what the musical interludes added to the work, and Dean’s interaction with a anthropomorphic James Dean poster was a bizarre digression that felt out of place in an otherwise naturalistic work. That said, Cornwall College St Austell presented the complex and topical subject matter of being transgender in a mature and engaging manner. 

A Letter to Lacey, tells the troubling story of Kara a naive girl who was suffered at the hands of her abusive boyfriend Reece. Two years on, and now a single mother - Kara feels compelled to write a letter warning Reece’s new girlfriend about his violent temper. The role of Kara is divided between Polly Rorison who narrates the ordeal, bright-eyed Jade Goodyear who plays a giddy and slightly ditzy younger version of Kara, and Kim Veitch who evokes the present day downtrodden manifestation of the protagonist. All three incarnations of Kara deliver emotive performances, and are strong singers. As per Catherine Johnson’s previous form with her hit Mamma Mia, A Letter to Lacey is also a musical. For me, there is something uncomfortably jarring about having  upbeat all singing all dancing moments injected into a play that focuses on the idea of domestic abuse. 

After the jubilant John Cabot Academy had taken their bow, new artistic director of National Theatre, Rufus Norris took to the stage, and recounted his own involvement in youth theatre at the age of just 15. Norris is clearly a champion of the next generation being exposed to the arts from as young an age as possible, experiences and opportunities such as Connections are clearly instrumental in ensuring that this tradition continues.

So much more than 'just a housewife'

Contrary to what the title of her one woman show suggests Pippa Winslow is so much more than ‘just a housewife’. This sassy Californian with a mischievous glint in her eye, who toured with the Broadway production of Phantom of the Opera for many years, has a colourful dating history and a penchant for selecting just the right song from the musical theatre back catalogue to illustrate pivotal events from her life.

This semi-autobiographical evening of memoir and songs took place in the epitome of a fringe venue, a tiny theatre called the Rabbit Hole, tucked away in the cellar of the Duke of Hamilton pub. Many would have been phased by performing in a dimly lit space to an audience that was sadly thin on the ground, but instead Pippa delivered a show that was intimate yet oozed gumption. It is worthy of a more impressive venue and certainly deserving to be seen by a larger audience. Skilful song choice coupled with Pippa’s frank and sincere delivery made for a highly entertaining and engaging performance.

Staged simply with just the bare black walls, a stool to perch on and Andrew Hopkins tinkling the ivories, beneath the harsh spotlight Pippa is extremely exposed from the start. The opening number ‘I Want It All’ may well be from the musical Baby, but it’s lyrics read like the soundtrack to Mrs Winslow’s life. For instance the chorus of “I want adventure, love, career, kids large and small I want it all” the desire to try and achieve everything all at once rings extremely true to her own personal narrative. She recounts honestly that even when her acting career was at its peak, all she truly longed for was to settle down and have children. However, that picturesque domesticity came at the price of her career, as in order to raise her children she had to sacrifice her own dreams and become a housewife. The reoccurring theme in Just a Housewife is Pippa’s struggle to come to terms and embrace this new phase in her life. Yes, Pippa is a superb singer, but what truly sets this show apart from the countless other evenings with songs and anecdotes currently being performed, is that Pippa’s tales are honest and genuine, speaking about a subject matter that many could undoubtedly relate to.

What really struck me about Just a Housewife was how well-crafted it was, it was apparent from the start that each song and anecdote had been thoughtfully chosen. I also appreciated the way in which Pippa and her musical director and pianist Andrew Hopkins had delved beyond the clichéd and over-performed repertoire, to uncover some gems that I for one had never heard before. Such as ‘Shattered Illusions’ from Fascinating Aida, and the highly comical ‘Los Pinguinos’, a South American love story about two penguins which comically involved Pippa making penguin noises and sound effects as part of the rendition. Pippa has a fine sense of comic timing, and was perhaps most at ease when performing character pieces, such as the frazzled runaway bride in ‘Getting Married Today’ from the little-performed musical, Company.

In short, Pippa dazzled the audience from start to finish transforming what was formerly a dark and dingy beer cellar into a glistening performance space fit for a Broadway starlet. 

Don't feed the plants!

There aren’t many musicals that have an all singing, all dancing, carnivorous plant with an unquenchable thirst for human blood as one of their central characters, consequently I have always had a soft spot for Howard Ashman’s and Alan Menken’s science fiction inspired production Little Shop of Horrors. Brought thrillingly to life by Seedtime (a Company of talented final year students from performing arts school London Studio Centre that have chosen to specialise in musical theatre), who for the most part delivered high-octane and accomplished performances.  Showcasing that many of the musical theatre stars of tomorrow have honed their singing, dancing and acting abilities to such a high standard that they are what the industry commonly refer to as triple-threats.

The residents of Skid Row are downbeat, dejected and struggling to make ends meet. One such failing business is Mrs Musnik’s rundown florist, with no customers passing through, it like many other businesses on Skid Row will surely face inevitable closure. That is until Seymour (Jamie Tibke), a gawky floral assistant discovers a new species of “strange and interesting” plant, that once displayed in the shop’s window captures the publics interest and drums up some much needed custom for the business. His botanical discovery, which he names Audrey II, unexpectedly catapults a social awkward Seymour to fame, as he becomes an overnight media sensation. However, Audrey II - whose gravely and blues infused tones are voiced superbly be Ryan Ridley, is an ill tempered plant, whose constant demands for human blood, force Seymour to go to sinisterly immoral lengths to satisfy his plants insatiable needs

For the most part Seedtime’s production of Little Shop of Horrors stays true to the characterisation used in Frank Oz’s 1986 filmic version of the work. For instance, the quintet of Ronnettes echo the sassy and vivacious nature of the original brilliantly. I was particularly impressed that as Audrey, Abigayle Honeywill was able to sustain the same high-pitched Tweety-Pie-esque voice (that Ellen Greene memorably created for Audrey) for the duration of the piece. I thought Honeywill captured Audrey’s sweet, ditzy and vulnerable nature perfectly. Her formidable singing voice was showcased superbly in Suddenly Seymour  and her final musical number the reprise of Somewhere That’s Green.    That said, I did think that for a character that is described as a “semi-sadist”, Connor Minney’s depiction of Audrey’s controlling boyfriend Orin could have made more of his characters manic and sadistic tendencies. Another performance that is worthy of note is Robyn Richford, who played an assortment of parts within the ensemble, whenever she was onstage my eye always seemed to be drawn towards her animated performances. 

Seedtime’s rendition of Little Shop of Horrors, was engaging,enjoyable and the entire Company’s sheer delight and enthusiasm for being onstage was undeniably infectious. 

“I like ballet, just not all the nonsense” said Dada Masilo

During her post show talk, South African choreographer Dada Masilo commented “I like ballet, just not all the nonsense”. Masilo’s interpretation of the classic Swan Lake is a refreshing retelling of the archetypal ballet that combines African dance, ballet and contemporary dance - contrasting dance styles that are stylistically linked by a spattering of highly comical moments that pulsate through the work.

Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake, begins with a tongue in cheek deconstruction of many of the tropes used in the original work, referring to the corps de ballet as “surplus girls in the moonlight” and branding the male dancer’s grand jetes as “virility jumps”, many of Masilo’s wry observations rely on a level of familiarity with the source work. In a similar vein to Matthew Bourne who is also closely associated with creating a new interpretation of Swan Lake (his version was perhaps most striking as his cast of swans is entirely male, all of whom skillfully perform on pointe) Masilo, like Bourne also drastically alters the familiar narrative. In this version Masilo herself dances the lead female role of Odette, who in this interpretation is a rather coquettish swan whose shimmies and tutu shaking evokes carnival like exuberance. Her groom to be Siegfried (Songezo Mcilizeli) is somewhat intimidated by his betrothed’s confident and overpowering nature, however it soon becomes clear the reason that he is reluctant to commit to Odette is that his heart belongs to male swan called Odile who is danced gracefully by Llewellyn Mnguni.

One clear thematic thread that runs through this Swan Lake, is the lack of the division between the genders, a divide that is normally so commonly defined in classical ballet. One way that Masilo shuns this convention by having both her male and female dancers wear white tutus, another is that whilst the rest of the company dance barefoot Odile, the forbidden object of Siegfried’s attention is the only dancer that dances on pointe. Freed from the stringent constrictions of classical ballet provides the work with both comical and truly poignant moments. Siegfried’s and Odile’s duet in act two, was a tender amalgamation of beautiful movements, as both men supported each other in a series of suspended lifts. Performed superbly to the sounds of Slow, Steve Wright Variations for Vibes, Pianos & Strings (2005) Pyotr Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake, which in itself is a reworking of a piece from Tchaikovsky’s original score. One of Masilo’s overriding messages within the work seemed to be challenging the idea that there is only one possible way to tell a familiar tale.

Being performed for just two nights as part of Sadler’s Wells’ Sampled Festival, Dada Masilo’s Swan Lake marks Masilo’s UK premiere. Her choreographic voice that blends African dance with ballet and contemporary technique is not only refreshing but uniquely different as I think she is quite unlike any other choreographer who is currently producing work in the UK. As I left the theatre two thoughts ran through my mind, the first was that I felt very lucky to have just watched such a remarkable piece of dance, the second was the assurance that Dada Masilo would be a name that we would be hearing a lot more of in the future.

First ever venture to the Royal Court

Jeeto Gill has spent her life working her fingers to the bone and making countless sacrifices for her two children. Widowed and now in her sixties, she is looking forward to returning to her motherland in the Punjab, as she longs to spend her days relaxing on her newly-built verandah whilst gazing out at lush green pastures. However, for the time being Jeeto (Sudha Bhuchar) spends her time nursing a cup of chai whilst trying to convince her son Pal (Rez Kempton) that, despite his reluctance to do so, it is his familial duty to continue running his late father’s corner shop. Pal’s western wife Liz, who is played endearingly by former Eastenders and Mr Selfridge actress Lauren Crace, is bubbly, well-versed and assimilated into Punjabi culture and desperate to start a family of her own. Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti’s aptly named play Khandan (which translates as “family”) is a detailed study of the complex interaction, dynamics and cultural difference between the various generations within the Gill family. Khandan is a real joy to watch, tackling so many of the same thematic strands that this gem of a play could easily be mistaken for the sequel of Damien O’Donnell’s much-loved film East is East.

Khandan is so well paced and naturalistic it is easy to forget that you are watching a play at all, instead it feels like the audience have all been invited into the Gill family’s homely living room and offered their own cup of chai. This is largely thanks to Kaur Bhatti’s character-driven narrative that is executed superbly by the small cast of six. The best word to describe this well-nuanced piece of theatre would be ‘authentic’ – everything from the rotis and saag that are cooked live on stage right through to comedic moments, such as when Jeeto justifies that the reason she needs to shout down the phone is so that the relatives on the other end of the line in India can hear her. These moments enable the audience to escape into the naturalistic verisimilitude of the piece.

I particularly enjoyed Kaur Bhatti’s varied depiction of the female characters in the work: from Jeeto, the highly critical matriarch, to her wry and wayward daughter Cookie, and of course the over-enthusiastic daughter-in-law Liz, who is eager to please at all times. Each and every one of the female parts are multi-faceted and engaging to watch. My only slight criticism of the piece would be that the plot twist that is instigated by Pal’s destitute cousin Reema (Preeya Kalidas) is slightly predictable, and teeters on the edge of being soap opera-esque. That said, on the whole Khandan is one of the most enjoyable plays that I have seen this year. I would strongly recommend spending the evening in the company of the Gill family, sipping a cup of chai that Jeeto will probably complain has been made with too much milk.

Shock, confusion and family tension.

At just 19 years-old Polly Stenham penned the award-winning gritty family drama That Face, which resulted in her being the toast of the Royal Court. Now, eight years on, Stenham’s latest offering is a dark and disturbing three-act play entitled Hotel.

Robert (Tom Beard) has taken his family on holiday to a remote Kenyan island in an attempt to repair his marriage which is in tatters following the revelation that he was involved in an internet sex scandal. Following mass media coverage of the story his wife Vivienne (Hermione Gulliford) has been forced to resign from her post as Secretary of State for Trade and Investment. Meanwhile, unbeknown to them, their teenage son Ralph is also harbouring a destructive secret. An unexpected plot twist soon makes their initial problems pale in comparison and causes this family’s stay in paradise to rapidly descend into a hellish ordeal.

Hotel is a play of two dramatically different halves. The first half is stylistically typical of Stenham’s previous works and centres around the interplay between family dynamics. This is illustrated brilliantly by the exchanges between siblings Ralph (Tom Rhys Harries) and his precocious younger sister, Frankie (Shannon Tarbet). For instance, the pair can often be found bickering playfully, as Frankie teases and cajoles Ralph into indulging her every whim – which includes persuading him to join in with her highly comical Destiny’s Child dance routine. However, Hoteldoes not circumnavigate the familiar territory of a dysfunctional family for long, as the second half – which is instigated by Kenyan hotel maid Nala (Susan Wokoma) - takes a drastically explosive turn that is extremely reminiscent of Sarah Kane’s play Blasted.

Thematically, Hotel centres around ideas related to betrayal, fear, revenge, blame, accountability and post-colonialism – vast themes that this work struggles to explore in any great depth. This is not surprising considering they are all crammed into a play that is only 80 minutes long. However, both director Maria Aberg and the accomplished core cast should be commended for their disturbing and physical portrayal of violence and brutality. In particular, Wokoma’s writhing around in pain was delivered with such plausibility that it made for uncomfortably visceral viewing.

In Hotel, Stenham has created a series of engaging characters that inhabit a plot littered with shocking twists and turns. However, the element I found most surprising was the work’s abrupt ending. By opting for a cliff-hanger style finish the piece lacked any resolution, and I was left feeling unclear what message (if any) the audience were supposed to take away from what they had just witnessed.

If Stenham’s intention was to lure her audience into a false sense of security, only to then pull the pristine white hotel rug from under their feet, and leave many in an open-mouthed state of shock and confusion, then she succeeded.

White goggles, ghostly whispers and forgotten spaces

Using the Royal Academy of Arts as its canvas Symphony of a Missing Room is a sensory exploration of the way in which visitors conduct themselves in a gallery. Along with a cluster of four other participants we began our tour in the main exhibition space, where the venue technicians and staff were still in the process of preparing for the summer exhibition. With many portraits still to be hung, walls being sanded and varnished – coupled with curator’s instructions such as ‘Info Panel Here’ scrawled onto scraps of brown paper – the calm ambience normally associated with this pristine gallery was nowhere to be found.

With a wide smile, our first nameless tour guide told us each to take a seat on one of the stalls that were scattered in the archways of the gallery space. The main thread that pulsates through Symphony of a Missing Room, is that we should reexamine the way that we consume art and respond to galleries. The first exploration of this concept began with the aforementioned act of sitting down, rather than walking briskly through the space; these moments of enforced stillness focused my mind enabling me to really examine and absorb the works that surrounded me. After a short while the grinning guide returned to place sound-cancelling headphones over my ears. At first all I could hear was muffled soundscape peppered with booming footsteps; those noises slowly transformed into a childlike voice that uttered instructions softly.

Having been instructed to close my eyes, the audio asked me to consider not only the artworks that were presently in the room but those forgotten pieces that had previously hung there. The echoes and whispers of artists that had previously inhabited the space filled the room. This sensory experience (devised by Swedish-born artists Lundahl & Seitl) then intensified as white goggles were then placed over my eyes. Unable to rely on two of your primary senses was daunting at first; you are left no choice but to take the ghostly hand that is offered to you as the tour continues. This multi-sensory interactivity is littered with the unexpected, and that it is a truly unique way to explore the public and private spaces of the Royal Academy.

In a nutshell Symphony of a Missing Room is surreal, clever and will leave you feeling disorientated. The only frame of reference that I can think to parallel it to would be Fuel Theatre’s Ring –a work which I saw last year at the Edinburgh Fringe – performed in pitch black with only an audio to guide you. Once again, the LIFT festival should be applauded for their daring and experimental programming. Lundahl & Seitl have created performed variations of Symphony of a Missing Room in many different performance spaces across the globe, and I can think of many other locations that would lend themselves extremely well to their imaginative illusions. This performance marked their UK premiere, and I for one think Lundahl & Seitl are names that we will be hearing a great deal more about in the future.

De Profundis - Oscar Wilde's final days

In 1985 playwright, wordsmith and all-round Victorian dandy Oscar Wilde was sentenced to a two year stint in Reading Jail for being a homosexual – then considered a crime under the Gross Indecency Act. De Profundis is a musical adaptation of the letter that Wilde wrote to his lover Lord Alfred Douglas (or ‘Bosie’ as he is more commonly known) from his prison cell. As Wilde, Alastair Brookshaw’s performance is a truly compelling experience as he captures his sense of shame, anger, vulnerability and philosophical reflections splendidly. With music and lyrics by Paul Dale Vickers it soon becomes clear why De Profundis was the deserving winner of the inaugural Leicester Square Theatre’s New Musical Project.

In the basement of Leicester Square Theatre is the Lounge Theatre a small space with an intimate nature that heightens the claustrophobic nature of Wilde’s prison cell. Staged simply with only a stark wooden bench, Wilde explains through lament-filled songs the betrayal and hurt he feels that his aristocratic lover Bosie betrayed him and how ultimately, with the assistance of Bosie’s father, is responsible for his imprisonment. Yet, somehow despite the shame and ridicule that his lover has brought upon him, Wilde simply can not bring himself to stop loving him.

The intrinsically melodic nature of Wilde’s penmanship translates well into Vickers’ soaring musical phrases that are brimming with sorrow, putting Wilde’s inimitable phrases such as ‘hang the night with stars so that I may walk about in darkness without stumbling’ makes for some hauntingly moving lyrics. I also particularly enjoyed the autobiographical nature of the work, as we learn of his bankruptcy, that his mother has died during his incarceration, and perhaps the blow that Wilde found most distressing, the fact the courts said he was an unfit father and denied him any contact with his much-loved and cherished sons Cyril and Vyvyan. You cannot help but feel moved by Brookshaw’s intense and earnest delivery of Wilde’s tragic demise.


For the most part De Profundis was an accomplished and enjoyable production, however I do wish that director Stuart Saint had reminded Brookshaw that when you have audience seated around three sides of the stage, you need to consider where you’re standing to ensure that everybody can enjoy your performance equally. Personally, as somebody that sat on the left hand side of the stage there were far too many moments where all I could see was Brookshaw’s side profile. That said, his depiction of Wilde is delivered with heartfelt conviction. De Profundis is a terrific one-act musical, devised by Vickers that provides a deeper insight into one of the world’s most celebrated playwright’s darkest moments.

Rats, rats, scribbling rats!!!

“A beautiful city glitters during the day, but at night the rats emerge.” A former pillar of society is accused of having an inappropriate relationship with a young boy from a disadvantaged family. Montero, a judge, must attempt to uncover if there is any truth behind these allegations. Is Pablo Rivas, the accused, guilty? Or is he simply a generous father-type figure whose nurturing manner towards a vulnerable youth has been misinterpreted? As a tangled web of lies emerge, it is difficult for Montero to know who is telling the truth as he struggles to rid the city of its sinister characters or ‘rats’. Hamlyn is a chilling piece of theatre that tackles adult themes in a completely gripping manner.

By its own admission Hamlyn is a play without costumes, lights or set; the onus is therefore on the spectator to imagine the unnamed city themselves aided only by childlike chalk drawings that are drawn directly on the black floor and walls. This minimalistic and uncomplicated approach works well, as it enables the audience to focus on the brilliant characterisation within the piece.

As Montero, Tyrone Lopez’s performance was understated with mysterious undertones: on one hand as a professional he is all consumed by his need to solve the case, yet in his personal life it remains unexplained why he is unable to connect with his own son, Jamie. I was also thoroughly impressed by Alex Andreou’s dichotomous depiction of Rivas having a vile yet vulnerable nature. It is testament to Andreou’s skill as an actor that he was able to evoke both disgust and sympathy from the audience. Another performance that is worthy of note is that of the commentator (and assistant director) Ben Borowiecki, whose insightful and witty asides regarding the staging of the play added a welcome meta-theatrical dimension to the work.

One of the most interesting and topical themes in Juan Mayorga’s play Hamlyn is the media’s depiction of controversial cases of suspected child abuse. It criticises their creation of sensationalist headlines, repeatedly commenting that their articles read more like works of literature than factually accurate accounts. Hamlyn explores the destructive impact that such allegations have, not only on the victim but the devastating repercussions they have on everybody that is embroiled in the situation. Mayorga’s work is truly thought-provoking and once the final blackout has occurred, many questions that the piece raised are left unanswered.









This strong cast execute this dark subject matter superbly. Much in the same way the children of Hamlyn were entranced by the hypnotic effect of the tune of the Pied Piper, Mayorga’s Hamlyn also has mesmerising qualities that will leave audiences utterly captivated.

French acrobats in oversized nappies

Compagnie La Meute is a group of six acrobats premièring their work for the first time in the UK as part of the Roundhouse’s Circus Fest. Combining humour, music and plenty of gasp-worthy stunts, this sextet’s act mainly revolves around the ‘French Swing’ (an adaptation of the more traditional Russian Swing) – a robust piece of metal apparatus that, when swung at full velocity, can propel members of the company an impressive ten feet into the air. As the programme notes explain, the company’s name translates as “The Wolf Pack”, as their “risk-taking acrobatics rely on trust, solidarity and the ability to read each other’s non-verbal communication, they always know what the other is going to do next, just like a real-life wolf pack”. Although this production is slick and meticulously rehearsed, a real sense of unsettling unpredictability resonates throughout the piece as the audience are on the edge of their seats, never sure what crazy trick Compagnie La Meute will attempt next.

This talented young company of daredevils comprises Julien Auger, Thibaut Brignier, Mathieu Lagaillarde, Sidney Pin, Arnau Serra Vila and Bahoz Temaux – all of whom wear little in the way of costumes apart from white towels, fashioned to look like over-sized nappies, which for me heightens the overall playful nature of the performance. A recurring motif within the work is when one of the group swings ferociously on the French Swing, whilst the rest of the ‘wolf pack’ lie underneath with their faces just inches away from the trajectory of the rapidly approaching swing. With every stunt the tangible tension within the Roundhouse mounts, as each feat appears to be more dangerous than the last. It is not often that you are sitting in an audience where you can hear so many audible winces and gasps.

Alongside their twists and turns in the air, as they hurtle off the French Swing, they also perform some comedic sequences involving a ladder and a plank of wood, which in parts teeter on the verge of being slapstick-esque. That said, I couldn’t help but be impressed by three grown men balancing on each other’s shoulders in a human column formation, whilst striding confidently around the space. Furthermore, nobody could fault Compagnie La Meute for their creative use of the French Swing; it is impressive that they manage to find so many different variations and ways to use just one piece of apparatus, in such a manner that sustains the audience’s interest throughout.

Although the whole evening is a great display of acrobatic skill, I was a little disappointed with their finale. I had hoped it would build towards an impressive jaw-dropping display, but alas it does not. Without revealing any spoilers, let’s just say it ends with more of a whimper than a bang; it is a real shame that the gathering momentum within the work does not culminate in anything more impressive. Nevertheless, if you enjoy watching scantily-clad men performing acrobatic stunts that really do have to be seen to believed, I strongly suggest you purchase a ticket to see Compagnie La Meute at this year’s Circus Fest.

When the Famous Five went rogue!

I only have to hear the phrase “lashings of ginger beer” and I am instantly transported back to a childhood spent reading Enid Blyton’s ‘The Famous Five’ stories. With their work The Nearly Famous Five, Lancaster-based improvisation group We Are Improv tap into the collective nostalgia and desire to relive these quintessentially British tales. The show began with the audience suggesting that this version of the famous five should be renamed Victoria, Sarah, Felix, Aloysius and Phoebe (their toy pet dog) and that their latest adventure should be entitled ‘The Famous Five Go To Las Vegas And Lose Everything.’

Clearly masters of their craft, We Are Improv are completely unfazed by the idea of concocting a plot that sounds more like the title of one of The Hangover films than a Blyton tale. Aside from being peppered with a few surreal moments (like when the older children attempt to sell Aloysius to a group of Americans, in order to earn enough money to be able to return home) The Nearly Famous Five is highly entertaining.

From the opening scene, during which the quintet are preparing to go on one of their renowned picnics, it is apparent that the cast have spent a great deal of time perfecting their portrayal of these iconic characters. Their wide-eyed smiles, sweeping gender stereotypes and overtly polite manner are all undoubtedly evocative of the ‘jolly hockey sticks’ world that Blyton created. Such firm and recognisable characterisation provides a strong foundation for the piece. Consequently, even when the ‘children’ (who I must stress are all played convincingly by adults) are placed in unlikely scenarios such as a casino, their well-established characters facilitate performances that are still within the realms of possibility.

Aside from occasionally fluffing “Aloysius” – one of the names that the audience had suggested – We Are Improv’s execution is slick and brimming with fast-paced wit. Watching The Nearly Famous Five can be likened to seeing a live recording of Whose Line Is It Anyway? The true charm of the piece is that it doesn’t take itself too seriously. The troupe strive to play homage to the original ‘Famous Five’ adventures by accentuating the underlining humour within the texts, and from the rapturous applause it’s safe to say that they succeeded in doing so.









I am keen to see what We Are Improv do next, and I think with such well-honed improvisational skills they have the potential to take the interactive element of their work to tremendous heights.

Sadly the performances were as wooden as the masks that adorned their faces..

Chris Vervain Theatre’s production of Euripides’Women of Troy paid homage to the Ancient Greek tradition of theatre performed in masks. As it was my first time seeing a piece that used this convention, I was suitably intrigued to see exactly how it would play out – yet unfortunately for me, I found the majority of the performers were as wooden as the masks that adorned their faces.

Euripides’ play charts the fates of the women of Troy after their city has gone to ruin. Many of the women have been recently widowed and they are paralysed with fear that their remaining families will be taken away and enslaved by wicked masters. The protagonist of the piece is Queen Hecabe (Briony Rawle), stripped of her crown and dignity we find her downtrodden and collapsed in a heap on the floor. Pained to hear that her virginal daughter Cassandra has been forced to become Agamemnon’s concubine, and, as if this news was not tragic enough, she then learns that Polyxena, her youngest daughter, has been sentenced to a long and painful death. The former Queen laments their bleak fates, dreaded destinies that Hecabe herself feels weak and powerless to change.

Personally, I found the wide-eyed masks with parted lips and fixed aghast expressions a little eerie. Without the actors’ facial expressions to help the audience connect with the characters and gauge their emotions, the cast’s vocal intonations were placed in a position of upmost importance. Raphael Bar and James Unsworth, who played various male roles within the work, were guilty of lacking varied intonations and inflections; instead they resorted to monotone bellowing throughout the piece. Adopting this Brian Blessed-esque manner meant that although their speech could be heard clearly through the cumbersome masks, this was at the expense of any light and shade within any of their characterisation.

However, the one triumphant and stand out performance of the evening was Rawle’s portrayal of Hecabe. Her depiction of Hecabe’s despair at her own tragic and undignified demise was dynamic and tangibly heartfelt. That said, there was only so much that Rawle could do to carry an otherwise dense and lethargic production. At two hours plus a twenty minute interval, Women of Troy was an unnecessarily drawn out and tedious experience. In many ways it felt more like a lengthy classics lecture than an entertaining night out at the theatre. The only real positives that I took away from Chris Vervain Theatre’s interpretation of Euripides’ Greek tragedy were the live musical interludes and Rawle’s strong performance as Hecabe. Sadly, these brief glimmers were not enough to salvage an otherwise disappointing evening.

Street dancing fest at Sadler's Wells

With flashing strobe lights, well-known tunes thumping and a cast of supremely talented street dancers, hip-hop dance company Blaze certainly know how to throw a party. The diverse group of sixteen dancers have come together from all corners of the globe to create a ninety-minute extravaganza that showcases a wide variety of dance styles: from popping and locking to breakdancing and – much to my surprise – even a tap number thrown into the mix. With no clear narrative running through the show, the primary aim of this high-octane medley appears to be to demonstrate the versatility of Blaze as performers.

With a row of trainers running along the front of the stage, and a backdrop comprising of a series of white cabinets and drawers piled high, the cast of Blaze burst onto the stage through a series of unexpected doors within the set design. The opening number consists of short solos to establish each of their ‘characters’, followed by the entire ensemble performing a highly-synchronised sequence in a ‘V’ formation. After the opening dance they then divide into smaller groups of two or three to perform a series of disconnected sketches, which often revolve around a prop. For instance, there is one piece based on luminous gloves and another tenuously centred around a pair of headphones.

However, the bar is certainly raised when breakdancers Sunni Brummit, Virgil ‘Sky Chief’ Dey and Jeffrey ‘Machine’ McCann erupt into the space. The trios’ offerings are just the right blend of recognisable old-school moves, and new applause-worthy tricks. Just when you thought seeing somebody doing a no-handed backflip would be the most impressive move you would see all evening, ‘Sky Chief’ eclipses the aforementioned by sliding across a large portion of the Peacock Theatre’s stage on solely his head. The spirit of one-upmanship pulsates through the evening as every dancer in the show attempts to outdo the last.

Being half term, much of the audience consists of school-age children and, consequently, much of the humour in the pieces is quite slapstick in nature and clearly geared towards the young crowd. The night does seem to descend into the realm of pantomime during a moment of audience participation, which consists of a rap that the audience are encouraged to sing along to, copying a series simple food-based actions such as “chopping the ham”: a slightly bizarre digression that I found a little out-of-place in a street dance show, yet many of the younger audience members seemed to thoroughly enjoy the strange interlude of a rap-inspired dance.

Ever since dance troupes like Flawless and Diversity were given exposure on prime-time television, the popularity of street dance has undoubtedly grown, and consequently there is a large appetite for shows like Blaze. Although I enjoyed parts of the evening, choreographically the show plays it quite safe and doesn’t go far enough to set itself apart from its’ predecessors. By extension, it doesn’t really bring anything new to the street dance arena.

Free gourmet doughnuts certainly makes for a superior press night

This spring, Southwark Playhouse’s studio theatre plays host to the UK première of Tracy Letts’s play Superior Donuts. Dishevelled hippy Arthur Przybyszewski’s doughnut shop is struggling to stay afloat, especially since a Starbucks has opened just a few feet away from his shop ‘Superior Donuts’, which has been in his family for generations.

When Arthur (Mitchell Mullen) arrives at work to discover that Superior Donuts has been broken into, he understandably feels dejected and is all ready to give up and shut up shop – that is until young local boy Franco Wicks (Jonathan Livingstone) arrives on his doorstep in desperate need of a job. As Franco, Livingstone bursts onto the stage like a bouncy whipper-snapper brimming with ways to drum up customers for this failing business. Although Arthur isn’t enthused by his suggestions of a poetry night and stocking healthy alternatives, he decides to give him the job regardless. Despite being the complete antithesis of each other, Superior Donuts charts the surprising relationship between Arthur and Franco, from their strained relations as employee and employer to finally becoming firm friends with a mutual appreciation of home-made doughnuts.

Superior Donuts takes a little while to find its stride, as much of the opening dialogue relies too heavily on humour that derives from lazy racial stereotypes. That said, the piece does begin to warm up when all the other characters leave the stage except an enthusiastic Franco, who is trying and failing to discover more about what lies beneath Arthur’s jaded exterior. As a man of very few words, Arthur is enigmatic and –like Franco – the audience is keen to learn more about him and his past. Letts cleverly provides snippets of his back-story through a series of internal monologues that are interwoven into the action. These direct addresses touch on his proposal to his first wife, his father’s death and his estranged daughter whom he is reluctant to speak about at any great length. Mullen’s delivery is understated yet believable: the realism is so tangible that you can almost forget that you are watching a play. Instead it feels like you are listening to a real local shopkeeper recounting tales of yesteryear.

The premise of the play is very timely, as the plight of the independent trader struggling to compete with high street giants is a subject that is very rarely out of the news. It’s true that with large food chains such as Krispy Kremes dominating the sector it would appear that even the American sugary treat is under threat. As you would expect, the doughnuts are representative of wider themes such as Arthur’s heritage and family traditions. Although the main idea that runs throughSuperior Donuts is a simple one, it is still very effective and easy to relate to.

Superior Donuts is a dark comedy with a true heart and believable characters. What’s more, in case all this talk of doughnuts has left you craving some, gourmet doughnut company Glazed & Confused will be selling their wares during the interval for the entire run. Although it’s hard to say whether it is Arthur or Glazed & Confused who make the most superior doughnuts, I can vouch for the latter being rather scrumptious.

A quaint meander down memory lane - The Love Project

The Love Project is the product of a series of interviews with people from a wide variety of age brackets and pockets of society, quizzed on their attitudes towards love. The small cast of four comprises Michael Cusick, Rachel Dale, Toby Manley and Natasha Pring, who each bring to life the views of three or four of the interviewees. In this work of pure verbatim, the participants’ transcripts haven’t been altered in any way. Not only do the audience hear their tales in their own words, but we are also treated to hearing each of the individual’s quirks of speech: from the false starts to the numerous self-corrections, and even some nervous laughter. In their programme notes, Every Day theatre company states that it “focus[es] on magnifying everyday stories”, and with these quaint, heart-warming and honest accounts of love, that is exactly what it delivers.

Whilst the audience are taking their seats, a selection of the nation’s favourite love songs plays. The stage design is simple, with just four wooden chairs, a battered sofa and a selection of personal photographs suspended from the ceiling. What strikes me initially about The Love Projectis how well-paced it is and how seamlessly the transitions between characters occur. It is testament to their versatility as actors that Manley and Dale can swiftly switch from playing Bill and Cora, an elderly couple who have been married for 56 years, to the highly comical infantile brother and sister duo, Louis and Drew. We hear anecdotal snapshots of their relationships, such as the time that Cora refused to speak to Bill for three days after having a spat over which is the correct way to cut a sandwich. We also meet a rather meek retail worker called Andy, who proposed to his overbearing girlfriend Amy during the ad break of an episode of Big Brother. Although the subject matter of these 14 characters’ anecdotes is nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary, it still makes for engaging viewing. In The Love Project, director Ellie Browning has successfully created an intimate piece that almost feels like you have been invited into somebody’s home for a warm cup of tea, whilst they talk you through their family photo albums.

This piece of documentary-style theatre presents us with an array of couples and singletons who share their musings of what the elusive concept of love means to them – from tales of failed online dating, to one of my personal favourite characters, Myles, who comically once found himself dangling from a rooftop in the pursuit of love. There is no denying that this is a sweet and enjoyable way to spend an hour; however, I find it a little disappointing that the piece doesn’t build towards a climax of any sort. Instead it just seems to fizzle out, which is a real shame. In short,The Love Project is more of a quaint meander down memory lane with no clear destination.