Omar Elerian may just be the most exciting theatre director working these days, at least in London. His interpretation of Ionesco’s 20th century satire, Rhinoceros, is searingly relevant. A play about mass hysteria, groupthink, and the refusal to surrender, Elerian’s production is whimsical from the start, creating a world that is playful and silly, where tables float and people are caricatures of self interest. Where Berenger (an outstanding Șopé Dìrìsú) doesn’t fit in; he doesn’t look the same, know the choreography or where to stand, doesn’t understand the “rules”. This creates the perfect platform for the devolution of society; everyone else is playing by the rules, even the interlocutor (a brilliant Paul Hunter), moving in choreography, sharing opinions, movements, thoughts. And suddenly, only Berenger and Daisy remain….alone, isolated in their sanity. Sound like the way many of us feel right now?
Elerian’s updates to the text are seamless — only the giant Ionesco nerds like myself would notice the differences — and provide just the right balance of old references and new so that it doesn’t feel like we’re watching an “update” despite the clarity of commentary on 2025 Western civilisation. And I’d be remiss not to mention the exquisite choreography of the production; every movement and breath choreographed beautifully, so that the cast function as a living, breathing unit, of which Berenger sits outside. They are the Rhinoceros. We all are.
Manhunt @ Royal Court Theatre
Note - I saw this in early previews ahead of press night.
Robert Icke’s first original commission, and first appearance at the Royal Court, is a violent investigation of the true life story of a man in the North of England who was wanted for assault and murder, resulting in the longest manhunt in UK history.
In spite of its ties to real life, Icke’s production exists initially in a no-space; there is concrete and sliding doors reminiscent of a prison, but the space is stark white, wide open, and containing only collapsible furniture. It evokes feelings of a world you can’t trust, wherein characters and timelines overlap, move in and out of space, and even the furniture isn’t solid enough to trust. This quickly becomes potent when the central character Raoul (a brilliant Samuel Edward-Cook) loses control of his temper, throwing furniture across the space. The eruption of violence from this man is what we’re meant to expect — but Icke’s clever creation of an uncertain and untrustworthy physical space causes us to question the conditions that created this man.
That isn’t to say that the misogyny and violence of the central character is excused - indeed it is on display like a zoo animal at feeding time, ready for us to consumer and consider, but from a safe distance. Icke has Edward-Cook address the audience directly at times, quite surprisingly and as an affront, a consistent reminder that we’re watching this play out. We all know how it ends, yet are here to watch. Simple yet effective use of camera footage on specific heightened moments remind us of how our experience of these events is normally mediated, through a screen.
In a time when the conversation is ever more focussed on how society is failing young men by allowing them unfettered access to the dreaded “manosphere” and a dearth of positive role models and relationships, in the face of increasingly positive outcomes for their female counterparts, this play is necessary, it is urgent. While Netflix’ adolescence interrogates the knock on effects on those around a young boy who commits such an act, Manhunt holds more than the immediate family accountable — it is society as a whole who need to improve, yet Manhunt suggests no simple solutions. This play does not sit back and safely assess, but rather dives into the deepest end, without a life jacket. Well worth watching, but more importantly, worth reckoning with as individuals and as a wider society.
Container @ New Diorama Theatre
Container is a new polyphonic performance, leaning heavily on the audio experience with the performers creating a beautiful soundscape that layers voices, effects, and musical instruments. The script is interesting; the idea being that these voices overlap and bombard, at times only one, but at times sounds and voices overwhelming the listener, much in the manner that information in the digital ages bombards us during our waking moments. As a piece of theatre, it is at times highly effective, but at times lacking specificity in the direction and purpose, resulting in moments that shine, weighed down by moments that feel indulgent. This is in no part due to the performances of the 5 company members, each of which are quite interesting to watch, and demonstrate exceptional range and skill in their vocal performance. Their outstanding vocal performances were truly something to behold. The idea of performing sounds in such an onslaught while not new (this was the central concept of my own MA dissertation over 10 years ago in response to Great Reckonings in Little Rooms’ central argument) is executed in an interesting manner, leveraging technology and music to create the cacaphony aligned with our own day to day experiences, bringing voice to the loneliness, and the simultaneous feeling of being overwhelmed.
1965: Malcolm in Winter: A Translation Exercise - Theaster Gates @ White Cube Bermondsey
Theaster Gates’ latest exhibition at White Cube Bermondsey brings his typical juxtaposition of the personal and the political, the micro and the macro. Focussed primarily around Malcolm X and the Civil Rights Movement (specifically the more militant side of the Black Panthers) and how this work was carried across the world to a broader discussion of freedoms by two Japanese artists, the exhibition almost takes the form of archive. The video documentaries that are central to the exhibition serve to beautifully explain some of the objects — textures, materials, shapes — that are seen in the individual pieces around the gallery.
In particular, the use of everyday items as canvas, from roof shingles to fire hoses, from vases to pieces of wood and book cases, is quite stunning. The simplicity of the materials reminds the viewer of the personal nature of these huge political acts, and their repercussions.
A libation in Uncertain Times(2024)
Abstract Revolutionary Periodical Superstructure (I stole the Master’s library shelving and filled it with books) (2025)
The Uncanny Trilogy @ Colab Tower
This is a trilogy of improvised immersive operas; each takes place in a tunnel under Southwark Bridge, and uses a similar structure. 3 “sections” of ceremony, all of which are sung by the cast (improvised) and set the audience on an escape room style task. On the whole, the concept is fun (if a bit silly) however the drawn out execution of it (2.5 hours x 3!) is far too long for the content that is actually prepared, and quite reliant on the audience to infer or make up their own story, rather than play by the rules of this invented universe. Like a frustrating improv show, audience members resort to trying to be the most funny or outlandish, which while amusing, means the whole lacks drive and purpose. Furthermore, while it is advertised that the pieces stand alone, indeed they do not. It is unfortunate, as the performers are all clearly very talented, and the seed of the idea is strong….it is simply far too much time for the idea to have true meaning and engagement. Each part of the trilogy is considered below.
Come Bargain:
When the audience enter the tunnel for the first part, the rules of the space are explained, including safety and other considerations. The “guild” are required to sing, we are not, and there are tasks and activities with strict rules and consequences explained. The audience are invited to choose an activity, and spend the time working to solve riddles or create asks of the “uncanny thing” which is restrained at the far end of the tunnel. Initially, the stake feel high, as the audience try to solve issues affecting the local community, however as we move into the second and then third phases of the ceremony, there is no change to the stakes; indeed the scenarios we aim to solve get less engaging and serious, so it is difficult to remain engaged, despite lots of clever physical material. Further, moving between activities while invited, is quite tricky, as the rules of the new activity are not explained…resulting in audience members checking out somewhat, or returning to their first choice. The activities are fun, but lack drive and a reason to keep doing them, so the energy of the evening quickly dissipates, exacerbated by the interval after which the audience come back for more of the same.
Come Worship:
This second of the trilogy focussed on joy and worship, participants were offered the opportunity to create gifts for the uncanny king, and ask for blessings. It was interactive, without respite — there is no hiding or observing, with actors in your face, and the expectation that you will play along and make activities and objects. The instructions were quite murky, and the rules of the universe unclear; particularly if you had not attended the previous part of the trilogy, I think audience members would be lost. Furthermore, while there was much activity, the connections and actions lacked tension and purpose, we weren’t driving anywhere. Despite that ineffectiveness as a piece of theatre, the production did succeed in another area, which is creating connection. The individuals at the performance were clearly hungry for connection, collaboration, and debate, playing along with the production, often creating their own version of the rules of the world, which seemed to work to move things along, although again, rudderless without a clear objective, purpose, or goal to the evening.
Come Murder:
The third and final instalment of the trilogy, Come Murder was the least structured. Audience were brought into the tunnel, and immediately dove into the world....but with the least explanation of all the pieces of the trilogy. Audience members who had not been in previous performances were lost, and the clarity between the tasks for the participants was murky. This time, there was no ceremony, and only 2 parts — time to put restrictions or bring uses to the thing, and then time to debate over which to do. The first section was allotted too much time, and lacked sufficient structure to keep the audience engaged, and after some time several audience members ran out of ideas and purpose; they did stand around talking to one another (about the play) however had stopped interacting and engaging with the design and structure of the show. The second section was for a debate about what to do to the thing...however outside the thing’s death, the consequences and implications were weak, and the debate itself devolved into a rather loud shouting match at times, with playful but at times screeching voices. The mood on the whole was fun and playful, but again here, it lacked purpose and drive. It was a fun (if odd and silly) evening, but not exceptional theatre.
Paradise Lost (Lies Unopened Beside Me) @ Battersea Arts Centre
Lost Dog have remounted their renowned Paradise Lost 10 years on from its original production, with a new cast. Obviously the script, design, and choreography are outstanding — but they were 10 years ago. The new performer Sharif Afifi, however, is exceptional. It is always challenging for a performer to step in to a role that was originated for someone else, and Afifi does this with such effortlessness that you would believe he is the originator of the role.
The play begins with “beginning of show face”, an actor reading from the script, engaging with the audience, lights up. First impression may cause you to think this is a failure of performance, failure to embody, however as Afifi progresses and the piece moves into movement and music, it becomes clear that the awkwardness of the early moments were a distinct choice. His physical performance breathes out the choreography with ease, despite the visible effort, his linen shirt soaked in sweat. The play progresses, and we learn it isn’t just about Milton and Paradise Lost, but also about a man trying to create, and about our relationships with what we create, whether those creations are universes, other humans, or a work of art. What we create becomes unruly despite our best efforts — or indeed perhaps because of them, and the hubris to think we can control things.
In the chaotic world we’re situated in now, 10 years on from its premiere, this production feels all the more timely. Good ideas turn sour, beautiful things erode and fade, and ultimately we are ineffective. This sounds terribly drab but indeed the production is hopeful. Rain washes away the effort, the failure, the disappointment, and we go again.
Sisyphean Quick Fix @ Riverside Studios
This new script centres on two sisters grappling with their father’s alcoholism, coming to terms with how it affected their lives in ways they didn’t realise growing up, and how this is now crashing down on them and the family. The early moments of the script and performance build the relationship of the sisters well, and sets the convention for their video chats to be played out to the crowd. The sound design is a bit over engineered to create a realistic world, and this begins to get tired as the play enters into the more serious aspects of the script. The text and performances follow this same trajectory, which is too bad; there was an opportunity for a lovely tragicomic denouement but it was missed. There is nothing wrong with the production per se, there just isn’t anything new. Bettina Paris is immensely watchable, and I look forward to seeing her working in stronger material, or at least under stronger direction.
The Seagull @ Barbican
There is little that is nice about these people. Ostermeier’s new production of Chekhov’s The Seagull, adapted with Duncan Macmillan, breathes modern ennui and longing into a story over 100 years old. The characters in this play are petty, selfish, petulant, and buffoonish; at no point does Ostermeier try to make them good or admirable, and as a result, we get some exceptional performances from the exquisite cast.
The display of class cues to elicit understanding of the characters’ rank is notable; while these people endure one another, they certainly don’t (for the most part) like one another. Kostya (Kodi Smit-Mcphee) merely tolerates Masha (a pitch perfect Tonya Reynolds), despite her obsession with him. Masha openly disdains Simon (a brilliant Zachary Harris, who in his northern accent, armed with a guitar, is our window into the world).
Emma Corrin’s Nina is heartbreaking; the contrast between her first and second act selves is outstanding, and the thoughtful approach to her breakdown is really quite darkly beautiful. Where many would play Nina’s breakdown in broad melodramatic strokes, Corrin’s Nina appears to be crumbling before our eyes, a porcelain doll teetering at the edge of the shelf.
And what do we say about Trigorin? Tom Burke does not interpret him as an esthete, but rather as a boorish bro, who happened into writing. He is brutish and self centered, making Nina’s love of him more tragic, and his ability to forget about her, the little plaything, all the more believable.
Finally, Cate Blanchett’s Arkadina is a dream. She is a clown, almost bipolar in her swings between desperation for attention and brooding quiet. All the characters have their moments amplified by the microphones on stage, wherein they speak their performative thoughts into amplification, and for Arkadina these are unsurprisingly the most frequent, and the most haunting. The argument where she manipulates Trigorin specifically stands out, as does her breakdown with Kostya.
The willingness to step in and out of the fourth wall, a constant awareness of the act of performance and the presence of the audience makes this Seagull truly powerful. We are all actors, putting on a face, an act, to appear the way we want the world to see us. Some of us are just more aware of it than others.
Bitch Boxer @ Watford Palace Theatre
The 2012 play Bitch Boxer gets an update for 2025, with a fresh view of the young female boxer as a black and queer character. There is little need to change the text to achieve this, however this simple change breathes new life into the script, meaning that it doesn’t feel dated at all. Indeed the story of a working class girl, whose relationship with her father centres around her connection to sport feels even more relevant in the years since the Lionesses Euros win has invigorated a focus in women's sport.
The production is helmed by Prime Isaac in their first major theatre production as director; there is a vision at play here, and at times it comes together beautifully, however on the whole the direction is a bit uneven. It is clear which moments are clearly aligned versus those which felt a bit underdeveloped. This is unfortunate, as Prime has brought together an excellent actor, clever designer, and intelligent sound design — it just all doesn’t quite come together in a cohesive whole. Jodie Campbell is quite strong in the solo show, for her first stage performance, bringing a calm and nuanced performance. That said, the unevenness in the production as a whole is seen in her performance as well; while there are nice moments of giving her space to breathe and play, it also does mean that at times the production feels rudderless. This isn’t a discredit to Jodie’s work; she is engaging, funny, serious — and impressive, she skips and boxes like an athlete throughout the play.
What was strong, however, was this commitment to the community. Jodie is a Watford local, with her first stage performance, and in the Q&A following the show several audience members spoke up, commenting that they heard about the show on instagram or that they don’t normally go to the theatre. The local connection, centred around a stage newcomer, was really exciting to see, and clearly created a moment for the community.
A Knock On The Roof @ Royal Court Theatre
“Why do you warn us before you kill us?”
Khawla Ibrahim’s solo show at The Royal Court explores a woman’s life, restrained by the realities of living in a war zone with a small child. Told through direct address, engaging the audience, the protagonist, Mariam, shares her anxieties. When the knock on the roof — a smaller bomb intended to warn residents of a bigger bombing incoming — happens, she has 5 minutes. How far can you run in 5 minutes? This isn’t a question of competition but of survival; she trains through the night, running, carrying heavy objects to prepare herself, timing how far she can get, her increasing strength. Thinking about the practicalities; what if the knock comes while she is in the shower? or while she is asleep? or going to the bathroom?
The production’s pacing creates this tension for the audience, contrasting relaxed, calm, chat, interaction with the audience and stories of her life with panicked moments of preparatory timed runs, and eventually the real thing.
It is a sobering watch. One which reminds the audience that the people in Gaza are people just like us, with anxieties and worries, hopes and regrets. Ibrahim’s performance is beautifully nuanced, calm and physically expressive.
This is a thoughtful production and well worth seeing.
Couture @ Louvre
In this first of its kind exhibition, The Louvre in Paris showcases couture pieces amongst the objects in its decorative arts galleries. So amongst the ornate chairs, clocks, cabinets, and rugs, there are gowns, bags, and shoes. Individual pieces are on display in these contexts, highlighting the relationship between beautiful objects that we surround ourselves with, and the beautiful objects we cover ourselves with.
There are many highlights, but a few stand out — the Christian Dior (above) displayed on a massive mirrored floor quite literally takes your breath away. The dramatic crumples and shapes of the skirt reflect at all angles, blue and white in contrast to the reds and blacks of the objects around them with clean lines. It is hard to describe the experience of walking into the space and seeing this piece.
This Rick Owens gown with its folded silk and headdress transcends time in a room of soft florals and cream coloured silks. It is new and yet so clearly related to the old.
And finally, this Schiaparelli, reflecting not only the stars in the shapes around the room, but even the way the sun comes in the window and the overhead lighting reflects on the mirrors. Pure magic.
If you’re brave enough to fight the crowds at the Louvre, it is worth it to get to this quiet and magical exhibition.
Jordan Brookes Fontanelle @ Soho Theatre
Jordan Brookes’ Fontanelle is a stand up show and a musical at the same time; it centres around the question of masculinity and what it means to be masculine, explored around the premise of The Titanic, and the fact that women and children were rescued first. Playing with the form of a standup comedy show, the production also has a chorus of 5 musical theatre performers who interject throughout. At times the interjections are funny and clever, and at times they feel like the concept is being shoehorned into the standup. The show works best when Brookes interacts with the audience, however in order to stay with the convention some of these seem to be rushed, rather than living in a chaotic performance space. Beyond this, the production is uneven — it plays with pacing, but unconvincingly. It plays with the edges of comedy, but without payoff. And it plays with performance, dipping a toe into failed performance, but without properly achieving this — and perhaps even unintentionally demonstrating failure in performance.
This all sounds like it was awful — it wasn’t. There were definitely moments of humour and clever insight about the bind between equality and chivalry....but it all felt undercooked, which meant that it veered into undertones of misogyny to get its laughs.
Glenn Ligon: All Over The Place at @ Fitzwilliam Museum Cambridge
American artist Glenn Ligon has been granted free reign by the Fitzwilliam, to provide commentary on the absence of Black and Brown faces and perspectives in a museum which in other areas showcases objects from these very people — the spoils of colonialism.
His work connects through language — with a stark visual representation right on the front of the building. A repetition, a dehumanisation, in large white neon glaring in the daylight.
As you move through the gallery, Ligon’s pieces are peppered throughout the rooms. Most powerfully, his series Black Suns appear all over a room, finding negative space and calling our attention to what isn’t seen, what isn’t there. They are like cobwebs creeping into the space from the corners. Travelling through the main rooms with these smaller pieces, you come to an end room where the largest pieces exist, a room of enormous pieces from his Untitled (I Feel Most Colored When I Am Thrown Against A Sharp White Background) and Mirror overwhelming with their commentary on the experience of Blackness in spaces such as these. It is powerful and moving to see the aggressively layered black ink, words blurring and yet filled with meaning and power. The layers of words representative of the years of oppressive language.
Finally, Ligon's most powerful installation is in a long room where he has removed the paintings from the walls. The sun-dyed walls show the outlines of the paintings which were there before, and Ligon keeps a single painting with a single Black body, and one of his own Suns positioned as a star. The room is filled with ghosts and echoes.
Save The Princess @ Hen & Chickens Theatre
Save the Princess is a choose your own adventure style play, where the audience have agency over the choices of the lead character, Princess Plum, through a clever app that works similarly to online quizzes or polls. The choices of the audience then dictate which world the actors will find themselves in. The actors are adept at jumping into the surprise scenes, and the composition of the piece is clever. The performances, direction, and overall production, however, fail to sizzle. They are passable, but nothing remarkable — it could have been shorter, less shouty, and tighter in terms of timing and pace to properly evoke the urgency that video games create. There was an interesting point of view on the absence of female voices in the video game universes, and the inherent misogyny in these spaces which was smart; I would have like to see the play twist the knife on this just a little more and lean in, rather than entertaining us with just a sprinkle of provocative thought.
When The World Turns @ Southbank Centre
When The World Turns is a multisensory experience performed within a living performance space. Audience members are welcomed in small groups into a circle of plants and gentle lights, under a canopy. There is a soundtrack that underscores the whole experience, which is not a story per se, and does not include text, but rather focusses on attention to all of the other modes of communication — sound, touch, song, breath, and beyond. The production is visually sumptuous, with scents and things to touch, and most notably, the performers focus on a handful of audience members, allowing them the space and time to interact with the performance on their own terms and in their own time.
Sound plays an integral role; with the aforementioned underlying soundtrack, sounds emerge from different areas and speakers that are placed around the circe, and at times move, with ingenious use of fishing rod style capacity to raise and lower, and then also through the performers themselves — and at times the audience. It is immensely playful and surprising for the audience, with sounds coming from everywhere. This could result in feeling overwhelming however the gentle care with which this is done make it peaceful, even in moments of tension. Animals are created from objects you would find around any house, lending that sense of play and creating the feeling you could re-create this in your own imagination at home — I couldn’t help but think of the audience wanting to return home and recreate the elephant with a bit of tube, or the lightning bugs with tiny flashlights.
The result is an experience that encourages us to slow down, look, and listen — and simply breathe along with the plants beside us. What is truly remarkable is the way that access is woven into the production at every turn; it never feels like an afterthought or an add on, but instead it is at the core of the creation. Creating this space for individuals is of course incredible for the target audience - under 12’s of all abilities — but you could see the delight and surprise of their adult caregivers, and even of those of us observing from outside the circle. It is theatre which is intentionally slow and deeply thoughtful, almost meditative; you emerge from the hour filled with a comfortable joy and appreciation for simply being.
I found myself as an outside observer wanting to be inside the circle; for me this is the mark of a production that is hitting the mark. I’m not the target audience and yet wanted to be embedded in it.
My Mother's Funeral @ The Yard Theatre
My Mother’s Funeral is a play about grief, but moreso it is a play about class, particularly about the relationships ambitious young people from working class backgrounds have with their families, and with the middle class environments they find themselves in. Abigail is a young playwright whose mother has just died; a working class woman who raised her two children on benefits, her mum did not have any money to leave her, so Abigail is faced with the financial burden of a funeral and the social burden of her feelings of inadequacy around her inability to provide one, and the anxiety around a council funded funeral and the lack of dignity that may hold. She chooses to cave, to make the art that is demanded of her as a working class artist — poverty porn — to hopefully earn the money to pay for her mother’s funeral.
The play weaves between spaces and times in a really clever way, with the 3 actors shifting between characters. With only 3 actors a host of places, times, and characters are shown, and the structure mirrors the overlapping worlds Abigail is facing, as she unsuccessfully attempts to simultaneously sell her personal story, but keep her personal life and the shame she feels about it separated. What really struck me (as an artist from a working class background) was the explorations around love — what does it mean to love your children and express that love when money isn’t an option? One scene in particular was stark in its criticism of both the middle class inability to understand love without finances, and the working class inability to fund love. The friction between these two points of view was present and really thoughtfully articulated through Abigail’s struggle. It is refreshing to see such an honest examination of the working class experience, and in particular the experience of the children of working class parents entering middle class spaces, where despite their intelligence and passion, they will always feel like outsiders.
The staging is simple yet layered, using the play about a play within a play (how meta) to create additional meaning in the spaces and relationships of objects. Simple moments are both hyper real and clearly theatricalised. At times the performances are a bit shouty where they would benefit from nuance, but overall the pacing and staging were very good as were the performances — in particular the physical work of the performers.
Small Forward - Belarus Free Theatre @ Barbican Pit
Working with famous Belarusian basketball player Katya Snetsyna, Belarus Free Theatre’s latest production, KS6: Small Forward, focusses on Katya’s experience of coming to the realisation of the atrocities her government commits against its citizens, and being ostracised and outcast herself after standing up against the dictatorship, speaking out, and coming out as homosexual.
The production deploys Belarus Free Theatre’s trademark playful stagecraft, this time framing the production around a basketball game, including a kiss cam, live DJ, and half time basket competition. While it is fun and engaging, the production as a whole doesn’t quite hang together — which is unfortunate, as the story is compelling, and important to raise awareness.
The use of music was clever, with the live DJ Blanka Barbara not only hyping up the crowd as if at a basketball game, but then also live mixing the underscoring for the entire play. The design used the tools of a gym and basketball game to create multiple spaces and evoke feelings which were at times really powerful, but also at times didn’t quite have the desired impact.
All in all not a bad production, just not their best — which is unfortunate as the subject matter deserves attention. While led by Snetsyna who is an engaging person (she lit up in the pre-show chat) most moments of her as an actor fell flat — which is fair for a first time actor leading such a huge story. Additionally, I really liked the touch of sharing images and QR to write to prisoners, but although it did tie in to an element of the story (when she speaks of her friend who was imprisoned) the link feels tenuous — and again here I just wanted it to connect a little more deeply.
The Years @ Harold Pinter Theatre
Adapting an epic novel which spans multiple decades is no easy feat, and in particular, one which follows the same woman through phases of her life. Eline Arbo’s adaptation tackles this with seeming ease; with 5 actors portraying the woman at each phase of her life, while also embodying the other people and events in her orbit, there is no artifice of realism. The production’s clever staging brings to life major events, all while making it quite clear we are watching a performance.
Each of the 5 women is given some properly chunky material to work through, the emotional baggage we pick up as we age, the memories of the past. There is no weak link in this production, across the script, performers, direction, and design. It is clearly well conceived — so much so that it makes me wonder whether there could be another production that would do it justice.
As you can imagine, covering the life of a woman who was born during WW2 through the many radical shifts of female rights and public existence in this time, from illegal back room abortions to the feminist movement and increase of divorce rates covers a lot of ground. In what definitely didn’t seem like the first time (from the swift professionalism of stage management and the exceptional technique of the performers to pause and then drop back in) the show had to be stopped due to someone in the audience being overwhelmed by the abortion scene. While it is risque as far as West End performance, it was brilliant to see materials that was modern, feminist, and intellectually challenging on a West End stage.
A very good production of a good script - definitely worth your evening.
... blackbird hour @ Bush Theatre
...blackbird hour is told primarily through Eshe, a young woman battling demons. We see her primarily anchored to her bed, a place of comfort but also one of enablement. Voiceover haunts and interacts with her heavily at first, and then with a lighter touch as she is visited by two lovers, each of whom represent a connection to one of the sides of her. The text is delightfully poetic; sharp and soft at the same time, moving through the story with intense reality, heightened through the language to align with Eshe’s heightened state, her struggle. As it shifts further into Eshe’s mind, reality shifts. Where in earlier scenes Eshe is the one who is outside normality, while Ella and Michael are grounded, later on the tone shifts so that we experience from Eshe’s point of view, Ella and Michael becoming exaggerated and robotic, and the experience of time expanded yet contracted.
While this is not babiyre bukilwa’s first production, it was their first play — which makes the quality of the language and layers of the story all the more astounding. This is a masterful piece of writing that gets inside mental illness in a truly unique way.
Evlyne Oyedokun is powerful as Eshe. She moves through rippling emotional shifts effortlessly, shaping the manic and depressive moments with care. Despite rarely leaving the bed for a significant period of the play, she is physically dynamic and engaging, embodying Eshe with every ounce of her being. This is a thoughtful, nuanced, and challenging performance of difficult content and text.
One element that will stick with me, however, is the inclusion of surtitles. Where many productions will include these, projected across the top in plain colours, never moving...this production made them a part of the experience of the play. Words appeared in different fonts, colours, and positions in alignment with who was speaking them, which was ingenious to create the different voices visually. But most importantly, the pace of words appearing and disappearing had a powerful effect; at times the delay versus what was spoken aided in tense moments, creating the effect of feeling the character’s mouth was racing ahead of their thoughts as we often do in arguments....or conversely, when a word or phrase remained projected during a pause, it quite literally hung in the silence, echoing at us through the visual representation. This was an incredibly powerful choice to not only make accessibility a part of the production, but arguably a part of the storytelling itself.
Five Lines @ Barbican Pit for Mime London Festival
Five Lines bills itself as micro cinema; live projected and manipulated models of miniature objects, with a mixture of live and pre recorded sound as well as video, and some moments of live action. The seed of the idea was interesting; a couple meet and fall in love, then there is a natural disaster and they are forced to live in a shady underground hierarchical world where their work is exploited, and their interests (he a musician, she an activist) diverge. The cast were responsible for manipulating the scenes and lights, as well as the cinematography. There was a lot going on, a lot of ideas, but rarely did they feel like they held together for more than a moment or two.
Choices around how elements were used, and the scale of action, or even what was live/manipulated/pre recorded felt arbitrary and confusing. Indeed even choices around when to see the manipulation of miniatures and when it was “magic” were inconsistent and arbitrary. This isn’t to detract from the skill of the performers, or the seed of the idea…it simply did not translate into anything compelling or meaningful.