Down & Out In Paris and London, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

George Orwell’s first full-length book, Down and Out in Paris and London, documents the Eton graduate’s foray into a life of artistic poverty in the 1920’s. About 80 years later, Polly Toynbee spent a period of time living on the minimum wage in London to write her book, Hard Work: Life in Low-Pay Britain. Writer and director David Byrne (not that one), deconstructing and interweaving these two books, creates a hard-hitting new play that confronts contemporary notions of social progress by demonstrating that experiences of a life in poverty have not improved, and “the system” created to support some of society’s most vulnerable people is inherently flawed.

A finely tuned, energetic ensemble of six multi-role a huge range of characters across London and Paris; only Richard Delaney as narrator George Orwell plays one part. His character consistency is the linchpin that holds the Paris story together, countered by Carole Street’s impressively performed Polly Toynbee. Mike Aherne, Andrew Strafford-Baker and Stella Taylor play a diverse array of smaller characters spread across both time periods using accents and costume to distinguish them. There is potential for confusion what with the constantly alternating worlds, but these three actors support clarity and understanding. They are also clearly talented performers; the only downside is that they didn’t have larger roles to really sink their teeth into.

Structurally, Byrne’s script is sound with clear transitions and sufficient exposition. He skillfully avoids audience confusion despite the constant switching between the two different settings. Polly and George embark on similar character journeys, albeit with slightly differing initial aims, but end with the same deeper understanding of society’s invisible working poor. The play is narration-heavy, restricting meaningful character interactions to unsatisfying short scenes. It also can feel more like a lecture than a performance. The fragmentary nature successfully drives the message home, particularly as adjacent scenes in the different settings focus on identical topics, including the bureaucracies of job hunting, flat hunting, and work environments. The play is robust and important enough that it deserves to be lengthened, which would allow for more development of the characters and scenes that are already present. Further emphasis on the individual human lives affected by crushing poverty will also generate further gravitas and audience empathy.

Down & Out In Paris and London returns to London’s New Diorama this spring (where Byrne is artistic director). Hopefully its message will have a wide reach and move people to rally in support of the working poor, particularly in the face of the government’s promised brutal welfare cuts. Its message is a vital one backed by a good script and great performances that deserves more attention.


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Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 17 August: Part Two

Hailing from LA, Waitless is a semi-autobiographical play about newlyweds Shelly and Trent, from the American south but living in New York. Trent works in finance and Shelly in TV production, but when Trent’s job transfers him to London, Shelly gives up her career to go with him. Told through heightened, contemporary farce with moments of sincerity, Waitless shows that the cultural gap between the UK and US is bigger than you think.

Actors Jessica Moreno and Andrew Boyle play all of the stereotyped characters, with the primary focus on Shelly’s emotional struggle and adjustment from career woman to housewife. Moreno seems to be the stronger performer here, but she has more to work with. Because they are using such a heightened performance style, moments of truthfulness are rare. A more naturalistic performance style would better serve the story’s message and give the actors meatier roles to explore, however both performers are extremely energetic and they have some lovely stand-alone scenes together.

These scenes make nice set pieces, but as a cohesive whole, the play could use a bit more substance. Shelly needs more intimate, honest moments alone with the audience when Trent is away for work to give the script a bit more weight. The ending is also abrupt and open, which doesn’t show a completed character arc. There is certainly scope for the play to be lengthened. There are heaps of jokes and references that I appreciate as an American who also relocated to the UK, but this narrows the play’s target audience down to a small demographic. It’s telling that I was the only person in the audience who chuckled at some of Shelly’s digs at British culture: British people won’t relate to her frustration, and neither will Americans who have never lived abroad. Any immigrant will be able to empathise with her situation though, at least in part.

Overall, it’s a great issue to look at onstage. Immigration is a hot topic in many countries, and the immigrant experiences in the news focuses on an entirely different demographic. Those who quietly relocate to work or study largely go unnoticed, often battling the cultural adjustment alone and unsupported. The script needs some adjustment in order to truly capture the emotional upheaval and rediscovery that comes from this momentous life change, but it is heading in the right direction.


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Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 17 August: Part One

Today should have been a great day. A morning show in Summerhall, a venue that consistently stages innovative work, followed by an afternoon play affectionately looking at a topic I very much relate to. Both Current Location by FellSwoop Theatre and Waitless by Cailin Harrison have some good ideas and individual moments, but individual production elements don’t quite fit together to form a cohesive whole.

Current Location is an adaptation of the Japanese play by Toshiki Okada, set in a coastal village, presumably in England, with a minimalist script and design. It feels quite Scandinavian (which suits the simile I will use shortly). Four women anxiously rehearse for a performance, then another arrives who disrupts the natural chemistry of the group. She is soaked from a sudden downpour from the blue, “bad luck cloud” that recently appeared over the village. Its appearance effects the entire population: animals are behaving strangely and people are no longer talking to each other. Rumours abound of a coming disaster; the women we see are split – some believe them, others don’t. As the play progresses, climate change intensifies as does character conflict. Some believe nature will soon cause the village to disappear, others refuse that it’s a possibility.

The premise and climate change message are certainly interesting, but the execution doesn’t make sufficient impact. There is no set and no stage lights, and the room is too big for this intimate piece. The traverse staging and naturalistic performance style chosen by director Bertrand Lesca causes lines to be completely lost if the performers’ backs are to the audience. Some vital moments were missed completely because they couldn’t be heard. It is a frustrating experience that would work better on film. The classical score that accompanies, whilst beautiful, also doesn’t improve the volume issue. Despite the naturalistic performance, the actors sit in the audience when they are off stage (sometimes), creating an inconsistent style.

The production rather reminded me of Ikea. Minimalist Scandinavian design, looks great on paper, but once constructed it doesn’t hold up very well. Other than the volume, the performances are good and character arguments are satisfying explosions of pent up frustration. Florence (Caitlin Ince) is the leader of the bunch who violently insists on maintaining the staus quo and that the village will be fine, of course. Hannah (Pia Laborde Noguez) is the late arriving disruptor who is quickly dealt with. The other three, Eva (Charlotte Allan), Jayne (Emma Keaveney Roys) and Elisabeth (Roisin Kelly), capture the uncertainly of a world on the brink of disaster. A script of five female roles is certainly commendable but their microcosmic conflicts don’t carry the gravitas of a major world issue. Like a piece of Ikea furniture that’s full of promise in the catalogue, it is disappointingly insubstantial and the component parts don’t quite fit together properly once out of the package and assembled.


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Tether, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Mark is an aspiring Olympian who just isn’t good enough to make Team GB’s marathon team. Becky is a completely blind marathon runner who needs a guide when she runs. Tether isn’t about running, though. Two deeply flawed individuals find themselves in an unusual relationship where they must navigate clashing aspirations, inherent selfishness and potholes.

Playwright Isley Lynn’s script is some of the best new writing I’ve seen in a long time. The characters are intricately detailed and exquisitely sculpted with enough contrasting goals to create natural dramatic conflict without excess. Using Mark’s girlfriend and Becky’s running club mate as a point of reference in their conversation prevents the play from becoming just about Mark and Becky, placing it in the real world even though we only ever see the two of them. The story’s dramatic arc is textbook, but hugely effective with a satisfying resolution. My only issue is the length – this play simply must be lengthened so the story can be continued. I was so engrossed that the abrupt ending was frustrating.

Lee Drage’s and Maisie Greenwood’s performances are similarly excellent; the characters are a gift for any performer. Considering they are actually running for a large part of the play, their endurance is admirable. Both embark on a journey of softening and discovery: Mark realises how selfish he is; Becky gradually drops her prickly guard and is able to trust Mark. The massive argument they barrel towards is a necessary and inevitable wake up call for both of them. Also commendable is casting visually impaired Greenwood as Becky. Director Bethany Pitts uses simple but effective staging and the clever use of harnesses allows for a realistic run and an obvious metaphor.

This is an unmissable new play from a Royal Court graduate that offers insight into a world rarely considered before the London Paralympics 2012. It is a great step towards increasing the visibility of disabled performers and deserves further attention beyond Edinburgh Fringe.


The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Edinburgh Festival Fringe, 13 August: Part Two

Camilla Whitehill’s Where Do Little Birds Go? tells the true story of Lisa Prescott, an 18-year-old nightclub hostess kidnapped by the Kray twins in 1966. Re-named Lucy Fuller, Jessica Butcher tells Prescott’s story through this harrowing solo performance. Humour and music are used to break up the horror of Fuller’s imprisonment with an escaped murderer who rapes her for hours on end, but some of the music transitions feel forced. Lucy loves singing; Butcher shares this love with gusto. She also wonderfully and ever so slowly transitions from the bright eyed, bushy tailed girl from Hastings who moved to London with hopes, dreams and £5 in her pocket, to a quietly streetwise, mature young woman.

Whitehill’s script contains some witty one-liners but doesn’t shy away from graphic incidents, like Lucy adventures as a nightclub hostess who offers “afters” to her best clients, and her experiences at the hands of the Krays. Justin Nardella’s set is Winston’s, the Mayfair club where Lucy worked before her capture and after her release. It cleverly uses sturdy levels to break up Fuller’s movements, but some of director Sarah Meadows’ blocking feels arbitrary. Meadows does have a good sense of storytelling, but struggles with the script’s abrupt ending. The audience never learns the how Lucy regained her freedom, though Butcher’s excellent performance draws attention away from this issue. Overall, this is a good offering from Duckdown Theatre and Heavy Weather Theatre that with further script development could be an excellent play.

https://i0.wp.com/lovelettershome.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Love-Letters-Summerhall.jpgMy last production of the day is Katharine Rose Williams Radojičić’s Love Letters to the Home Office, which receives a one-off table reading at Summerhall. This is one of the most important plays of contemporary British theatre. Not because of innovation or style, but content: it exposes the consequences of the 2012 Home Office legislation that breaches the human rights of an estimated 50,000 families in the UK.

This new ruling states that in order for a UK citizen to bring their non-European spouse into the country, the UK partner must earn a minimum of £18,600 a year or have £62,500 in savings. With travel and technology connecting people unlike that in past generations, couples forming from all corners of the globe are becoming more and more common. The income requirement discriminates against the working poor, though. It means that if the UK partner earns the minimum wage, they must work 60 hours a week. People who work in many jobs vital to UK societal function would not be able to living in the UK with their non-EEA partners. Such roles include teaching assistants, cleaners, caretakers, administrators, technicians, support workers, receptionists, and so on. The non-EEA partner’s income and savings are not considered in the application. Basically, if you are poor, you better fall in love with someone that is a European citizen or you will not be able to live together as a married couple unless you leave the UK.

Love Letters to the Home Office uses verbatim theatre from real-life people affected by this ruling. It is a politically charged play with a clear agenda: to spread the word about this home-wrecking Tory ruling. The stories are heart rending. A little boy stranded with his mum in America calls his Samsung tablet Dada. A single mum who can’t earn the required income because she is caring for her daughter must wait until her daughter’s old enough to go to school before increasing her working hours. A woman from the Philippines is unable to attend her husband’s funeral in the UK because her visa application had been rejected. These stories go on and on. There’s also a lot of factual information in the script that quotes from government legislation and academic studies amongst the actual stories. I struggle to imagine a dynamic staging and want to hear more first-hand accounts, but the script content is still hugely powerful and a motivational call to action.

The programme contains advice on how to engage politically if you are moved to act. It also has links to the project’s website, with many more accounts from people affected by this law. The website also allows for contributions, which opens the play to potential of constant change. The script could alter with every performance in order to provide a voice for these oppressed people who did nothing more than fall in love with a non-European whilst earning less than £18,600 a year.


The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Heresy of Love, Shakespeare’s Globe

web.phpSor Juana is a great writer of plays and poetry known throughout Mexico, or ‘New Spain’ as it’s called in the 1600s. She is a scholar with progressive views on women’s rights and unafraid of expressing them. Juana has also committed herself to the prayerful life of a convent nun. Newly appointed Bishop Santa Cruz seems supportive of her unconventional activities, but the older, more conservative Archbishop Aguiar y Sejas from Spain adamantly opposes her. Her father confessor, Fray Antonio, balances precariously between the two men’s views as Juana faces the risk of a heresy charge and the Inquisition. Outside the convent walls, there is conflict between the church and the secular court and within the convent and the plague is coming. Heresy of Love is a play that operates on many levels both microcosmic and globally. It is blatantly feminist but also looks at how horribly women can treat each other, male conflicting attitudes towards women, and confronts issues within the Catholic church. The script captures the style of Spanish Golden Age plays: deception, politics, religion, danger, love and downfall are present in this intimate and moving play by Helen Edmundson.

An austere, black, metal structure partitions the length of The Globe’s stage between its dominating columns, hinting at the demure, ever-present convent walls. Against the richly detailed paintwork of The Globe and giant canvas prints of a religious painting I probably ought to know, it creates an ominous clash. It also blocks off the back of the stage and access around one of the pillars, but director John Dove and designer Michael Taylor have extended the thrust well into the audience to compensate. Though the set looked lovely and delicate despite its size, there is no need to cover and block off the back of the stage; it is a set in and of itself. Modifying the stage space, while able to give directors more freedom, alters the unique features of this playing space. In this case, the figure-of-eight path around the columns that supports conflict and tension is lost and the actors are placed deep into the round space. The actors are often stationary and so far forward that energy occasionally dips.

Nevertheless, all performances are excellent and, typical of Globe casts, the ensemble is close and completely in tune to each other. Naomi Frederick is a bold, confident Juana with the grounded calm of unwavering faith. Her reduction to a broken victim is heart rending. Her slave Juanita (Sophia Nomvete) provides wonderful comic relief though deliciously funny one-liners. The priests (Patrick Driver as Antonio, Anthony Howell as Bishop and Phil Whitchurch’s Archbishop) complement each other well, embodying distinct characters that capture the humanity behind the robes and inspire hatred from their treatment of Juana. Howell’s duplicity is unpredicted, creating a deeply conflicted character you love to hate. The only casting issue is a blatant lack of diversity. In a play set in Mexico with characters both native and Spanish, there is a glaring lack of Hispanic actors.

Heresy of Love premiered in 2012 at the RSC, but this is its first production in London. It is an accessible, relevant, gem of a play paying homage to Sor Juana, a genuine historical figure. These characters from the past with contemporary relevance are at home at The Globe and remind us that despite the progress we have made in women’s rights, there is still work to be done and we would do well to treat each other nicely along the way, despite any inner demons we battle.

Note: the performance reviewed was a preview.


The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

 

Greywing House, everything theatre

“One-person shows are extremely hard to create and perform effectively. It’s easy for them to be too long, too boring, too bizarre, too indulgent or too lots of other things. Greywing House uses poetic writing and language, puppetry and movement to craft a narrative that gradually exposes the otherworldly realities of coastal Greywing House and its proprietor, Miss Amelia…

“Miss Amelia is the epitome of polite restraint, akin to a 1950’s housewife…Mary Beth Morossa, the creator of the show, plays her with detail and sensitivity.

“The play mostly consists of lengthy monologues where we learn about Miss Amelia’s unfortunate family history…Most captivating are two tales told through puppetry…These are the most visual aspects of the show and excellent examples of storytelling…

“Morossa has an obvious gift for writing. She uses vivid imagery and poetry to draw in the audience. She tells the story clearly and with an effective narrative structure. There are moments of surprise and ambiguity that leave the audience questioning what is real and what is the product of madness. However, it is slow to develop…

“This is a one-person show that is not without potential but still needs development. Having debuted at the London Horror Festival last year, its creepiness works any time of year…”

Read the entire everything theatre review here.

Clap Hands, Hackney Showroom

CLAP HANDS - Promo Image colourThere are always multiple perspectives on an individual’s actions within an event. At Hackney Showroom, one of the newest London fringe venues that oozes industrial hipster chic, Pluck. Productions drives this home with a dense, character-driven one act. In a tiny studio space that only seats 20 people, Clap Hands by Aaron Hubbard poses questions about human behaviour and cause and effect. Can children be inherently disturbed? Should they be locked away for endangering others? Does over-reactionary imprisonment for childish behaviour cause derangement? Or, are we all just pure evil?

Ana (EJ Martin) and Gogol (Philip Honeywell) are brother and sister, kept in a basement bedroom by their mother. Martin convincingly plays young Ana without generalising or playing at being a child. She imbeds the innocence, spontaneity and obsessions in her characterisation, which is an excellent contrast to Honeywell’s creepy, calculating teenaged Gogol. Gogol has an obvious agenda that Ana doesn’t see, so she is easily manipulated into carrying out his insidious plans for freedom. The adult Detective Olyphant (Jeremy Drakes) is the sole representative of the wider community who hints at past offenses that led to Ana and Gogol’s confinement for the last 15 years. As he slowly questions the children, the audience begins to wonder what is real and what is the product of manipulation. Are the adults tyrannical, or are the children? The length of imprisonment also brings Ana’s age into question. Was she born into it recently, or has isolation from a young age kept her in a childish state? A horrifying ending effectively places blame with all parties, showing that juvenile crime, justice and society’s treatment of “The Other” are all complex issues with many sides to each individual case.

Even though the play only runs at an hour and a quarter, it packs numerous interrelated themes. Despite this, it isn’t over-saturated. The excellent performances and energy keep the first half of the play building nicely until the climactic middle when Ana carries out a crime Gogol planned without understanding what she’s doing or the consequences. From this point, the second half is slower. Olyphant’s investigations gradually reveal more of the characters’ history, but the slowing pace causes attention to waver, determining the first half as the stronger. A couple of Neil LaBute-style shocks enhance the thread of human depravity that runs through the piece, but the ending removes it from any contemporary British reality. It feels firmly 1970’s – 1980’s until the final scene, then becomes something not quite dystopian. The disorientation it causes could be a deliberate choice by the writer, but it does eliminate cultural context. The shock is effective, but removing the specific setting weakens the message about societal decay.

Despite the additional questions the play raises at the end, it is otherwise an excellent piece of writing with a stellar cast. Pluck. Productions are a prime example of the just how good theatre can be when experienced practitioners decide to make the work they want to do rather than relying on others to create work for them.


The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.

Pieces, Rosemary Branch Theatre

web.phpI’ve seen theatre that seeks to raise awareness about all sorts of issues. Racism, classism, social justice, particular moments in history, individuals, you name it. I hadn’t seen a play about organ transplants and donation until Spare Parts Theatre Company’s one-person Pieces. Founded by actor and transplant patient Steven Mortimer, Spare Parts both raises awareness about issues surrounding organ transplants and fundraises for several related charities. Pieces tells the stories of six different people affected by organ failure and the need for a transplant. Mortimer performs six separate, extended monologues demonstrating that organ failure can hit any age, class or body type, causing life to stand still until that organ is found. Mortimer effectively plays a range of characters in scripts by a few different writers that vary in quality, but maintains audience focus for the 50-minute show and succeeds in reminding audiences about the importance of organ donation.

Piece 1: a Cockney ex-taxi driver sits in the back of a black cab on his way to hospital for a double cornea transplant, chatting incessantly to the unseen driver. His fear of death is evident in his regular conversation diversions to what it must have been like processing towards your hanging at Tyburn. Some of the topic transitions are rather jerky, but Mortimer smooths them over as best as he can. The ending also terminates abruptly and quickly; some time for the character’s reflection would have also given the audience additional processing time.

Piece 2: This is the weakest of the six pieces. The monologue is framed around a man watching his twin brother Jono run a 5k in preparation for the marathon. A year ago, this was unthinkable. Periodically, we hear a group of runners go past, but Jono isn’t there. The sections where he is waiting tend to ramble, but the ending is lovely even though a bit sentimental.

Piece 3: Johnny is a character similar to the visually impaired taxi driver in piece one; Mortimer struggles to differentiate the two. To add more space between them, this piece could have come later in the production, providing stronger contrast. He’s in an AA meeting sharing his life story. This piece becomes much more dynamic by focusing on Johnny’s drinking and homelessness and less on him needing a liver transplant. His emotional reunion with his parents after fifteen years also helps broaden the story; these wide themes indicate this monologue could develop into a play with additional characters and plot. This is one of the better plays because it provides us with a much broader picture of the character’s life.

Piece 4: Radically different in style. This fragmented fever dream from a scared child under anaesthetic is excellent. Obsessed with Doctor Who, the child’s thoughts flick back and forth through time, showing his fears and hopes for a life beyond dialysis. Mortimer could have played him even younger to have a stronger effect on the audience, though the language showed that John was quite young, no more than eight or nine years old. The sound design is particularly detailed, with a tardis motif.

Piece 5: Another child, this one is older and stroppy. He is struggling with his younger sister’s need for a heart transplant. The childishness is interrupted by profoundly adult moments as he debates whether he should kill himself so she can have his heart. He also endearingly compares her upcoming transplant with gardening. This piece shows how organ failure causes those involved to grow up quickly, often too fast. This is another excellent piece; Mortimer found it easier to embody this child. Perhaps the frustration and helplessness are emotions he can access particularly well.

Piece 6: Five-year-old Liz is in a hospital bed attached to a ventilator. She’s five, has Cystic Fibrosis and is waiting for a double lung transplant. Mortimer plays her father, dreaming of a healthy child that can run and play like all the other children. He also considers the family of the child that will donate his/her lungs to Liz and how their parents must feel. Mature and complex, this is the second piece that has a character detailed enough to turn into a longer play, with additional roles acted out. This piece has a sombre and moving tone very different to the previous pieces and a good choice for an ending.

Pieces is certainly a unique production, and one that will develop further with additional variation to style and character development. The sound design by Justin Teasdale was atmospheric but not dominating and could enhance the addition of design elements including costume and set. This production relies on verbal communication; the set was a single folding chair and Mortimer’s costume never changed. Though it enhanced the storytelling aspect of the production and allowed its messages to sink in, some visual variation would also be welcome. Despite its shortcomings, this remains a unique production with important messages.


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The Quentin Dentin Show, ACT Theatre at Kingston College

IYAF 1Disclaimer: due to TfL journey planner buggery I arrived at the theatre, the ACT at Kingston College in deepest, darkest zone 6, about ten minutes into the show. Fortunately, I only missed exposition that was covered as the story continued.

Keith (Jack Welch) and Nat (Shauna Riley) have been together for a while now. Their relationship has stagnated, as has Keith’s writing career. Nat’s had enough. They’re both chronically unhappy. The final straw as Keith’s radio breaking, but out of the static arrives weird and wonderful singing therapist Quentin Dentin (Henry Carpenter), and his two Friends (Caldy Walton and Ella Donaldson). Cloaked in white with matching hair, Quentin is a Christ-like figure there to save Nat and Keith’s relationship and to make them happy again.

Of course, this is all rather creepy and surreal. The story takes a turn to a darker side as the couple’s treatments prove ineffective. Production company Slick Rat state that one of the primary influences on the show is The Rocky Horror Picture Show; Quentin has similar qualities to Frank N. Furter, and the couple are a rather more street-wise, contemporary Brad and Janet who go along with the strange man that appeared out of their radio with little question. Musically, the songs have a 1970’s glam rock vibe and Quentin also looks a bit like David Bowie. In summary, the title role is a Frank N. Furter/Jesus/David Bowie hybrid in a new rock musical. What’s not to like?

Not much, actually. Though this is a new musical by a young company, a long development period and support from places such as Rich Mix and The National Theatre Studio have helped Slick Rat shape their idea into a quirky little show with potential.

There are still some issues that should be looked at, such as clichéd lyrics (“Swim with the fishes/all that glitters is gold”) and an abrupt ending. Not that it necessarily needs to be positive, but it’s quite vague in its current form. The transitions into the songs are similarly abrupt, but all that is needed to correct this would be more lead-in music and/or dialogue that echoes the coming lyrics. Even though I missed to beginning exposition, is ten minutes of a one-hour show too much of an introduction?

The performances are good, particularly from Donaldson, Walton and Riley (Friends and Nat). Quentin could use an injection of charisma to avoid him becoming too creepy, but this could also be addressed in the writing. Similarly, Keith could do with more external artistic angst, frustration and clear isolation from the rest of the world. The music is fun and the premise both entertaining and thought-provoking: are we allowing society to dictate that we must be happy all the time? Are we too enamoured of miracle cures? What role does religion play in this?

This one-act could nicely develop into a more complex story with the addition of more characters and songs without losing its message. It has a distinctive musical style that manages to not muddy from all its influences. It would certainly benefit from the addition of a bigger budget, good design and a whole band rather than the sole onstage guitarist. In its current state, it captures the innovation and spirit of fringe theatre and admirably contributes to new British musicals, an area sorely underdeveloped in favour of revivals and American imports. It’s worth catching at Edinburgh Fringe, particularly for those interested in new musical theatre.


The Play’s The Thing UK is an independent theatre criticism website maintained voluntarily. Whilst donations are never expected, they are hugely appreciated and will enable more time to be spent reviewing theatre productions of all sizes. Click here to make a donation with PalPal.