biography

No Villain, Old Red Lion Theatre

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There’s usually good reason why renowned writers have known but unpublished early works. They hone their craft by writing, usually badly at first, and then have a major breakthrough after they have been writing for some time. Expecting this to be the case with Arthur Miller’s world premiere of the unpublished No Villain, the play proved to be surprisingly good. Miller’s autobiographical one act was written for a playwriting competition when the 20-year-old undergraduate at the University of Michigan was on the verge of leaving due to his family’s losses during the Great Depression. It was in the university’s archives that director Sean Turner found the manuscript mentioned in Miller’s memoirs, dashed off with the desperate hope of saving his Journalism degree. A theatrical and historical relic, the script isn’t a particularly polished affair but brims with youthful enthusiasm, political activism, and familial conflict that hints at the greatness to come in later works like Death of a Salesman and The Crucible.

From beginning to end, tension dominates this story set in 1936 New York City during the strikes that paralysed the garment district and bankrupted businesses barely holding on to their survival. Father Abe Simon (David Bromley) has no sympathy or understanding for the strikers or his sons’ recent discovery and devotion to the new political system taking over the East, Communism. Arnold (Adam Harley) is a thinly veiled Miller who at the beginning of the play returns from Michigan for the holidays. Refusing to help his father (David Bromley) at the shop because it would compromise his principles, older brother Ben (George Turvey) is more practical. The action largely centres around these three men, but the strain of the Depression also shows in their interactions with their mother (Nesba Crenshaw), sister Maxine (Helen Coles) and grandfather (Kenneth Jay).

Focused, emotionally endowed performances in heightened realism and moments of good dialogue generate exquisite set piece scenes, but the overall plot structure and storyline is a bit loose, and the politics are so blatant that it’s agitprop. This is not a subtle play, but it’s certainly not poorly made. The story is a microcosmic representation of Big Issues but it’s clear that this is real life replicated on stage rather than pure fiction. There’s a lot of preaching and arguing and threats, but the actors truthfully capture this almost-constant tension within the family, and these moments are plentiful. Like a baby Death of a Salesman, we see the idealism and father-son relationships that help make Miller one of the greatest dramatists of the 20th century.

Max Dorey’s set and Natalie Pryce’s costumes contribute detail and further authenticity to the production. Stylistically, this is a great example of early 20th century American theatre (but with accents from different parts of the US in one family) made popular by Clurman, Adler, Meisner and the rest of the Group Theatre in the 1920s and 30s. Turner captures this performance style well and in combination with the factual/biographical nature of the script, it feels like the audience is watching a moment of history brought to life.

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Wilde Without the Boy/The Ballad of Reading Gaol, Rose Playhouse

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Near the end of his two-year imprisonment for gross indecency, Oscar Wilde was a man broken from hard labour, isolation and social disgrace. Until a sympathetic warden at Reading Gaol allowed him restricted writing privileges, he hadn’t been able to write at all. Provided with a single sheet of paper that would be collected and replaced when that one was filled, Wilde penned an 80-page letter of 50,000 words to the selfish lover who was his downfall, Lord Alfred ‘Bosie’ Douglas. Heavily edited and published posthumously by Wilde’s friend and former lover Robbie Ross, the chatty letter was titled “De Profundis”. After Wilde’s release, he wrote poem “The Ballad of Reading Gaol” whilst exiled in Paris; this work details the execution of a fellow inmate.

In Wilde Without the Boy/The Ballad of Reading Gaol, actor Gerard Logan and director/writer Gareth Armstrong team up to create a staged version of these two narratives as a one-man show in two acts. Dramatic in structure and reasonably well performed, this is a text-heavy piece that suits the intimate Rose Playhouse. However, the consistent, even tone and pace that Logan employs has a lulling effect and the verbosity overwhelms with details. There is little to watch; though Wilde Without the Boy gives insight into Wilde’s state of mind at this challenging point in his life, it would make more sense as an audio recording and I cannot discern why it was put on the stage. The Ballad of Reading Gaol is performed with more vocal and physical variation so even though it is the shorter part of the event, it is the more compelling piece.

The set is simple: a bare table and two chairs for the first act, with a stack of documents that are occasionally referenced as letters. The red rope lighting that outlines the Rose’s archaeological remains casts a faint red glow on the walls reminiscent of the passion and anger that constantly burns in Wilde’s heart. Whether or not this was intentional, it effectively contributes to the heavy mood of both pieces. In the second piece, the table is covered with summer linen and a sole green carnation rests there. It is another powerful symbol of Wilde’s homosexuality that is repeatedly denied in Wilde Without the Boy. This show completely ignores the vast space beyond the stage, a decision that suits the script, but it’s still a shame to neglect such a unique feature. The musical score, intermittent in Wilde Without the Boy but a constant presence in The Ballad of Reading Gaol, is latterly a character in itself and Logan’s delivery is impeccably timed to its rise and fall. No programme was supplied, but whoever designed or composed this score deserves acknowledgement.

Though both are interesting pieces of text in that they aren’t normally performed or read by anyone other that Wilde enthusiasts or students, their theatrical potential is limited. Even with Armstrong’s adaptation and edit of the letter, as a one-person show it’s still more of a recitation with a thin story arc detailing Wilde’s views of Bosie and his experiences in prison. Logan has some lovely emotional moments, but it’s not enough to keep the mind from drifting. The Ballad of Reading Gaol has an actual storyline, which is an immense boost to Logan’s performance. He has a compelling stage present and vocal agility, but Wilde Without the Boy is not the best showcase of his abilities, the Rose as a venue or theatre itself.

The Play’s the Thing UK is committed to covering fringe and progressive theatre in London and beyond. It is run entirely voluntarily and needs regular support to ensure its survival. For more information and to help The Play’s the Thing UK provide coverage of the theatre that needs reviews the most, visit its patreon.

Piaf, Charing Cross Theatre

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Icon Edith Piaf inspired numerous films and plays, including 1978 play with music, Piaf. The four foot, 8 inches tall chanteuse from a broken home died at just 47, but left a songbook often heard in popular culture. These songs, which feature heavily, epitomize the defiant spirit of a France under attack, painfully relevant today. Addicted to drink and painkillers, the little sparrow must have struggled immensely with her inner demons but Pam Gems’ script avoids such nuance, for her or any of the other characters. Cameron Leigh’s belter of a voice reveals Piaf’s passion and turmoil through her songs, and the rest of the cast provide good vocal support, but Gems’ diabolically awful book manages to be rushed, tedious and two-dimensional all at once.

Portrayed as a selfish, junkie nymphomaniac who treats people as commodities, there is little room for audience sympathy in the first half. The scenes are short and delivered with an even, speedy pace; it’s as if director Jari Laakso feels uncomfortable with Piaf’s poor characterization and the gaping jumps in time that leave even the most important of events glossed over, and he wants to get to the interval ASAP. The second half marginally improves as Piaf’s health declines and she is seen as frail, vulnerable and poor. A few of the lines get laughs, as the humour is less distasteful than earlier in the play.

Cameron Leigh is an explosive barrage of rudeness as Edith Piaf and clearly struggles to find any decency in the script’s portrayal. Instead, she wisely focuses on revealing the character’s emotional life in her songs, the best feature of this play. Backed up by her best friend Toine (Samantha Spurgin), Marlene Dietrich (the imposingly glam Valerie Cutko) and an array of multi-rolling men and actor-musos, their vocal prowess makes this production bearable. It’s a small cast for the number of characters, but there is some good physical multi-rolling and costume indications help make up for scarcity in the dialogue.

Laakso and the cast energetically do their best, but the overwhelming issue in Piaf is Gems’ atrocious script. Otherwise, the songs are well sung, the production suits the theatre well and the set (Phillipa Batt) and lighting (Chris Randall) are well considered and often striking. It’s just a shame Gems isn’t alive to re-write it.

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 PayPal.

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.

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.

Ideas Tap Underbelly Award, Edinburgh Festival Fringe

Now-defunct Ideas Tap lives on at Underbelly with solo shows selected from shortlisted applicants to one of their funding briefs. The Eulogy of Toby Peach is a witty, hopeful autobiography of a young man diagnosed with Hodgkin’s Lymphoma at age 20. Brute darkly reflects back to writer/performer Izzy Tennyson’s school days at a low-performing girls’ school in a nameless English town. Much Further Out Than You Thought is the slow-burning delusion of a veteran suffering from PTSD. Wildly different in tone but with some excellent moments and good performances, these shows are good representatives of emerging solo performance at the Fringe.

The Eulogy of Toby Peach, by Toby Peach, is a eulogy in that it celebrates his life and continued survival after two bouts of cancer that could return at any time. He speaks to us quietly with numbers, statistics and anecdotes from his life with cancer in between episodes of The Cancer Club, of which half of us will eventually become members. “Cancer is you,” he explains, like, “a terrible one-man show where you play all the parts.” At The Cancer Club there are all sorts of complicated cocktails and the constant threat of remission, but Toby is lucky that his girlfriend Kristy is always by his side. The Cancer Club gets a lot of laughs, but it is equally horrifying.

The audience also discovers the NHS “wank room”, the Willy Wonka-esque magical machine that facilitates stem cell treatment, and the biological consequences of his chemotherapy. Peach is a charming, confident performer who is able to confront the awfulness of cancer with humour, hope and warmth. He switches back and forth between his everyday self and heightened versions of Toby, which maintains audience focus, a clear narrative and varied performance styles. The fear and anger that eventually emerge are truthful and fully justified without coming across as ranting or indulgent. His show is hopeful rather than wallowing, and his infectious enthusiasm leaves the audience completely on his side and reminded to appreciate those closest to them.

Brute takes an entirely different tone and has less of an emphasis on narrative, sticking to one constant character who reenacts excerpts from day-to-day life. Some of her monologues are connected, some are isolated. Poppy is in year 11, exams are looming and her friendship group is small and constantly in flux. It’s easy for adults to brush off teenage relationships, but Brute is a reminder of just how horrible kids can be to each other, particularly girls.

Izzy Tennyson is Poppy’s creator/performer, speaking to us directly about her friends, teachers and family. It is never clear what her relationship is with the audience, but they are treated like a diary or confidante. As over-dramatic as some her stories can be, Tennyson employs a stark honesty that demonstrates the complexity and viciousness of teenage friendships. She also brings up self-image; Poppy is not one of the Pretty Girls, but a troll and a virgin, like the other girls in her group. They regularly engage in bullying, isolation and bitchiness as a way of joking or communicating how they feel about each other. It’s pretty horrible to watch, but countered with a good deal of humour. Tennyson’s performance is relentlessly energetic and committed; teenaged sarcasm alternates with hurt and anger that builds to a violent climax on the last day of school. There is no performance style variation, but the power of this piece lies in the content. It’s a stark reminder of how tough it is to be a kid, even more so now with the role of technology in teenager’s lives.

So we’ve covered cancer and horrible teenage behaviour. To continue with Serious Issues, Giles Roberts’ Much Further Out Than You Thought presents a lonely veteran who has lost everything. Lance Corporal James Randall lives in a dusty flat and talks to his young son, Danny, about the experiences in Afghanistan that have left him a quivering husk of a man. The set is a simple living room, but the floor is covered in gravel and sand, the desert that James has not been able to leave behind. The first half of the play is an evenly delivered and reflective monologue about his desire to serve, enlistment and more mundane aspects of life with the British army. As it starts to feel on the lengthy side and lacking development, James abruptly relives a pivotal mission supported by powerful lighting design by Elliot Griggs. The audience sees the man he once was, a stark contrast the man he is now.

From this scene the script continues to grow, ending with a disarming revelation about Danny, and James’ plans for the future. The character develops rapidly in the second half of the play, showing Roberts’ range and emotional depth as an actor. It’s hard to empathise with James at first, but as his laddish, South London boy exterior breaks down, so does the audience. The beginning of the script could do with some editing, but the end redeems the production and sends the message home. Society is simply not doing enough to take care of our veterans.

None of these new plays take on buoyant subject matter, but all three convey important social messages. The performances are excellent and clearly demonstrate the conviction of emerging theatre artists to catalyze social change through their work. These shows could use further development and refining, but show promising developments in solo performance and carry Ideas Tap’s legacy.

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.

Goodstock, Edinburgh Fringe

4619333323_702x449If you’re a woman with the BRCA1 gene, you have a 40% chance of developing ovarian cancer, and an 80% chance of developing breast cancer. Olivia Hirst is a playwright and actor. She has the BRCA1 gene and a family tree peppered with ancestors and family members who died from these cancers. Among those are her aunt, and her grandmother Elizabeth who survived a cancer diagnosis. Being a performing artist, Olivia wrote an autobiographical play about having BRCA1. Lost Watch’s Goodstock affectionately presents the major, real-life decisions she must make with humour, frankness and music.

An episodic structure frames the stories of numerous characters, with a particular focus on Olivia and her family. Illona Linthwaite plays her spunky and caring grandmother, Rianna Dearden plays Olivia’s parents, several doctors and Olivia’s aunt, as well as a host of musical instruments during scene transitions. Olivia plays herself. The cast of three clearly demonstrates great conviction in their story, endowing each character with charm and honesty. They often employ direct address, creating a relaxed, conversational environment. Olivia’s script cleverly utilizes levity, storytelling and meta-theatre to contrast quite a lot of science and grief, creating a well-balanced production. It could easily tend towards sentimentality, indulgence or preaching, but instead manages to be both informative and heartwarming.

One of Olivia’s decisions is what kind of preventative surgery to have. Medicine recommends breast removal by age 30, and the ovaries by age 35. Olivia is 26. She’s also recently single and faces the consequential decision of how to deal with becoming infertile. But, does she risk passing down this gene to her children if she can’t afford embryonic screening? It’s a lot for a 20-something to deal with, and her inner conflicts move the audience to tears.

There’s a lot packed into this gem of an hour-long play, but the only unclear aspect is what Hirst and the company want the audience to take away. It is a celebration of life, and raises awareness of what life is like for young women who know they have the BRCA1 gene, but this microcosmic biography doesn’t convey one particular message. Regardless of this, it is a wonderful piece of theatre with skilled performances and a distinctive writing style that is a vital contribution to this year’s 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.

Elephant Man, everything theatre

“…In his original adaptation, writer and director Steve Green confronts audiences with the uncomfortable social history of ownership, entrapment and public appearance in the Victorian era.

“Actor Daniel Christostomou plays Merrick as a sensitive, articulate young man caged by his physical deformities and Victorian attitudes. Rather than prosthetics or make up, costume designer Anastasia Sarajeva has created an evocative, confrontational structure of wire, chain link and mesh for Chrisostomou…

“Steve McGarrick’s portrayal of Frederick Treves is warm but scientific…He genuinely cares for Merrick, but also has a sense of ownership for the man and wants to “keep him” in hospital for the sake of medical research. This is thinly veiled as concern for Merricks’ wellbeing.

“Adam Trussell’s Tom Norman keeps Merrick in a caged bed…as a freak show specimen in a Whitechapel shop front. Trussell also portrays Dr Reginald Tuckett, a deeply disturbed colleague of Treves. Trussell’s characters are very similar to each other, which unfortunately doesn’t allow him to show much range as an actor.

“Amy Sayers and Katie Turner also play a range of characters in Merrick’s life. Many of these characters are also caged, but by prejudices and attitudes that prohibit them from seeing Merrick as fully human.

“Despite Chrisostomou’s incredible performance and the unique approach to Merrick’s experience, the script falls short…

“Regardless of the confusing and unpolished script, the characters and the performances still make this a production worth catching…”

Read the entire review on everything theatre here.

Do We Do the Right Thing?, everything theatre

“…Having read the programme whilst waiting to enter the theatre, I looked out for the actors’ earpieces.

“This performance relies on a form of verbatim theatre called, “recorded delivery.” The programme explains this is when, “recordings of the actual interview are played to the actors in earpieces on stage during the performance. Rather than learning lines, the actors respond to the material during the performance and retell their interviewees’ stories word-by-word and breath-by-breath.”…

“The structure of the play consists of fragments of interviews with people affected by war, past and present. It also hears from some people who live in Wootton Bassett…The problem here was that the individual stories had scope for an excellent narrative on their own, but the numerous excerpts did not allow for any of the characters to have a substantial journey…

“The main issue with this play is that it tries to say too much and in doing so, says very little. Author Neil Walker writes this is, “a play which raises the broader issues about acts of remembrance, the public’s relationship with the military and war, father-son relationships and individual identity. The play poses important questions about the ripple effect of loss through military conflict and what happens post-2014…” A one-act play needs only to examine one of these themes…”

Read the entire review on everything theatre here.

Shakespeare & The Alchemy of Gender, Rose Playhouse

At 19 years old, Lisa Wolpe fell in love with Shakespeare. She’s now performed more of Shakespeare’s male roles than any woman in history after founding Los Angeles Women’s Shakespeare Company twenty years ago. She is currently touring the world with her solo show, Shakespeare & The Alchemy of Gender. Although it sounds like an academic lecture, it contains some of the best Shakespeare performances I have seen. The play pays homage to her father, telling the man’s story and how he affected her life. The man who killed himself when Wolpe was four is brought to life in a deceptively simple show that finds hope in a history of suicide, abuse and war.

Though to say the show is about her father’s life oversimplifies the content. Yes, a large portion is about him, but it also covers her life after he had gone, her relationship to specific Shakespeare characters, gender, performance, religion, Elizabethan society, family and alchemy – the transformation of a base material into something precious. These themes intertwine, with no moment unrelated or superfluous and the 55-minute show amazingly manages to not feel overloaded with messages. As she works through her life and her father’s, she relates Shakespeare’s characters to individual moments in time. As she reflects on her relationship with him now, she becomes Hamlet remembering his father’s ghost, in the best performance of the role I’ve encountered. Her father’s WWII escape and joining up with the Canadian forces as a double agent lead into Henry V. We also meet Richard III, Hermione, Shylock and others in relation to herself and her family’s history. Wolpe is not only adept as any man at embodying the male roles, she excels. She also effortlessly switches between men, women and herself, functioning in an androgynous state when addressing us out of character.

Wolpe is comfortable addressing us with an open honesty about difficult episodes in her life without coming across as confessional or masturbatory, as one-person shows run the risk of being when used to come to terms with the performer’s or writer’s issues, whatever they may be. The show is relaxed and conversational with the audience nodding, laughing, even verbally agreeing. The intimate venue helps, but she certainly has the energy to fill a huge theatre. She had a profound effect on the audience, particularly when sharing moments about her relationship with her family and dressing in boys’ clothes to defend herself against her predatory stepfather.

Her interpretation of the characters she performs seems rooted in physical and vocal distinctions, with her General American accent capturing the visceral-ness of the language that the more recently created RP/Standard English. These characters come from her gut, and she explains how she is able to relate to each one and perform them with truth. This is evidence of Shakespeare’s continuing relevance to modern life. Not only is Shakespeare: An Alchemy of Gender an excellent piece of solo theatre, it is also a lesson in performing the great Shakespearean roles of both genders and an encouragement for all to defy gender boundaries dictated by society.

Because this is a woman that must be experienced, here is an extract from her Iago. Enjoy.

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.

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.