By Laura Kressly
Sarah and Lilly haven’t seen each other in 20 years. They’re now awkwardly navigating each other in their father’s kitchen somewhere in rural America. As they wait for their dad to die, the sisters comb through their pasts in the hope of finding out where everything went wrong. But with two very different sets of memories, is it possible to forgive?
by guest critic Joanna Trainor
“We’re not here for your pleasure.” “Consent is hot.” The Fringe Wives Club need some merch with these slogans on. Glittery Clittery has everything you need for a cult feminist disco, plus a labia costume.
by Laura Kressly
Val is a concerned, elderly citizen of her community. She believes that if everyone followed the rules on refuse disposal and the agreed schedule for mealtimes, every thing would be peaceful and orderly. She also believes that recent arrivals like Tracy, displaced by natural disasters, aren’t her problem.
by Laura Kressly
Our company is restructuring and every one of us has to reapply for our jobs. Tensions are running high, but don’t worry! Our caring employers have asked one of the HR team to lead us in a Mindfulness workshop to help us cope. The thing is that this workshop leader’s life is falling apart as well, and the skeletons are tumbling out of her closet quicker than she can put them back in.
When I was little, around three or four years old, I went through a phase where I watched The Wizard of Oz everyday. I adored everything about that film. I wanted to grow up to be that brave, stubborn girl who loves animals, with a group of devoted friends making sure she was always safe whilst embarking on her next wonderful adventure in a foreign land.
A giant moose terrorises a South African village. A fifteen-year-old girl falls victim to her father’s vices. An introverted policeman makes a new friend. A village is changed forever.
I didn’t have any particular expectations from Joe Sellman-Leava’s new play on male violence. But I am joyfully surprised by an opening montage of rapidly-delivered Shakespeare, ranging from Othello to Taming of the Shrew. Disarmingly vicious in its delivery, this scene snaps into an audition for a play, then a house in Exeter, then the video research material for Joe’s character, and back again.
Peppered across the North Sea, giant metal birds stretch towards the sky and drill into the seabed below, hunting for life-giving oils and gasses. Along their wide bellies, men work day and night to keep them moving in dangerous, dirty conditions. The money’s good, and the work is plentiful.
Human instinct to categorise and label everything and everyone extends to drawing boundaries and borders around bits of land, dividing the world up into distinct nations with names and cultural features. They’re arbitrary really, and Daniel Bye channels obscure, near-mythical performance artist Edward Shorter to challenge them.
How do I, a white woman from the world’s wealthiest country, voluntarily living in the world’s fifth wealthiest country, who is educated and working in the arts, evaluate a show about a black British woman’s experience of travelling slave trade routes?
The Play's The Thing UK 