Review – Small Island, Birmingham Rep, 2nd April 2026

Posted on April 3, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Pamela Raith

Helen Edmundson’s adaptation of Andrea Levy’s highly regarded novel opened to great acclaim at London’s National Theatre in 2019; an extended run at the Olivier was planned for 2020 but that darned Covid pandemic had other ideas. However, a new touring production directed by Matthew Xia is underway, co-produced by the Birmingham Rep, Leeds Playhouse and Nottingham Playhouse in association with Actors Touring Company; and it’s no coincidence that these three major cities are hosting this production, as they each owe so much to the contribution made to society by the Windrush generation.

©Pamela Raith

Never having read the book, nor seen the TV adaptation, nor seen the show in 2019, I had no preconceptions as to what was in store, only knowing that it’s 3 hours 20 minutes including an interval. If it’s that long, and it isn’t Shakespeare, it needs to be good to warrant so much material. Fortunately, Small Island most definitely is! Instantly captivating and engrossing, Edmundson takes Levy’s extraordinary characters, from both Jamaica and the UK, and guides us through their individual stories and how they eventually all combine in one ramshackle house in Earl’s Court.

©Pamela Raith

Chekhov’s Three Sisters constantly lament about how life would be so much better if only they could get to Moscow. That feeling of missed opportunity and resentment of others in a more sophisticated setting is often found in drama, and I sensed it very clearly here. The Jamaican people wish for that better life in the mother country, England, where talented and skilled people will be welcomed and rewarded for their hard work with a good wage and a comfortable home. As we see the Windrush set sail for England at the end of the first Act, we know what they don’t know – that life in England will not be a bed of roses, and that the mother country will turn on them decades later. It’s a classic instance of dramatic irony.

©Pamela Raith

Small Island is an immense story, spanning a period of fifteen years. We see the haughty young Hortense, removed from her home to live with a cruel uncle and aunt, but determined to achieve something in life. We meet the spirited Queenie, itching to leave dull Lincolnshire for the bright lights of London. There’s Bernard, the anxious, reserved and emotionally repressed bank clerk who will eventually marry Queenie; and there’s lovable, bumbling Gilbert, desperate to leave Jamaica on the Windrush to gain that guaranteed brighter future in England. Linking them all, whether they know it or not, is Hortense’s charismatic and mischievous cousin Michael, who blossoms from the cruel Jamaican household through boarding school, assertively into the RAF, eventually to emigrate to Canada.

©Pamela Raith

Edmundson’s glorious text, due at least in part to her productive discussions with Andrea Levy before her death, paints a series of totally believable episodic pictures, building up the characters, their influences and their experiences, into fully charged individuals, each with their own virtues and vices; culminating with Hortense and Gilbert living with Queenie and Bernard in London. Packed with emotion, some of the problems that the characters face make you catch your breath; no spoilers, but I’m sure Mrs Chrisparkle had to wipe away the odd moment of eye-moisture.

©Pamela Raith

It’s also fearless in its portrayal of racism, in all its forms, causing a modern audience frequently to gasp in horror at some of the language and attitudes. Racism today – I’m guessing – has evolved into more covert and more institutionalised, perhaps less delivered in person but more savage online, to reflect our Internet age. But Small Island shows it tossed around unapologetically, almost ostentatiously and gleefully, and it’s truly horrifying to witness. There is a trigger warning about some of the language and content and, frankly, it’s worth taking seriously.

©Pamela Raith

Despite the gravity of its subject matter, the play is also incredibly funny, with plenty of genuinely laugh out loud moments, often in the face of appalling racism. The ghastly Bernard, to whom Queenie is regrettably married, is irredeemably racist; towards the end of the play, you think he’s going to repent for his error, when Gilbert boldly confronts him with why his prejudices are all wrong. He starts by replying I’m sorry… and what follows has the audience in hysterics; that’s just one example of the tremendous combination of text, performance and direction.

©Pamela Raith

Simon Kenny’s superb set shrinks the main acting area of the huge Birmingham Rep stage so effectively that you barely notice, with informative use of newsreel projection to separate the scenes, a first Act that moodily drifts in and out of all sorts of different locations, and a second Act firmly rooted in the inescapable stark comfortlessness of Queenie’s house – basic decent accommodation for her and a filthy decrepit garret for Gilbert and Hortense upstairs. Luke Bacchus’ striking musical motifs pepper the high emotional moments, always enhancing the production and never distracting.

©Pamela Raith

The cast are superb throughout. With some cast members playing two or three characters, the clarity of the storytelling is fantastic. Even the minor roles are outstanding. Paul Hawkyard’s portrayal of Bernard’s shellshocked father Arthur is both deeply moving and frequently comical, stealing every scene with his minutely observed gait and facial expressions. Marcia Mantack is a joy as the kindly Miss Jewel, always looking out for young Hortense’s best interests. Rosemary Boyle is hilarious as the sensationalist Mrs Ryder, desperate for some physicality in her life as she volunteers to feel the full blast of a Jamaican hurricane. Zoe Lambert’s beneficent Aunt Dorothy and nasty-minded Miss Todd are both brilliantly observed portrayals of outspoken and forthright women, albeit coming at life from very different angles.

©Pamela Raith

Everal A Walsh gives us a horrifyingly strict Mr Philip and then surprises us with a delightfully mischievous cameo as Gilbert’s neighbour Kenneth. André Squire gives a bright and cheeky performance as Gilbert’s critical brother Elwood, Mara Allen a wickedly funny Celia, and there’s excellent further support from Toby Webster, Phil Yarrow and Jordan Laviniere.

©Pamela Raith

In the main roles, Rhys Stephenson is perfectly cast in his professional stage debut as the charismatic Michael; he has terrific stage presence, always gaining the audience’s confidence and approval, and, boy, does he know how to wear a suit – great work again from Simon Kenny’s costume design. Mark Arends excels in the difficult task of portraying Bernard, who develops from emotional weakling to tyrannical husband with total credibility. One could easily see how he could be played as a pantomime villain, but this is a very intelligent portrayal of a self-centred, emotionally blighted individual, to whom racism comes naturally and for whom arrogant reputation is equally important.

©Pamela Raith

Daniel Ward gives an engagingly robust and heartwarming performance as the honourable, but frequently inept, Gilbert; always ready to lend a hand, to think the best of people, slow to ire, but when push comes to shove, he knows exactly the right thing to do. Bronté Barbé is excellent as always, as the optimistic but realistic Queenie, naturally decent to others but tragically aware of the limits that society imposes. And Anna Crichlow is outstanding as Hortense, a naturally refined person who’s learned everything from the school of hard knocks, and who’s not afraid of doing hard work to get what she wants, but she has high standards that she – and moreover Gilbert – must achieve.

©Pamela Raith

Impressive storytelling, constantly engaging and engrossing; it was a delight to see how the audience reacted so vociferously at some key moments, which is an indication of just how involved everyone was with the story unfolding on the stage. Three hours twenty minutes? They fly by. An important and beautifully constructed play, given a first-rate production by Matthew Xia and uniformly superb performances. I can’t recommend it strongly enough. The tour continues at the Birmingham Rep until 18^th April and then moves on to the Nottingham Playhouse from 28^th April to 16^th May. Don’t miss it!

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – The Holy Rosenbergs, Menier Chocolate Factory, London, 29th March 2026

Posted on April 2, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

Ryan Craig’s The Holy Rosenbergs premiered at the National Theatre in 2011, but it feels as though it could have been written yesterday, which perhaps only goes to show that we learn nothing from our mistakes. Set in 2009, the play brings two threads together – a grieving family with a failing business and reputations in the balance; and the politics of the Middle East, sharply focussed on the Israeli Defence Force which is being challenged in Geneva for war crimes. The link between the two comes in the form of Danny Rosenberg, the son who left the rest of the family in Edgware, set up home in Israel, became a member of the IDF, and was questioned under the Geneva Convention over his part in military operations in Gaza.

Flying helicopters over Gaza, Danny is now dead. He has been buried in Israel and his memorial service in Edgware is tomorrow. Danny’s human rights lawyer sister Ruth has been asked to give the eulogy by their father David; but she is assisting Sir Stephen Crossley in writing the report looking into the actions of the IDF. Conflict of interest much? With rumours of a protest at tomorrow’s memorial, specifically targeted against Ruth, should she stay away or attend? As The Holy Rosenbergs takes place over the course of the one day, that’s something we never discover.

With a few nods to Arthur Miller – the unseen Danny casts a similar shadow to the dead Larry in All My Sons and David Rosenberg has more than a whiff of Willy Loman about him – Craig’s writing is intense and compelling and creates a thoroughly believable story with totally recognisable characters. Questions of family loyalty, membership of a wider community, and adherence to one’s faith all play a vital part in this play. David Rosenberg needs someone to continue his family kosher catering business into the future, and with Danny having chosen to move to Israel, and Ruth a gifted lawyer in Geneva, it falls to layabout younger son Jonny to take up the mantle; so that’s never going to happen. The play also examines the contrast between those things which unite us and those things that divide us, especially when they’re so closely connected. For the Rosenbergs, is there a point or an attitude which will unite them all – and is truth more or less important than putting on a solid front?

The Jewish elements of the play are central to its core. Craig presents the Edgware community as having a genuine adherence to the faith, belief in the cause of Israel, and recognising the importance of family, ritual and respect. War, and the actions of war, are at odds with the kindness and generosity at the heart of the Jewish community; and the actions of the Israeli government inevitably create tensions and divisions of loyalty. The Rosenberg family are almost uniquely caught up in the fractious attitudes towards this first Gaza war; and the play does not shy away from the personal tragedy as well as the wider political issues.

One of the joys of seeing a show at the Menier is to discover how the seating configuration and staging has changed since the last time you visited. For The Holy Rosenbergs, Tim Shortall’s immaculately detailed set dominates the space and feels all-encompassing. It’s a living room we all recognise – especially if you were around during the 1980s – with its busy patterned carpeting and elegant, sophisticated G Plan furniture which you can imagine has been polished to the nth degree. Family photos and all the trappings of middle-class Judaism are everywhere – it’s a room that the family will have been so proud of about forty years ago and somehow time has stood still in the interim.

Lindsay Posner’s extraordinary cast deliver totally engrossing performances. Nicholas Woodeson and Tracy-Ann Oberman as David and Lesley Rosenberg are astounding with their perfectly observed, immaculately executed characterisations of the heart of this solid family, effortlessly delivering all the humour inherent in their characters but ruthlessly revealing the inner torture they both face. They’re mesmerising. Dorothea Myer-Bennett is also extraordinarily good as Ruth, treading a fine line between standing up for what she believes in and wanting to grieve as a family member as much as the rest of them.

Dan Fredenburgh is excellent as family friend and respected client Saul, carefully navigating a disastrous dinner party and then later vociferously championing his cause, and Nitai Levi gives us an amusing and credible portrayal of the contrary wastrel Jonny. There’s terrific support from Alex Zur as the young and well-meaning Rabbi Simon, and Adrian Lukis as Ruth’s boss Sir Stephen, awkwardly put on the spot and receiving the full blast of family criticism; his delightful coping mechanism for dealing with the discomfort put me in mind of a younger version of John Le Mesurier.

The play is at its best when fully examining the family dynamic, observing the minute interactions between the family members. Perhaps it gets a little bogged down in the second act where there are some lengthy and slightly didactic speeches – necessary for the plot development but nevertheless weighty for the audience to take in. However, it’s a memorable production which poses many difficult questions and you leave the theatre in awe of some truly first class acting.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Henry V, RSC at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 24th March 2026

Posted on March 25, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

O for a Muse of Fire is the traditional opening for Shakespeare’s Henry V, as the Chorus apologises to the audience for the writer’s and the production’s inevitable inadequacies at representing the vasty fields of France and the casques that did affright the air at Agincourt. But in RSC co-Artistic Director Tamara Harvey’s new production, it starts with a cheeky flashback to Act Four (not even Act Five) of Henry IV Part Two, which has been scissored and stitched together to reveal the seemingly late king lying in state whilst the new king Henry V tries his crown on for size, only for his father to wake from his slumber and shame his son for his impatience.

There’s no doubting it’s a good joke and it reveals how keen Henry V is to get on with it. But you can already tell this production is probably not for purists. Shakespeare structures the play around the Chorus for a good reason, as a conduit between the scenes, and playing with that structure has its perils. It’s Henry V himself who, for the most part, takes on the role of Chorus, whose lines integrate, again for the most part, nicely with what the king wants to say. Not always: it does, for example, sound clumsily arrogant for Henry to deliver the Chorus’ famous reference to a little touch of Harry in the night. The Chorus’ introduction to Act Two explains that the traitors Cambridge Scroop and Grey will be getting their come-uppance; by removing that speech the revelation of their treachery comes as an unexpected surprise which wrongfoots your understanding of what’s happened so far and feels disjointed. However, their punishment by hanging is splendidly done and is a surprisingly mesmerising piece of visual theatre.

That’s at the heart of what’s wrong with this production. Visually it’s very impactful, with an enormous amount of activity on stage, with specially recruited supernumeraries from local colleges and universities to give the impression of the large number of people it takes to wage a war. Their performance of Annie-Lunnette Deakin-Foster’s movement direction and Kate Waters’ fight direction is vividly and immaculately done, from preparing ropes and cloths on the revolving scaffold (a very smart set design by Lucy Osborne) to opposing armies going at it, hammer and tongs.

It’s all very watchable; however, it frequently detracts from the words that are being spoken and takes your attention away from the main matter of the text, sometimes devaluing it so that it interferes with your understanding of the play. The production sacrifices clarity for spectacle; and the one thing that you really want from a Shakespeare production is properly to understand what’s going on. It must be a deliberate directorial decision to make the English and French soldiers indistinguishable from each other, thereby making the point that they’re all human, they all endure suffering and, basically, they’re all the same. But that can be confusing for the audience – and it’s not true to Shakespeare’s own words. The victorious Henry reads out the numbers of French dead – 10,000 – versus the numbers of English dead – 25. If anything emphasises the inequality of the soldiers, it’s that.

Another element of the spectacle is the surreal slow-motion movement of the ensemble as they walk across the stage or lean at perilous angles in order to hear important conversations. It made me wonder, at what point does being stylised become being pretentious? This production doesn’t always manage to stay on the right side of that dividing line. For me, that powerful speech where the king reads the numbers of the dead was ruined by the over-dramatic death swoons of cast members; beautifully executed no doubt, but almost laughable in its pretentiousness.

In fact, for all its visual enaction of the horrors of war, the production remains totally – and perhaps figuratively – bloodless. None of the sword wounds or battle bombardments ever requires the props department to fetch the tomato sauce. And why do they end the first Act leaving the first word of the second Act – Now – hanging in the air as if Henry has accidentally mistimed his cue by twenty minutes? I fear that some of the content of this production is there just because they can rather than because there’s a good reason for it.

Nevertheless, there are some excellent staging choices. The otherwise bland “English lesson” scene where Princess Katherine – Natalie Kimmerling on brilliant form – learns the English words for parts of the body is transformed by having her walking among the fields of the wounded and jiggling their agonised limbs to learn the words for their various body parts. That’s probably the funniest (and maybe sickest) presentation of that scene for many a year.

Ewan Wardrop, Paul Hunter and Emmanuel Olusanya

The performances are largely extremely good, with some of the minor roles excelling; Jamie Ballard is superb throughout, as the self-important Archbishop of Canterbury, mildly foppish and manic but then devastated in grief King of France, and perhaps best of all, as the soldier Williams, whose frank and challenging battlefield conversation with the man who turns out to be King has significant consequences. Paul Hunter brings fantastic bombast and pomposity to the role of Pistol, picking and nicking his way among the dead; Ewan Wardrop and Emmanuel Olunsanya are also excellent as his partners in crime Nym and Bardolph, whose parts are sadly rather cut out of this production.

Catrin Aaron brings a simple practicality to the role of Queen Isabel and provides an early highlight in the play as a wonderful Mistress Quickly. Tanvi Virmani impresses as The Girl, the hanger-on who comes to realise there’s more to life than just revelry. There’s also excellent support from Valentine Hanson as a dignified Henry IV and Erpingham, Sam Parks as Westmoreland, Sarah Slimani as the no-nonsense herald Montjoy, and Diany Samba-Bandza as a flirtatious Lady Scroop. Michael Elcock’s Dauphin strangely lacks the quirkiness to make him stand out as a fop – the whole tennis balls gift scene is surprisingly underplayed – or the gravitas to make him a credible ruler-in-waiting. However, Micah Balfour is outstanding as the noble Exeter, perfect as both soldier and courtier.

Alfred Enoch plays the title role; he looks the part, he speaks with authority and grandeur and can deliver a stirring speech whilst making it sound natural rather than proclaimed, which is an enviable gift. There isn’t much sense of character development, however. Henry V has a lot to learn about life, having been largely a wastrel in his Prince Hal days, too much under the influence of Falstaff. He has to learn to be statesmanlike, to be an inspirational leader, to be ruthless in quashing opponents, to be a battlefield mastermind, to be magnanimous in victory – and also how to woo a lady. But Mr Enoch’s tone and delivery is pretty much straightforward and unwavering throughout, as if he’s trying to be all those things all the time. This one size fits all approach means that it largely succeeds but occasionally you’d like a little more nuance.

A solid and visually impactful production but it’s low on clarity and, unless you’re intimately well acquainted with the text, not always easy to follow. At the start, the Prologue tells us that we the audience have to work hard to use our imaginations to fill out the swelling scene because it’s beyond the actors’ ability; but then this busy production tries to do the very thing that Shakespeare tells us it can’t achieve, and Shakespeare was right all along. Henry V continues his reign at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre until 25^th April.

Three-sy Does It!

Review – Top Gs Like Me, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 26th February 2026

Posted on February 27, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Manuel Harlan

Nothing beats the biting relevance of a powerfully executed, raw slice of contemporary theatre to examine the darkest problems of the age. Top Gs Like Me explores the part that the Internet plays in damaging ordinary folk, allowing them to fall prey to others with evil intent. Every week we hear of a new online scam where people have been tricked into giving away their money – or indeed their heart and soul. The Andrew Tates and – in this play – Hugo Bangs of this world are skilled, sophisticated operators, people scammers who know exactly the strings to pull to achieve what they want (which is, secondarily, your admiration and primarily, your money.)

©Manuel Harlan

Samson Hawkins’ Top Gs Like Me, set firmly in Northampton, tells the story of the likeable, impressionable and naive Aidan, a classic underachiever like most of us, who whiles away his free time at Radlands skate park, accompanied by his daily peanut butter and jam sandwiches, trying to master a trick on his scooter that is just too skilful for him to get right. Earning minimum wage at Morrisons and Deliveroo, with a frustrating homelife and no love life, there must be more that he can do to gain a foothold in the world. Best friend Mia is off to Bristol to study photography, and she’s got a new boyfriend, Charlie, who’s a pukka product of the Boys’ School, naturally confident with his charming bonhomie. There’s nothing quite like finding out that the girl, who you hope could be your girlfriend, is introducing you to her new boyfriend, to make you realise quite how much you’re missing out.

©Manuel Harlan

In amongst the ever-changing noise and messages that he observes as he doomscrolls, Hugo Bang comes into insidious focus on his phone, all sharp red suit, successful aura, and magnetic charisma. If he can do it, how come I can’t, thinks Aidan (precisely as Hugo Bang intends him to think). His mantra is simple: get the cash first, then you’ll get the girls. And once you get the girls, you get more girls. Happy days, as long as you remember never to treat the girls as human. As Aidan starts to fall under Hugo’s spell, Grace wanders into his life, attempting to give off streetwise vibes, and willing to be his friend, maybe more. Aidan sees how he can use Grace as part of his new business – his plan to get the cash first. Thus starts a chain of events that ends up disastrously for everyone involved.

©Manuel Harlan

It gave me great satisfaction to realise I had to Google what a Top G is. It’s a Top Gangster, one of those terms that Andrew Tate and his ilk have created, to lure unsuspecting young men, Pied Piper like, into their way of thinking. Being a Top G may sound tempting, but it’s no way of life for a decent human being. It’s a gateway into misogyny, prejudice and blaming everyone else for the situation you find yourself in – except yourself. Take responsibility for your own actions and situation, and you need never fear falling into this pernicious trap.

©Manuel Harlan

The cunning twist in Hawkins’ writing is that, whilst exposing the harm and indeed criminality that the likes of Hugo Bang can induce, Aidan doesn’t suffer all the consequences of his actions that he might. Hawkins recognises that Aidan is a victim too. In a programme note, director Jesse Jones writes “I don’t believe we can live in a world where mistakes made at eighteen define someone forever”, and the end of the play allows for both an optimistic and pessimistic future, with both a hint at redemption and the likelihood that the Internet will continue to do its worst.

©Manuel Harlan

Anyone familiar with the usual configuration of the Derngate auditorium will be astounded when they see how it has been transformed to incorporate a skatepark as the centrepiece of traverse staging. It becomes a huge, thrilling acting space, which can comfortably host the full cast of 31 actors, which includes 25 third year Acting students from the University of Northampton who perform the vital, and hugely effective, role of Internet Ensemble – the constant cacophony of disconnected voices and images that appear for seconds on our phones until you swipe them away. It’s a fascinating concept which they deliver seamlessly with great humour and insight.

©Manuel Harlan

Technically, the production is also an outstanding achievement. Rebecca Brower’s set totally nails the graffiti-covered functional but comfortless space, and I lost count of the number of positions from where a cast member can enter the stage – there are at least ten, giving it a truly immersive feel. Rory Beaton’s creative lighting and Benjamin Grant’s sound designs work together in a mosaic of intricacy and enviable slickness. Hats off too, to Monica Nicolaides’ outstanding movement direction and Kiel O’Shea’s fight direction, which gives us some superbly believable stage combat.

©Manuel Harlan

On top of it all are six main performances of outstanding quality. Daniel Rainford convinces us that Aidan is a true Everyman character; restless, guileless, and without a plan for the future. He also shows us that the manosphere version of himself is an unnatural warping of his character; artificial and without the necessary charisma to become the next Hugo. He’s never off stage in a physically demanding and powerful performance. Encouraging his descent, Danny Hatchard is perfect as Hugo, constantly reinforcing the simplicity of getting what you want, appearing heroic, dishing out his diktats in bite size chunks; and, when everything ends in disaster, he simply slinks off quietly, unnoticed, without saying a word – until his next victim comes along.

©Manuel Harlan

Fanta Barrie gives a terrific performance as Mia; eloquent, insightful, and delivering probably the best speech of the play, that examines the consequences of Aidan’s actions on other people. Finn Samuels is also excellent as the effortlessly urbane Charlie, Emily Coates gives a superb performance as Grace and David Schaal brings the character of Dave, the alcoholic who spends this time drinking at the skate park, to life with a remarkable speech about how one must always take responsibility for one’s own actions.

©Manuel Harlan

If you know decent people who have been radicalised, and have no idea how this happened, this play may help you understand why. It offers no easy answers or solutions and no happy ever afters. But it does make you think, and talk; it challenges you to find a way out and dares you to judge those who ought to do better. A tremendous achievement by writer Samson Hawkins, director Jesse Jones and the entire cast. A must-see!

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Russell Hicks, This Time It’s Personal, Underground at the Royal and Derngate Theatre, Northampton, 21st February 2026

Posted on February 22, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

Expect the unexpected when you see a Russell Hicks show and you won’t be disappointed. Many’s the time when we’ve seen him and any pre-prepared material goes right out of the window as he riffs off whatever the audience chuck at him – his ability to think on his feet is off the scale. Through his conversations with the crowd at yesterday’s show, we met the guy from Bugbrooke who gets fired loads of times, the accountant from Bedford who only likes the river there, the two couples sitting separately who’d seen Russell’s show in Luton where he was almost assaulted, the lady whose doorbell alarm on her phone wouldn’t stop, and the man who was only there for the accents.

Plenty of elements of his new show didn’t go entirely to plan last night in the Underground – thanks to David in the tech box – but that’s pure grist to his mill and creates even more hilarious chaos. All human life is here, as they say; and it’s comedy gold for Russell to mine whenever he wants.

This Time It’s Personal delves – as the title suggests – a little deeper into what makes Russell tick, how he got to where he is, how his somewhat unusual childhood upbringing motivated him to work in comedy and the lessons learned along the way. It could be rather serious material – but not the way Russell Hicks tells it! His main thread in the show is his part-disastrous, part-life changing experience of working as a comedian on a cruise ship. I think he’d be the first to admit that he’s not the most obvious choice of cruise comedian – and his account of dealing with the entertainment director, his rivalry with a magician too intelligent for his years and the audience (largely too old to notice) makes for a series of terrific anecdotes. Naturally, I’m not going to tell you how his experience resolved itself, you’ll have to see his show to find out!

Always a delight to see Mr H – his tour continues into June so don’t miss out on this opportunity to see a master at work!

Review – The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 19th February 2026

Posted on February 20, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Tyler Fayose

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind is the true story of the remarkable William Kamkwamba, who, as a schoolboy living in the poor, drought-stricken village of Wimbe in Malawi, created a windmill out of junk and scraps, thus bringing electricity and water to his community. His story first became known through his blog, then a book, then a film made by Chiwetel Ejiofor, and now it’s a musical, with book and lyrics by Richy Hughes and music and lyrics by Tim Sutton.

©Tyler Fayose

An inspiring tale about an inspiring young man; and who can resist a stirring story about succeeding against all the odds? His farmer father and his friends all think he is deluded to believe that he can achieve the impossible – but William’s determination and hard work pay off. But this is no simple, Cinderella-style rags to riches story. The toughness, indeed brutality, of the setting is never far away. As the drought kicks in, and food is scarce, William’s constant companion, the stray dog Khamba, dies of starvation. When the village Chief dares to question the methods of political leader Bakili Muluzi, he is beaten up for his pains.

©Tyler Fayose

And whilst William spends his time tinkering with old bits of machinery, developing the fascination for engineering that will eventually lead to success, his father is furious that, at the ripe old age of 13, he is not toiling the fields alongside him, harvesting the maize that will provide at least some form of income and food for the family. There’s a powerful scene where the farmers are working rigorously together on the fields whilst the boys get in their way, engrossed in understanding how a radio works; each set of characters antagonising the other with their opposing priorities. With hindsight, clearly William and his friends were on the right track – but hindsight is a wonderful thing and doesn’t put food on the table.

©Tyler Fayose

Frankie Bradshaw’s set shows Wimbe as an unremarkable village with basic accommodation, offset by a glorious sky. Traps open up from the stage floor to reveal the dry, dusty track of field at which William’s father Trywell relentlessly works. The costumes are evocative of rural Malawi, with a rather smart cloak for the Chief, and colourful but meagre clothing for the rest of the village – although I did think that some of those trainers were perhaps a little stylish and chic for the setting. The lighting, sound and video all combine to give a strong impression of the challenging weather conditions, with some very effective raindrop splashes on the surface of the stage.

©Tyler Fayose

The likeable, gifted cast belt out Tim Sutton’s tunes with true gusto, creating some tremendous harmonies and goosebump-inducing sequences, although 90% of it is delivered at supercharged fortissimo volume; there’s no denying it, this is, overall, a very loud show. With a couple of notable exceptions, the songs are, however, incidental to the narrative; undeniably, they add flavour and colour, but they halt the progress of the story rather than drive it forward. Also, given that the story deals with very serious issues – poverty, starvation, malaria, corruption to name but four – I found it surprising that some of the characterisations were pantomime-silly; very effectively done but detracting from the seriousness of the work.

©Tyler Fayose

The lead roles, however, are superbly well performed; McCallam Connell brings marvellous authority to the role of the Chief, making his untimely end even more impactful. Tsemaye Bob-Egbe and Owen Chaponda bring a delightful romance to the roles as Annie, William’s sister and Mr Kachigunda, his teacher, with William performing an engaging Go-Between role between the two of them. Idriss Kargbo brings an element of cheeky vanity to the role of Gilbert Mofat, William’s best friend, and Madeline Appiah is excellent as Agnes, his mother, determined to bring her children up in the modern style; her recovery from malaria is one of the show’s most heartwarming moments.

©Tyler Fayose

Alistair Nwachukwu is terrific as William, showing superb comic timing as well as a true feel for the emotions of the piece; an embodiment of quiet resilience and determination through thick and thin. For me, the stand-out performance is by Sifiso Mazibuko as William’s father Trywell, battered by contrasting needs and wishes, a traditional, honest fellow just trying to do his best. Sutton and Hughes give him the best song of the night, This I Know, a soaring ballad of epic proportions that wouldn’t be out of place in Les Mis.

©Tyler Fayose

Despite all these excellent elements, aspects of the show didn’t quite work for me. The staging is sometimes cluttered, even chaotic, with too many people on stage at the same time, especially in the big musical/dance numbers; and sometimes the ebullience and enthusiasm of what’s going on simply descends into what feels like an uncontrolled mess. Also, it’s way too long – three hours including the interval – and although it tells the story clearly, it also tells it very slowly! The slow pace strangely diminished the emotional aspect of the story and I found myself surprisingly unmoved by some of those moments clearly meant to give you a lump in the throat.

©Tyler Fayose

That said, the show does come to a triumphant conclusion with the assembly of the windmill and the switching-on of the lights, and it would be a hard-hearted person who didn’t share in the moment of victory as William and Trywell mount the steps up to the top of the windmill to partake in its glory. Certainly, Messrs Nwachukwu and Mazibuko were fighting back the emotions (not entirely successfully!) at the end. But maybe that’s because they knew that Mr Nwachukwu was to bring on the real-life William Kamkwamba to join them on stage for the final bows – and that was undoubtedly a moment to treasure.

The Boy Who Harnessed the Wind plays at the Swan Theatre until 28^th March, and then it transfers to the Soho Place in London from 25^th April to 18^th July.

Three-sy Does It!

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra Valentine’s Opera Gala, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 15th February 2026

Posted on February 16, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra’s Valentine’s gift this year was an Opera Gala played to a busy and enthusiastic audience in the Derngate auditorium. A Sunday matinee, it was a relatively informal affair, totally lacking in Classical Concert Stuffiness and simply designed for everyone to have a good time.

Our conductor was Jordan de Souza, currently Music Director of Theater Dortmund and Chief Conductor of the Dortmund Philharmoniker. It was, he confessed, his first visit to Northampton, and we trust it won’t be his last. He’s one of those very involved conductors, full of excitable facial expressions designed to get the best out of the orchestra and a playful, almost mischievous mentality that shows just how much he has fun up on the podium.

The programme was a chocolate box selection of opera highlights, with four purely orchestral pieces and twelve arias. We started with the orchestra on fine form with a superb rendition of Strauss’ Die Fledermaus Overture, full of lush strings, arresting percussion and terrific expression. The orchestra were particularly daring with those slight pauses during the famous waltz; you could truly visualise the voluminous swirling dresses of those Viennese ladies. A fantastic start.

Then we met our two opera soloists. First up, tenor Nicky Spence OBE, a relaxed, light-hearted presence who grew cheekier as the concert progressed, and who sported an enviably glittering pair of slippers as his footwear. He started off with possibly the most serious aria of the programme, Vainement, ma bien-aimée from Lalo’s Le roi d’Ys, all of which was new to me. Then soprano Anne-Marie MacIntosh sang Ah! je ris de me voir si belle from Gounod’s Faust, better known as The Jewel Song.

Mr Spence returned for En fermant les yeux from Massenet’s Manon, a piece I had not heard before, and which was stunningly beautiful. Then it was Ms MacIntosh’s turn again with Micaela’s aria Je dis que rien ne m’épouvante from Bizet’s Carmen. Hats off to the RPO for giving us one of Micaela’s arias rather than Carmen’s for a change! This led into a performance of the first three parts of the Carmen Suite No 1, the Prelude, Aragonaise and Intermezzo. The powerful emphasis on those opening strings of the Prelude gave it a truly menacing impact. The audience was enjoying the performance so much that we broke etiquette and applauded after the Aragonaise. In some concerts, a conductor might have held his gaze towards the orchestra and made the applause freeze away; but on this occasion Mr de Souza turned to us and welcomed it, which confirmed the informality of the event and the fact that we were all there just to enjoy ourselves.

Mr Spence returned with a short entertaining introduction to his next piece, Tosti’s L’ultima canzone, explaining that it didn’t mean The Last Pizza. And then he was joined by Ms MacIntosh for O soave fanciulla, the aria that wraps up Act 1 of Puccini’s La Bohème, and it was with searing emotion that we went into the interval.

The second half started with the Prelude to Act 1 of Verdi’s La Traviata, followed by Ms MacIntosh singing Ah, fors’è lui… Sempre libera from the same opera. She has a wonderful way of acting out her singing so that you really understand the character behind the aria. Then Mr Spence sang Lensky’s Aria from Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin, another immensely powerful and affecting performance. This was followed by the orchestra once again in full swing with the Polonaise from Eugene Onegin, a marvellously stirring and invigorating piece of music.

Into the home straight, Ms MacIntosh sang Caro nome from Verdi’s Rigoletto, a delightfully simple and plaintive aria that really touched everyone’s heart; and then Mr Spence gave us the rousing Dein ist mein ganzes Herz from Lehar’s Das Land des Lächelns – one of those pieces of music that you know you know, yet you can’t quite place; definitely it should have its place in Classical Music’s top 50 tunes. Ms MacIntosh joined him for Lippen schweigen from Lehar’s Merry Widow, sung in English, and the whole concert concluded with the celebratory Brindisi from La Traviata. Mr de Souza carefully regulated our clapping along so that we could join in without ruining the music, and it was a superb way to end an afternoon of pure joy. The RPO are next in town in June for another Sunday matinee performance of Beethoven’s Fifth – see you there!

Five Alive, Let Music Thrive!

The Points of View Challenge – Maria Concepción – Katherine Anne Porter

Posted on February 9, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

Katherine Anne Porter (1890 – 1980)

American journalist, essayist, short story writer, novelist, poet, and political activist, best known for her best-selling novel Ship of Fools. In 1966, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and the U.S. National Book Award for The Collected Stories of Katherine Anne Porter. Maria Concepción was first published in The Century Magazine in December 1922 and in Flowering Judas and Other Stories on January 1^st1935.

Available to read online here.

This is the first of three stories in the volume Points of View to be given the style classification by Moffett and McElheny of Anonymous Narration – Dual Character Point of View. Their introduction begins: “The narrators of the next three stories continue to offer the kinds of knowledge that a confidant, eyewitness or chorus might supply, but they expand the confidant’s role as informer by presenting the inner life of two characters.”

Spoiler alert – if you haven’t read the story yet and want to before you read the summary of it below, stop now!

Maria Concepción

A proud, strong, assertive, Christian woman, 18-year-old Maria Concepción makes her way to market, quietly excited about the baby she is carrying which, together with husband Juan Villegas, will make her family complete. A desire to eat some honey causes her to stop at the house of old Lupe and her daughter, 15-year-old Maria Rosa, a beekeeper from whom she has often bought honey in the past. She hears laughter from within and is amused to discover Maria Rosa has male company. However, when she realises the man is her own husband, Juan Villegas, her marital idyll is shattered.

She continues with her day, stupefied and under a cloud. We soon discover that Juan has run away with Maria Rosa and abandoned Maria Concepción, and that four days after she gives birth to her baby, it dies. She lives a solitary, bitter existence. Juan, meanwhile, had gone to war, but had deserted, and he and Maria Rosa are captured by military police; only an intervention from a senior officer, who recognises Juan from his work at the archaeological dig, where the officer’s friend is in charge, saves him from being shot.

Juan has lost his initial infatuation with the talkative Maria Rosa but he still prefers her company; nevertheless, he returns to Maria Concepción because they are married and he looks forward to having a relationship with both women. Maria Concepción is unmoved by his return, but realising she is now in a position of power, she murders Maria Rosa. Juan has no choice but to accept this; he and the whole community come together to protect her from the police questioning. The police know she killed her but cannot prove it. And, in her final act of revenge against Maria Rosa, she takes her baby as her own.

Dense and intense, this short story is notable for its intricate characterisations, powerful use of language and its cunning, seamless integration of narrative with conversation. Even from its first paragraph, the writing is sensuous and slow to read: “the white dusty road, where the maguey thorns and the treacherous curved spines of organ cactus had not gathered so profusely.” When describing Maria Rosa and Lupe’s jacal, Porter’s description is rounded and heavily visual: “The leaning jacal of dried rush-withes and corn sheaves, bound to tall saplings thrust into the earth, roofed with yellowed maguey leaves flattened and overlapping like shingles, hunched drowsy and fragrant in the warmth of noonday. The hives, similarly made, were scattered towards the back of the clearing, like small mounds of clean vegetable refuse. Over each mound there hung a dusty golden shimmer of bees.”

When Maria Concepción realises that her husband is having an affair with Maria Rosa, the sensual language reflects the physical effect it has on her body: “María Concepción did not stir nor breathe for some seconds. Her forehead was cold, and yet boiling water seemed to be pouring slowly along her spine. An unaccountable pain was in her knees, as if they were broken.” Porter says that Maria Concepción is lost under a “heavy cloud”, before she can gather her senses about her and carry on with her day. “She burned all over now, as if a layer of tiny fig-cactus bristles, as cruel as spun glass, had crawled under her skin.”

Porter also uses sensual language to describe Juan; pleased with his exploits, “he was walking in the early sunshine, smelling the good smells of ripening cactus-figs, peaches, and melons, of pungent berries dangling from the pepper-trees, and the smoke of his cigarette under his nose. He was on his way to civilian life with his patient chief. His situation was ineffably perfect, and he swallowed it whole.”

The characterisation of Maria Concepción herself is particularly memorable. Upright, Christian – to the extent that she insisted on paying extra to be married in church, rather than outside it, dependable, honest, but “always as proud as if she owned a hacienda”. This pride doesn’t make her unpopular within her community, however; they see her pride as the reason that her baby died shortly after birth, “so they pitied her”. As soon as she realises that her husband has been unfaithful, her motivation is instantly one of revenge: “She wished to sit down quietly and wait for her death, but not until she had cut the throats of her man and that girl who were laughing and kissing under the cornstalks.”

She makes an excellent contrast with her husband, Juan, who is teased by his boss for his constant infidelities, and who reacts to being saved from being shot, with “a definite air of swagger about him. His hat, of unreasonable dimensions and embroidered with silver thread, hung over one eyebrow, secured at the back by a cord of silver dripping with bright blue tassels. His shirt was of a checkerboard pattern in green and black, his white cotton trousers were bound by a belt of yellow leather tooled in red.” Juan is the embodiment of a vain strutting peacock in comparison with his reserved, quiet, Christian wife. Used to having his cake and eating it, Porter describes Juan’s expression as “the proper blend of masculine triumph and sentimental melancholy. It was pleasant to see himself in the rôle of hero to two such desirable women.”

It’s the character of Lupe, the old pagan woman who believes in superstition, and whose daughter has been murdered, who holds the final power over Maria Concepción’s future; “a glance at the listening circle assured Lupe of their thrilled attention. She enjoyed the dangerous importance of her situation. She could have ruined that María Concepción with a word, but it was even sweeter to make fools of these gendarmes who went about spying on honest people.”

The story itself, of a wronged woman taking revenge and her community supporting her, examines traditional gender roles and societal structure, but is perhaps of less significance than the effective use of language and the thoroughly convincing characterisations that fill the tale.

The next story in the anthology is the second of three to be classified by Moffett and McElheny as Anonymous Narration – Dual Character Point of View, Unlighted Lamps by Sherwood Anderson.

Edinburgh Fringe Venue Analysis (just for fun!) – Which venue gets the most five stars?

Posted on February 6, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

With the first shows at the 2026 Edinburgh Fringe being announced in less than a week’s time, I thought it would be a bit of fun to take a look back at my last four years of Fringegoing, and analyse which venues get the best star ratings. Obviously, this is (almost certainly) meaningless – but maybe it’s an indication of where you might place a lucky punt if you’ve got absolutely no idea which show to see.

Ignoring the couple of venues that we’ve only visited once over the past four years, I’ve grouped shows within their overall venue umbrella – so, for example, Underbelly includes Bristo Square, George Square, Cowgate and the Circus Ground on the Meadows, and The Space includes Surgeons’ Hall, Niddry Street, High Street, Symposium Hall and more.

To arrive at the results, I simply took the number of shows we had seen at each group of venues, then added up all the star ratings the shows there had received – and divided the one into the other.

Time to produce the results!

Multi-Arts Venues:

12^th – Greenside – 3.333

11^th – Paradise – 3.4

10^th – The Space – 3.406

9^th – Hill Street Theatre – 3.6

8^th – Gilded Balloon – 3.657

7^th – Bedlam Theatre – 3.667

6^th – C Arts Venues – 3.8

5^th – Pleasance – 3.878

4^th – Underbelly – 3.982

3^rd – Zoo Venues – 4.0

2^nd – Summerhall – 4.069

And the winner is:

1^st – Assembly – 4.106

Comedy Venues:

6^th – Just the Tonic – 3.182

5^th – Hoots – 3.222

4^th – Laughing Horse – 3.6

3^rd – PBH Free Festival – 3.833

2^nd – The Stand – 4.167

And the winner is:

1^st – Monkey Barrel – 4.312

There’s one other venue that’s not been included here: Dance Base, which was independent up till 2025 but now comes under the Assembly banner. But their overall rating turned in at a staggering 4.667 (but that is only from three shows!)

Just a bit of fun to get your Fringe saliva going before the first shows are revealed! If you have any favourite or preferred Edinburgh Fringe venues, do let me know in the comments!

Review – All is But Fantasy, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 4th February 2026

Posted on February 5, 2026 by therealchrisparkle

©Marc Brenner

Arresting, challenging and innovative, Whitney White’s All is But Fantasy blasts the stage of the RSC’s Other Place like a subversive hurricane, tossing out ideas and insights as debris in its wake. Whitney White speaks with passion and conviction of her love for Shakespeare that started at an early age and has become unstoppable, and she is obviously thrilled to be performing her play at the heart of Shakespeare Country in Stratford-upon-Avon.

©Marc Brenner

It’s an ambitious project and it’s clear to see that Ms White herself is an ambitious person – and if that includes playing Richard III, sobeit. She’s certainly not content with being just the maid or playing one of the roles that inevitably gets cut. What disturbs her is that all Shakespeare’s strong women never seem to make it to Act Five. Their ambitions, their dreams, their potential, never get to full fruition – and Ms White says it’s time she did something about it.

©Marc Brenner

All is But Fantasy – that must be a quote from Shakespeare, no? Well, actually not quite. But Whitney White certainly had fantasy in mind when she created this two-part gig-theatre production, examining four of Shakespeare’s iconic characters from a fresh, new perspective. She takes the formidable Lady Macbeth, Emilia (from Othello), Juliet and Richard III out of their natural environment and places them centre stage in a rock gig. Actors playing instruments on stage is now commonplace, but the concept of placing them in a live concert is something else.

©Marc Brenner

But there’s much more to this than some kind of elaboration on Six. Accompanied by her protective posse of three witches – that’s how they’re described in the programme, don’t blame me – White delves deeper into who these women really are, what they represent, and the assumptions made about them over centuries of men being in charge, particularly in respect of the problems that black women additionally face when tackling Shakespeare’s works. For me, the most exciting aspect of the two productions is that they allow you – indeed encourage you – to question everything you know about Shakespeare’s work and characters. Who, for example, when asked is Othello a good play, would dare reply no? To be fair, at yesterday’s performance we all agreed that Othello is a good play, but it made me think again of those assumptions that have indoctrinated us through our English Literature lessons and the general received wisdom of the years.

©Marc Brenner

You could watch both plays in either order, but to get the deepest understanding of what’s going on, definitely start with Part One – Lady Macbeth and Emilia. Whitney White sets the informal tone right from the start, instantly breaking the fourth wall, introducing us to the other cast members, and explaining what has led her to this point. At times it feels like a Dramaturgy Group Therapy Session, with everyone chipping in their thoughts as to where the emphases should lie and which risks to take. There’s also a lightly suggested ongoing narrative about the relationships between the cast members as well as the parts they’re playing. It’s not quite at Kiss Me Kate levels, but it adds an entertaining side intrigue.

©Marc Brenner

The productions constantly reveal fresh insights into Shakespeare’s characters, not just those named in the titles of the four separate playlets. Iago making sexist and racist jokes is an outstandingly uncomfortable moment but gives us a terrific glimpse of what he would be like in the 21^st century. Juliette Crosbie sweeps on stage as Desdemona, her style, costume and confidence channelling full-on 1960s Marianne Faithfull. Whilst Whitney White finds it hard to get under the skin of Juliet, again needing Ms Crosbie to provide a shadow Juliet to use as a theatrical template, Daniel Krikler, the only man in the company, shows us how he learns what it is to become Romeo. When the gender roles are reversed in the final sequence, Richard III, what primarily comes across is that it doesn’t matter which gender plays which part, it’s the individual characterisations and motivations that count.

©Marc Brenner

Soutra Gilmour has wisely left a largely empty set for the actors, with the addition of simple but very effective elements to create context – a red carpet for Macbeth’s banquet, a coffin for Richard III, and a playground climbing frame to suggest both Juliet’s balcony and the playfulness of the youngsters who find themselves at the heart of that particular tragedy. Ryan Day’s lighting design is also simple but extremely effective in adding atmosphere and tension.

©Marc Brenner

It’s full of theatrical brilliance; a surprise gunshot at one point terrifies the life out of both the cast and the audience, Romeo betrays the thrill at getting close to Juliet by excitedly cavorting on her climbing frame, White’s supporting crowd surprise us when they turn on her for making it all about her, and there’s an unexpected disappointment for musician Nick Lee when Macbeth loses it at the banquet.

©Marc Brenner

And I haven’t mentioned the music! It’s more a play with music than a musical, but Tom Knowles and his band of four do a splendid job with not only White’s songs but also the frequently sinister incidental music that just hovers ominously in the background. The tunes are enjoyable and atmospheric, although the lyrics have a tendency towards being repetitious, occasionally hammering home their message without subtlety – but then, what do I know, I’m no rock expert.

©Marc Brenner

The cast are uniformly excellent – Renee Lamb, Georgina Onuorah, Timmika Ramsay, Juliette Crosbie and Daniel Krikler are a constant delight with all that attitude, humour, and the essential mix of strength and vulnerability that is at the core of humanity. Their vocals are outstanding and each lends their own power and individuality to every characterisation. And, at the heart of it all, Whitney White holds the whole show together with a must-see performance of voice, presence, integrity and sheer wow factor.

©Marc Brenner

Despite its best intentions – maybe even because of it – All is But Fantasy is an uneven piece, with the clarity and insights of Lady Macbeth and Emilia diminishing to the point where Richard III sometimes feels messy and hard to follow. Teeming with ideas, nevertheless, it leaves you teeming with ideas of your own, sparking your own debate about these characters and the relationship between Tudor/Jacobean Shakespeare and his 21st-century counterpart. A thrilling and endlessly surprising subversion of traditional Shakespearean opinions, performed with true heart and commitment.

Four They’re Jolly Good Fellows!