Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 25th October 2025

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It’s so great to see Screaming Blue Murder back in rude health in the Underground where it belongs. Sold out too – always rewarding when the start is slightly delayed by staff having to bring in extra chairs. Our genial host Dan Evans was on tippety-top form as he negotiated the slings and arrows of twins Laura and Henry’s joint 40th birthday party outing, with a considerable number of the audience vocally in support of the uninhibited pair. If that wasn’t enough, another lady on the front row said she had a dream about Dan the night before and – let’s just say – he had proved himself to be all man. Well. If that isn’t sexual harassment in the workplace, I don’t know what is. Dan spent most of the show avoiding her gaze or quietly smug about his sexual expertise.

Our first act, new to Northampton but not to us, was Abigoliah Schamaun, someone we’ve seen many times at the Edinburgh Fringe and who always brings a gutsy kick up any proceedings. Ohio’s loss is London’s gain, as Abigoliah gave us her impressions on how an American survives in the UK, including our (apparent) obsession with butter in a sandwich – I mean, it’s what butter was made for, honestly – how sexy an English accent is, and how to deal with fellow Americans on a long train journey. Her comedy is intelligent, relatable, and delightfully teasing. A fantastic start to the evening.

Next up was Toussaint Douglass, who had a great Edinburgh Fringe this year with his Accessible Pigeon Material; successful no doubt because he tried it out at Northampton’s Comedy Crate earlier this summer. No pigeon on Saturday night, just his incredibly funny and recognisable content about being in a relationship for eight years, having an 87-year-old flatmate (his Grandma) and the reasons for his personal ambition to die alone. He has a marvellously disarming style; very engaging and confiding, almost physically cosying up to the audience to get across his comic gems. His beautifully delivered final jokes, about how his bedroom activity can be likened to a football manager, provided the best laughs of the night.

Our headliner was Tony Law, someone who you either “get” or you don’t, and in the past I’ve found that I usually don’t get his surreal and otherworldly humour. But on this occasion, he knocked it out of the park. Brilliant use of props for completely throwaway purposes, and a hilarious use of accents, including a damn fine stab at the bizarre Northampton accent which is like a cross between Cockney and Brummie. His rapport with the audience was exceptional, and we were laughing about his act all the way home.

That was the last Screaming Blue for 2025 but there are already four gigs in 2026 on sale. Can’t wait!

Review – Safe Space, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 23rd October 2025

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When I was a kid, Statues meant a game where you had to freeze whenever the music stopped or someone looked at you. Ah, the halcyon days of innocence! Today, statues are just as likely to be a symbol of oppression or a monument to the unforgivable. Who can forget the statue of Saddam Hussein being toppled in 2003, or the division caused by chucking the statue of Edward Colston into Bristol harbour; or the efforts of the police to protect the statue of Winston Churchill during recent protests, and the debate over the future of the statue of Cecil Rhodes at Oriel College Oxford?

In 2017, Colhoun College, part of Yale University, changed its name to Grace Hopper College, in honour of the computer scientist, mathematician and Rear Admiral who had earned two doctorates from Yale. But there had been calls for the college to change its name since the 1960s, John C. Colhoun having been an outspoken supporter of slavery. Safe Space is Jamie Bogyo’s first play, and he based it on the real-life events that happened at Yale University in 2016/7, where he studied playwrighting. When you enter the auditorium at the Minerva Theatre you are immediately confronted by an imposing statue of Colhoun, suitably bespattered by bird droppings, and you just know he’s going to be a problematic presence.

However, there’s more to life at Yale than being concerned about its alumni’s provocative pasts. I had no idea that, along with all the other Ivy League universities, there is a long tradition of student a cappella singing; today there is even a National (and International) Championship of Collegiate A Cappella. Bogyo inserts a cappella moments into his plot to reflect the wider aspects of college life. There is also a subplot of rivalry between students to take control of influential student groups, with jealousy, false friendships and distrust rife. And there’s also that awkward uncertainty about accidentally saying the wrong thing or using the wrong word when it comes to matters of race or equality; come on, even the most proudly woke of us has been there.

So that’s at least three plots, each of which could sustain a full-length play. Unfortunately, Bogyo has concatenated them all together, with the result that none of them is examined in sufficient detail to create a cohesive and satisfying narrative. Questions, ideas, arguments evolve, but then go nowhere. For example, what damage was done to the statue, and who did it (we never find out, despite an extended scene where the students are waiting to be grilled by the principals). Act One ends on a very lightweight non sequitur that sends us into the interval deflated. One character has an unexpected panic attack, following which we spend a minute or two calming him down – but it is an event that has no bearing on anything that either precedes or follows it. Another truly chaotic and overly busy scene culminates with a fist being smashed through an artwork, but it goes nowhere.

The final scene uses a cappella in a highly unlikely attempt at a reconciliation and we’ve no idea whether the reconciliation is successful. The only issue that receives some kind of resolution is that a decision is made to rename the college – but it’s presented in a very underwhelming way, by disparate characters doomscrolling on their phones. Of course, leaving some issues unresolved is fine – real life is like that – but leaving virtually everything up in the air is annoying. Why did the couple who have sex act so unpleasantly to each other the next day? Why did one of the characters turn from being a supportive friend to a ruthless enemy on the flick of a coin? There’s too much going on and not enough sense being made.

Nevertheless, there’s much to enjoy in the performances and production as a whole. Khadija Raza’s set cleverly adapts to different student bedrooms – basic and luxurious, as well as the intimidating corridor outside the principal’s office and the quadrangle around the statue. The costumes are decently studenty and delightfully formal for the a cappella. Talking of which, the singing is beautiful; both Jamie Bogyo (Connor) and Ernest Kingsley Jr (Isaiah) have exquisitely delicate voices and their harmonies in that final scene – for all its dramatic faults and suspension of belief – are stunning.

All the performances are first rate; Ivan Oyik’s earnestly enthusiastic Omar is a very believable portrayal of a scholarship boy surprised at how well he has done. Bola Akeju almost has to act two characterisations – the friendly supportive Stacy of the opening scenes and the ruthlessly dismissive Stacy once she has achieved power. Céline Buckens is excellent as Connor’s unimpressed girlfriend Annabelle, amusingly checking her phone whilst he’s giving it his everything under the duvet. Jamie Bogyo’s Connor convinces as the kind of guy who simply assumes everything he says is right and that every decent person would always agree with him, and Ernest Kingsley Jr is superb in the most interesting role of Isaiah, the quiet, unassuming student who keeps his beliefs to himself until he is forced to assert his individuality.

It’s a real shame that, despite these excellent elements, the play itself lets the rest of the production down. It’s full of promise, but the end result just doesn’t hang together. So many questions, so few attempts at providing answers. It’s rather like a mass of jangling muscles that need some strong massaging in order to smooth them out and make them do the work they’re meant to. And it’s uncomfortable to be so critical of a writer’s first staged work because there’s obviously a very important and riveting play lurking just beneath the surface – but unfortunately, this isn’t it.

Two Disappointing for More!

Review/Preview – Christian Dart: Gumshoe! Soho Theatre Dean Street London, 7 – 8 November 2025

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GumshoeChristian Dart brings his smash hit Edinburgh show Gumshoe to the Soho Theatre in Dean Street London for two nights in November. It’s a clever mash-up of a Philip Marlowe/Raymond Chandler 1940s New York private detective hero (for want of a better word) with contemporary improv, as a member of the audience provides Christian with the bare facts of what will be his final case to solve. As a result, no two shows are ever the same, which means you never have to confine yourself to just one performance.

Christian DartHis improv skills are second-to-none – he is a member of the comedy group The Bad Clowns – and he manages to create a proper story that genuinely holds water from just fragments of ideas. No spoilers, but expect a lot of gun shooting and twirling, sassy dames, dead colleagues, a real live jewel theft, and even a bit of song and dance. I can only assume Mr Dart has a very high dry-cleaning bill.

C DartThe show makes excellent use of a complex and technically demanding sequence of sound cues which constantly keep the audience (as well as Christian) on their toes. It’s very high on energy, and if you sit in the front row you may well get involved in some of the plot – but it’s always funny and never humiliating or stressful!

The name's GumshoeUnpredictable, frenetic (but in a good way) and exhilarating, this is the kind of show you have to throw yourself wholeheartedly into – the more you put in, the more you get out. You’ll even find out whodunit in the end – although this is definitely a case of the journey being more important than the conclusion! Madcap, racy and pacy, and incredibly good-humoured, this is an hour of enormous fun and impressive imagination. Highly recommended!

Production photos by Johanna Dart Design & Photography

4-starsFour He’s a Jolly Good Fellow!

You can get tickets to see the show at the Soho Theatre here.

Review – Kae Kurd, What’s O’Kurd, Underground at the Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 17th October 2025

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It’s always exciting to go to a comedy gig and not have a clue about the comedians you’re going to see. Kae Kurd is a new name to me, so I thought I would give him a try and it turns out a large number of the comedy goers of Northampton felt the same! It was great to be part of a truly diverse audience too; all ages, all ethnicities coming together for an evening of fun. More of this please.

But first – Kae Kurd’s support act, the friendly face of Muhsin Yesilada, again new to me, but a perfect choice to start the evening with a swing. Engaging, building a confident rapport with the crowd, he delivered his material in a relaxed and surefooted style, giving every comic observation the time and space it needed to land. He has some excellent sequences concerning dealing with his horrible nephew, and that delicious pleasure you can take when an irritating child doesn’t get everything their own way. When he gently teased some latecomers, who protested their lateness because outside they’d just met Kae Kurd, his instant response was “Me too!” A very enjoyable opening act.

After the interval we welcomed Kae Kurd, another engaging stage presence with a very effective delivery style. He presents his act in quite a static way and comes across as perhaps surprisingly low energy; but his tone is unpredictable, and his material is precise, hard-hitting and frequently goes where angels fear to tread. In a deft way of getting to know the audience – and us getting to know each other – he asks for a cheer if you’re in your 20s, then your 30s, your 40s and 50s. This allows him to chat to random people in those age brackets, voicing his opinions and observations about what people are like as they get older. I had to stay silent, as I presume he has no idea there were 60+ year olds there!

He unashamedly hates (strong word, but bear with me) people in their 20s, for all their modern hang-ups and idiosyncrasies. Being somewhere in his 30s himself, that makes him fit nicely into a niche comedic role of grumpy young man. His observations are telling and funny and remarkably true. Other comedy gems of the night included an account of his time in Zambia avoiding crocodiles and hippos, an exploration of whether Donald Trump would get on with choices of pronouns and how it’s easier to be right wing than left wing. I also loved his imagining how he’d get on talking about mental health issues to his father who fought against Saddam Hussein.

He is very quick witted on stage, with a great ability to remember facts about the audience members which he uses to excellent callback effect. It’s intelligent, thought-provoking comedy that’s always relatable, and I’ll definitely follow his career with interest!

 

Review – Entertaining Mr Sloane, Young Vic, London, 15th October 2025

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1964. The year of A Hard Day’s Night and Little Red Rooster, Mary Quant and Bobby Charlton. Harold Wilson became the first Labour Prime Minister since Clement Attlee. And 31-year-old Joe Orton (although he claimed he was 25 in the original programme) had his first stage play, Entertaining Mr Sloane, performed at the Arts Theatre in London. The Guardian called it “a milk-curdling essay in lower-middle-class nihilism” but owing to the support, both financial and moral, of none other than Sir Terence Rattigan, it transferred to Wyndhams’ and had a brief but artistically successful run, winning the London Critics’ Variety award for the best play of 1964.

This is a welcome and inspired choice for Nadia Fall’s first production in charge of the Young Vic. In case you don’t know: Kath lives with her father, Kemp, (the Dadda) and has a spare room which she is going to let out to Mr Sloane. He is 20, a loner; physically appealing in a dangerous way, and it only takes her twenty or so minutes to find a reason for her to remove his trousers. Her brother, Ed, appears influential and wealthy; he doesn’t trust any potential lodgers and intends to send him packing, until he too finds Sloane physically appealing and tries to find a way to get closer to him. Sloane seems inexperienced but knows precisely what both brother and sister are after and works to play the situation to his advantage. The Dadda, however, recognises Sloane as the murderer of his ex-employer. If things weren’t already dark enough, they quickly get darker.

Few creative artists make such a huge mark that they deserve their own adjective, but Ortonesque survives as the only concise way of capturing his particular brand of innovative, dangerous, surreal, sexually charged, axis-changing and rivetingly funny drama. Entertaining Mr Sloane is a classic subversion of a traditional drawing-room comedy; three acts, one location, pretentions to moderate wealth and social influence, it’s no wonder that his work is a natural crossover product of the likes of Coward and Rattigan with Pinter and Osborne.

When the text was sent to the Lord Chamberlain’s office for a licence, the only thing the censor picked up on was the overt sexual activity between Kath and Sloane; all the other undercurrents in the play simply went unnoticed. Seeing Entertaining Mr Sloane today, over sixty years since it first appeared, gives you a strangely nostalgic feel for the Swinging Sixties. You can almost taste how shocking some reactionaries would have found it, and how deliciously it would have appealed to the progressives.

What makes this play stand out though is Orton’s superlative writing skills. The words his characters speak are subtle and nuanced, and their meanings are indirect; his ear for conversational patterns is outstanding. He has that enviable ability to present an awkward, uncomfortable, potentially tragic situation and then instantly send it up so that you burst out laughing and then hate yourself for your insensitivity. No subject is ever out of bounds for Orton. Domestic violence, mistreatment of the elderly, rape and assaults; Kemp grumbles about the number of foreigners coming into the country, committing sexual assaults – some prejudices don’t change.

Peter McKintosh’s set is a work of art in itself. When you enter the auditorium a jumble of domestic items and furniture dangle suspended from the ceiling – chairs, a pram, an ironing board, an airer, and so on; and around the base, a clutter of junk and debris surround the circular stage. Orton points out that Kath and Kemp’s house is next door to rubbish tip, which gave the inspiration for the set. It’s a nice idea, but it’s really only a mention in passing, so it’s neither vital to the plot, nor does it get in the way. The decision to stage the play in the round – because, as confirmed in a programme note, it is a voyeuristic play – works well. There is no hiding place in Entertaining Mr Sloane and there is no hiding place on the set either.

Richard Howell’s lighting design allows for some ingenious effects; off-stage characters are highlighted as if frozen in time, slow-motion sequences are lit artificially to create an other worldliness, and there is a stunningly impactful, strobe-filled start to Act Two which sees Sloane transformed from subdued semi-formal clothing to leather joy boy (the uniform Ed has chosen for him), an effect that fully deserves its own round of applause from the audience. Nadia Fall has made a few other fascinating directorial choices, including an impressive tug-of-love/semi-BDSM final tableau as Kath and Ed rope up the powerless Sloane with telephone wires graphically to convey how successfully the arch manipulator Sloane has been out-manipulated by the brother and sister. I am always a sucker for effective stage combat and the scene where Sloane batters Kemp is fantastically convincing.

Tamzin Outhwaite gives a wonderfully entertaining performance as Kath, a repressed sex kitten in a pinny who moves into Sloane’s space as a surrogate Mummy, unhesitatingly taking the lead whilst protesting her respectability. Her performance is perhaps more geared towards the comedy of the situation than the darkness, with lovely moments with her false teeth, and terrific comic timing of Orton’s killer lines. Daniel Cerqueira’s Ed is a chain-smoking, snide wannabe-bully who allows himself to be distracted and influenced by Sloane, almost but never quite taking control of situations. His vocal delivery reminded me strongly of the comedian Micky Flanagan, which was slightly unsettling; but it’s a convincing portrayal of someone fighting to stay one step ahead.

Christopher Fairbank is excellent as Kemp, a delightfully grubby old man, who’s seen it all and isn’t fooled by anyone, but knows he has to behave if he wants to keep a roof over his head. And, in an outstanding stage debut, Jordan Stephens is superb as Sloane, stringing the siblings along with just the right level of innocence until he flashes into intense anger and violence.

The production does come across as a little ponderous at first, with Act One feeling a little static, with the characters slow to develop. Once the second Act kicks in, the pace builds, and the nastiness intensifies to reach its exciting and unusual conclusion. An excellent opportunity to see Orton’s first stage work – and to reflect on how he could potentially have carved out an immensely successful career had he lived.

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – Cyrano de Bergerac, Royal Shakespeare Company at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, 7th October 2025

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If there’s one thing that everyone knows about Cyrano de Bergerac, it’s that he was blessed with an enormous conk. There’s no other way of putting it; coquettishly disguised in the promotional image for the production on the programme and posters. It blights Cyrano’s life, despite his bravura and positivity, and always holds him back from telling his true feelings for fear of rejection and ridicule.

Cyrano and RoxaneFor a play that presents as a frothy comedy, Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac, in this new adaptation by Simon Evans and Debris Stevenson, is packed with serious issues. Its essential message – one as old as time – is to be yourself; arguably none of the chief protagonists achieve this, and (spoiler alert) it doesn’t end happily for any of them. The play also stresses the significance of language; much as one may philosophise today that “the destination is not as important as the journey”, in CdB, the meaning of what you say is not as important as the way you say it. Roxane and Christian believe that they are in love with each other, but they need Cyrano to express it for them in his miraculously eloquent way. If it was left to Christian, all Roxane would hear is I Love You and it’s just not enough embellishment. Honestly, you can’t satisfy some people.

Roxane and ChristianIn a rewarding development from Anthony Burgess’ long-established translation of the play, in this production the sense of verse is much more modern and less intrusive. Rostand’s original 1897 play is written in verse and Burgess’ adaptation is heavy-handed and, frankly, overwhelming. Evans and Stevenson have created a much subtler format, creating a metrical language for each main character, but it’s only Cyrano’s lines that feel like verse, and they help to make the character stand out above the crowd.

Ragueneau and ChristianThey’ve made some sensible cuts to the original – probably they could have made more, as that first scene set in the theatre still has the ability to irritate with its total irrelevance to the rest of the play. The staging of that scene is bizarrely cumbersome. Not only do we all have to stand for the entrance of Comte de Guiche – I could see him pointedly waiting for me to get on my feet – three members of the audience are then required to vacate their seats, clutching coats, trying not to spill drinks or drop programmes, to reposition themselves at the side of the auditorium whilst the Comte’s party move into their prime position; only for the party to move out again and have the audience members return again – a frustratingly annoying sequence that constantly obstructed my view with people standing, heads bobbing, and all that shenanigans.

CyranoOverall, however, it’s a very satisfying modern reworking of the text; delightfully playful even in its darkest moments. There’s an ingenious updating of the acrostic fight scene between Cyrano and Valvert, although given the importance of words in the play, the occasional flinging around of the F word comes across as simply inappropriate or a cheap laugh at best. Still, cheap laughs are enjoyable.

CyranoCyrano tells a running account that he meets death every so often, bows graciously to him, and then tells him to go away, which he obligingly does – until the end. Simon Evans has characterised this presence of death into a small boy, dressed as Cyrano and with his same magisterial nose, quietly observing him on the sidelines at pivotal moments. He’s a creepy presence, and the device works well, although I couldn’t quite understand why your death would be symbolised by you as a child.

de Guiche and RoxaneGrace Smart and Joshie Harriette have worked together to create a sumptuous set with evocative lighting. When you enter the auditorium, you’re struck by the stagey red curtains and beautifully varnished floorboards, all bathed in darkly golden half-light. Later the curtains give way to present a floral courtyard, a battle scene, and eventually a rather overgrown garden of heavenly delights. In another unexpected joy, Cyrano, very amusingly, has his own house band who follow him wherever he goes. Like an ageing television personality keeping up his fading presence, it’s a brilliant idea, beautifully executed and with great incidental compositions by Alex Baranowski.

in battleMost impressive about the entire production are the performances of all members of the cast, not one of whom puts a foot wrong or mis-stresses a syllable. Even the minor characters have their moments of brilliance, like Sunny Chung’s wordplay between rain and pain when Sister Claire is trying to comfort Roxane, or Caolan McCarthy’s Arnauld shouting out I’m a Christian! or Daniel Norford’s Louis’ confession that his shooting aim is useless. Chris Nayak gives a scene-stealing performance as the outrageously hammy actor Monfleury, and Greer Dale-Foulkes is superb as Abigail, constantly surprising everyone by her immediate attraction to handsome men and her extraordinary sexual history. Christian Patterson is excellent as cook/innkeeper Ragueneau, and there’s great support from Philip Cumbus as Le Bret and David Mildon as Carbon.

ChristianScott Handy is a delightfully vain and aloof de Guiche, strutting arrogantly until real life and the levelling of war bring him down to earth. Levi Brown is very convincing as the fresh-faced but hopelessly inexpressive Christian, using his Brummie accent to perfection. Susannah Fielding gives a magnificent performance as Roxane, girlishly excited, full of daring, petulant when Christian cannot find the words she wants to hear and genuinely moving in the final scene.

RoxaneAdrian Lester is fantastic as Cyrano, always maintaining a presence of nobility and eloquence, nimbly cavorting around in his stage combat scenes (the swordplay is stunning throughout), hugely vulnerable when he cannot open his heart; a truly dynamic and captivating performance of the highest quality. His imitating Christian’s Brummie accent to fool the listening Roxane is one of the funniest things I’ve seen and heard in ages.

CyranoIt’s not a perfect production; the overlong first scene has some messy staging, and the battle scenes are difficult to follow. But they are very much compensated for by the performances, the emotions and the comedy highlights. The RSC are on to a winner here!

 

Production photos by Marc Brenner

4-starsFour They’re Jolly Good Fellows!

Review – The Comedy Crate presents British Comedian of the Year Northampton Heat, Cheyne Walk Club, Northampton, 18th September 2025

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The British Comedian of the Year contest is always an exciting event and it’s a privilege that one of the heats is held in Northampton, courtesy of those nice people at The Comedy Crate. This year in the hallowed chambers of the Cheyne Walk Club, nine hopefuls girded their loins with the prospect of being one of two acts chosen by the audience to progress to the next round.

Introduced by the upbeat and ebullient Ian Hayes, the nine acts were broken into chunks of three, with an interval between acts three and four, and between six and seven. After the final act had performed there was an online vote (oooh) and everyone could choose their two favourites.

First off was Sam Coade, who hit the ground running with some excellent routines and some quite off-beat and daring material. It’s impressive how he can carry a silence without concern – something many comedians rarely risk trying – and it worked well to build an understanding of his material. I loved the ambulance driver routine, and his throwaway icebreaker with the audience member on stage was audaciously hilarious.

Rob Coleman followed; we’d seen him once before at the Leicester Comedy Festival in 2018, and his material is still very much in the same vein – using his older looks, grumpy disposition and mad professor hair as a vehicle for convincing us he’s a sex symbol. It’s the comedy of irony, and you either like it or you don’t.

Before the first interval came Benny Shakes; and I’m sure that’s not his real surname. An imposing stage presence, he uses the fact that he has cerebral palsy to excellent comic effect, with an effective delivery, strong punchlines and some very nice callbacks. Very likeable and funny, he brought the first section of the night to a very happy conclusion.

Act number four was Dudley’s own Danny Clives, an unassuming, self-effacing stage presence and someone who uses a “one of life’s losers” persona, which is always risky but Danny nails it, with excellent timing and some clever material. He went down very well with the audience.

Next was Ryan Kenny, with probably the most surreal act of the night. Comic, poet and an element of clown thrown in, his set is very well crafted and executed, and very original, where he basically performs his material twice because he wasn’t happy with it the first time. There’s a lot of talent here; in my opinion, he just needs to make it funnier somehow. But it’s very inventive and entertaining, nonetheless.

Sarah Johnson came next, with some delightfully ribald material and some very funny observations about family life. I felt that she never quite hit her stride, but her description of menopausal symptoms and side effects gave rise to probably the best line of the night.

Our final cluster started with Norwegian Henning Nilsen, with some good material on what it’s like to be a Scandi abroad, why Norway is better than Sweden, and what would have happened if the Vikings had won. He has a solid delivery and confident style, and I think in time he will become a force to be reckoned with.

Our penultimate act, and someone we’ve seen a couple of times, was Peter Brush, another exponent of the “life loser” persona, but with expert, controlled delivery, and material that always ends with a powerful and very funny punchline. Perhaps his stories take a little too long to get to those punchlines, but they’re always worth the wait.

And finishing us off, so to speak, was Rik Goodman, who cuts a rather mysterious and aloof figure on stage, and who quietly builds his material up over the course of the act. Very nicely and subtly self-deprecating, and with very confident delivery, his content did seem rather fixated on penis size, which I think is something most of us can only take so far. Rather like with Mr Coleman earlier, this is something that either works for you or doesn’t.

Then came the voting! An easy to operate app simply asked for the audience’s top two acts – you didn’t have to nominate them in first or second place. And the results came through very quickly. In third place was Benny Shakes, and there was a tie for first place between Sam Coade and Danny Clives. Personally, I only voted for one of those three, but I feel it’s a very fair result; and good luck to Sam and Danny when they go on to fight again in the later stages of the competition!

Review – Breaking the Code, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 16th September 2025

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The debt that we owe Alan Turing cannot be underestimated. Not only for his vital and secret work in cracking the Enigma code, which fundamentally changed the course of the Second World War, but also his understanding of the potential that computers can contribute to the world. The young, idealistic, fresh-faced Turing would dream of an electronic machine that could, with encouragement from Man, think for itself. A pipe dream, surely? But one look at how AI is already encroaching on everything we see on our smartphones is enough to realise that Turing’s vision has come true.

Morcom, Turing, SaraBut Turing was much more than just a brilliant brain, as Hugh Whitemore’s gripping and heartbreaking Breaking the Code makes crystal clear. Whilst at Sherborne school he became emotionally, and possibly sexually, attached to young Christopher Morcom, a fellow student who tragically died of tuberculosis at the age of 18; such an event would devastate anyone. The true nature of their friendship remains the subject of speculation, but it was Turing’s homosexuality, at a time when sex between men was illegal, and considered a matter of gross indecency, that would dominate his private life and lead to his eventual downfall.

Turing and DillyOriginally produced in 1986, Breaking the Code has truly stood the test of time and today feels more relevant than ever. This new production is co-produced by the Royal and Derngate with Landmark Theatres and the Oxford Playhouse, in association with the Liverpool Everyman & Playhouse and HOME, Manchester, and will tour after completing its run in Northampton. Whitemore chose a complex structure – would you expect anything else from Turing? – that plays with time, starting with his initial meeting with detective Mick Ross, reporting a somewhat vague and unlikely burglary, then following Turing’s journey from school to Bletchley Park, interspersed with his friendships with chief cryptographer Dilly Knox and co-worker Pat Green, his continued association with Sherborne, his involvement with the duplicitous Ron Miller, and the increasing suspicions of the police. Drawing the various influences in his life together in this non-sequential manner increases our sense of the overall patchwork which combined to form the man, and Jesse Jones’ clear direction removes any complications so that the story is easy to follow.

Nikos and TuringAn epilogue scene has been added by Neil Bartlett which brings Turing’s legacy into the present day, and emphasises how, over the intervening years, Turing has been fully recognised as a hero and pardoned for his “crime”. It ends the play on a high note of positivity and optimism, but it also brings into sharp focus the fact that those hard-fought rights for equality we take for granted remain perilously close to being lost with no more than an ill-advised X on a ballot paper.

Turing, SmithJonathan Fensom’s simple set works hand-in-hand with Johanna Town’s evocative lighting, with just occasional changes of props and furniture, to suggest all the locations of the story. One very clever trick, just to light the top windows of the set, instantly places us in Turing’s prison cell. Fensom’s costumes also accurately convey the middle-class, educated world of Bletchley Park and Sherborne, with a decent contrast in the epilogue where the sixth former enjoys a relaxed uniform and the modern staff watching him include a recognisably modern PE teacher.

TuringAt the heart of the production is a verbally demanding, robust performance by Mark Edel-Hunt, powerfully conveying Turing’s mental dexterity and his outward reserve that conceals an emotional turmoil within. His ability to make complicated ideas sound comprehensible means that when he gets overcome with the excitement of his work, he loses his stammer and becomes an effortless communicator. Rarely off stage, Mr Edel-Hunt convinces you that he is the real Turing, with a fully rounded portrayal of both man and brain.

Nikos, TuringEngaging in a polite but firm battle of wits with him is Niall Costigan’s detective Mick Ross, suspicious from the start, bearing no ill will but just doing his job. Peter Hamilton Dyer gives a scene-stealing performance as the aging, eccentric, but incisive Dillwyn Knox, and Susie Trayling is superb as both Turing’s formal mother Sara, emotionally distant yet full of surprises, and the wryly intimidating Intelligence Officer Smith. The always reliable Joe Usher is brilliant as Ron, eyeing up Turing as a vehicle for cash; and there’s great support from both Joseph Edwards as Morcom and the Sixth Former, and Carla Harrison-Hodge as Pat.

Turing, Ross, MillerTwo memorable scenes stand out: the riveting moment where Ross interviews both Turing and Miller separately, but it appears that all three are crowded around the table at the same time, in a fantastic piece of direction from Jones. There’s another great scene where Pat and Turing are having a picnic meet-up and he tells her of his oestrogen treatment; he laughs at it, but the archaism and cruelty of the punishment make the laughter ring hollow today. He then goes on to say he should have married Pat without an ounce of self-awareness and Ms Harrison-Hodge’s facial reaction is a treat!

Pat, TuringA play that’s both hard-hitting drama but also filled with rewarding comedy, given a clear and timely revival full of immaculate performances. After Northampton, the tour starts in Barnstaple, then goes on to Oxford, Peterborough, Liverpool and Manchester. Highly recommended!

 

Production photos by Manuel Harlan

Five Alive, Let Theatre Thrive!

Review – Hamlet, Minerva Theatre, Chichester, 8th September 2025

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I can never resist a production of Hamlet, arguably the best play in the English language, and I was intrigued to see what that splendid actor Giles Terera would make of the titular role. Unfortunately, the only date that suited us was an early preview of the production, in fact only the second public performance, so I am fully expecting much of what we saw to have been subject to change before the press night.

Director Justin Audibert’s stated aim with this production is to emphasise the atmosphere of spying and paranoia that dominates the text. Spying? Yes indeed. Examples include Polonius spying on Hamlet behind the arras, and Claudius sending Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to spy on him and report back. Paranoia, however, is the erroneous suspicion that people are out to get you; and in Hamlet, such suspicion is perfectly justified, not erroneous. So I don’t think that Audibert’s production succeeds in conveying a sense of paranoia.

What it does, very successfully, is suggest a very dark society; gloomy, anxious, in literal need of illumination. Ryan Day’s lighting is subdued and subtle until he turns the bright lights on when it becomes brash and overwhelming. Jonathan Girling’s intriguing and tuneful musical compositions link the scenes quietly but compellingly. Lily Arnold’s stark wasteland of a set suggests dusty, infertile earth – something could easily be rotten in that state – with an upstairs stage box from where Claudius and Gertrude can watch the Players at work, doubling up as Gertrude’s bed chamber; safely detached and away from the sordid machinations of the hoi polloi. Another enclosed balcony to the side looks like an Elsinore version of a lean-to and only allows a small degree of visibility to the audience, but it’s a perfect position from which to spy.

Elsewhere, there are a couple of odd directorial choices; why is it Gertrude who crowns King Claudius? And (spoiler alert) in Ophelia’s final appearance the audience is left in no doubt from her dress that she has recently suffered a miscarriage; clearly that’s the interpretation that Audibert deduces from Hamlet and Ophelia’s relationship, yet earlier in the play there has been very little suggestion of any intimacy between the two at all. In fact, one of the most notable aspects to this production is how clinical and cold the emotions are. Hamlet’s reflections on Alas poor Yorick, often an opportunity for a note of genuine sadness and regret, come across as very half-hearted and tentative. Even at the moment when Claudius realises Gertrude has drunk the poison, he conveys all the emotion of that brief moment of annoyance when you can’t remember why you’ve gone into the bedroom.

At three hours and thirty minutes, it is a long production; and whilst the first act rips by, the second act slows to a laboured pace. The climax chosen on which to end Act One (the moment Hamlet steals up behind the praying Claudius and is ready to strike him dead) doesn’t work, because there’s no real dramatic lead-up to this moment and the audience knows full well he’s not going to kill him at this point. It feels false. Elsewhere, well acted though it is, the gravediggers’ scene seems immensely too long and could do with some extensive pruning; and they’ve extended the role of Osric to cover two other minor roles, which detracts from the character’s final scene foppish impact.

There are, however, plenty of good characterisations and scenes. Geoff Aymer’s ghost is an ethereal, gasping presence who really would terrify you if he appeared on your battlements at night. Sam Swann’s Horatio is a warm and supportive friend to Hamlet, and Tim Preston and Jay Saighal’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are much more than the vacuous ciphers that they’re often portrayed. Sara Powell is a very credible Gertrude, with no hidden agenda and no suspicious side to her character, just a kindly mother and wife who wants to do her best under the circumstances. Keir Charles is a superb Polonius, again very believable and realistic, sharing his suspicions and concerns about Hamlet in a series of delightful interactions with the audience; pompous and self-serving, but not in an alienating way, so that he becomes the audience’s favourite. Eve Ponsonby gives us a powerful, hysterical Ophelia who has completely lost control of her senses. And, if you enjoy stage combat like me, the swordfight at the end is genuinely exciting to watch.

I have some uncertainty about two of the main performances but hope that they will have become more rounded by the time press night comes around. Ryan Hutton’s Laertes is fine in his opening scenes but on his return after the death of Polonius, he tends to shout and stab at his lines, rushing through them without much meaning. And Ariyon Bakare’s Claudius is the opposite, giving us a rather quiet and underplayed performance, repressing the character’s sentiments rather than releasing them. But hopefully these performances will have borne fruit by now.

I always think it’s important to establish just how mad or otherwise the character of Hamlet is; and Giles Terera convinces me all along as being 100% sane, with his hawks and handsaws clearly demarcated for all to see. Comfortable with those he trusts and very suspicious of those he doesn’t, his soliloquies are for the most part well-paced and clear, and his storytelling is convincing. Like the rest of the production, his emotions seem sometimes oppressed; but it’s a believable and honest performance that holds the production together well.

It’s atmospheric and easy to follow (you can’t always say that about Hamlet), although perhaps it lacks a little theatrical magic. I was surprised at the number of people (maybe 10% of a sold-out audience) who did not return after the interval, as it’s a perfectly solid production, gimmick-free and respectful of the text. Hopefully time has ironed out any problems it faced during previews, which would probably merit an extra star!

3-starsThree-sy Does It!

Review – The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Royal Shakespeare Company at The Other Place, Stratford-upon-Avon, 30th August 2025

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The Two Gentlemen of Verona never seems much of an attraction for theatre makers. In my fifty-five plus years of theatregoing, I’ve only seen it performed once before, in a 2011 highly modernised version where Valentine and Proteus were rock guitarists, and the director couldn’t decide whether to reveal the unseemly aspects of the play or just do it for laughs. Fast forward fourteen years to Joanna Bowman’s production of the play for the RSC, in another highly modernised version where all the actors are musicians and they deal with the unseemly aspects of the play by removing them completely.

StagingThat’s possibly just as well, as this (now closed) production was very much aimed at introducing young people to Shakespeare, with musical numbers, broad comedy and a real live dog. Already one of Shakespeare’s shortest plays, the cuts to the text brought the show in at just around an hour and half with no interval. On the face of it, it sounds like a decent experiment in modernising, shortening and adjusting the emphasis of the play to make it meaningful and entertaining to a family audience.

Musician castHowever, regrettably there was so much that was wrong with this production that it failed to spark any interest in the plot, and those 90 minutes or so felt interminably long. Basics first: the staging. The Other Place is a marvellous acting space that can be configured differently every time it’s used. For this production, it wasn’t so much performed in the round as in the square, and there were too many sequences where the actors simply had their backs to half the audience, and did not move around sufficiently to keep themselves properly visible to the whole auditorium. In addition, there was a huge metal walkway suspended over the acting space, linking two opposite corners, which allowed for actors to walk from one end to the other or indeed to suspend in the middle. This walkway was directly in front of the upstairs seats, so any actors who were performing at the far end of the stage were obscured; to be honest, it looked like they had their heads cut off. Not a great experience for the upstairs audience.

Two GentsThe main purpose of a theatre production must be to tell its story as clearly as possible. Sadly, I found this production very difficult to follow, certainly due in part to the machete that they’d taken to the original text. For example, it wasn’t until the final scene where the Duke pardons the outlaws that it was obvious that they were outlaws because he had banished them. There also seemed to be no explanation as to why Julia became Sebastian – it just sort of happened. The musical numbers came across as noisy and unclear – a very muddy reverberating sound that made the words difficult to hear, individual instruments doing solos could not be distinguished above the general noise; and two of the lead actors seemed to me to be overacting alarmingly. I don’t know if this was an attempt to make their words clearer to younger ears, but I’m afraid I found it rather hard to take them seriously.

Launce and CrabThey do say, never work with children or animals; nevertheless, here we had Lossi the lurcher, playing the role of Crab, Launce’s dog. I’m sure he’s a good dog and a lovely chap, but he added very little to the proceedings – there were a couple of instances where I think he was meant to do some kind of trick or endearing action, but he just sat there and looked bored. Maybe he took his cue from the audience, because sadly I found this a very dull production, with very little to entertain.

The DukeOf course, it wasn’t all bad. The scene where the Duke (Darrell Brockis) catches Valentine (Jonny Khan) hiding the rope ladder in order to rescue and escape with Silvia was very amusingly done, and the production gave us a fairly good understanding of the character of Proteus (Lance West) and his far from gentlemanly ways. But unfortunately, the good aspects weren’t enough to redeem this disappointing production.

 

Production photos by Helen Murray

Two Disappointing for More!