K.S. Norris is on solid ground with this new play – witches always make good drama. Like Arthur Miller’s classic, The Crucible, and many plays inspired by it, there’s no doubt the topic is fruitful. The history is rich and including ‘Witch Finder General’ Matthew Hopkins as a character a strong idea; it’s all interesting stuff.
Striving for balance is an important move. Norris gives the accused, Elizabeth Clarke, her say – we’d expect that nowadays. But the piece takes time over her tormentor Hopkins, even if insight into the man is a little rushed. A lot rests on Anastasia Babich and Finton McCluskey who take these parts but, regrettably, struggle at times over the understandably manic touches. Babich laughs a little too readily while McCluskey’s character is too prone to panic. But there’s also time with Hopkins’ mentor, his mother and potential fiancé, nice roles for Rob Wallis, Emily Fellows and Nika Kamaeva, that prove to be highlights.
Unfortunately, the script does not help the performers. There are too many olde worlde flourishes. It’s not that they’re unbelievable—Norris has a clear sense of how the Bible filled her subjects’ lives—but the actors stumble over them. While the direction, from Norris and Davy Tennison, aims for control, it ends up slow with the drama and efforts at humour or romance uneven. And there are issues around audibility with too many lines lost. Atmosphere is left to the score from Finn Weston and, while this is strong, it is not enough.
The conclusion has impact, even if the sense of history repeating itself is pessimistic. Perhaps it is best to think of Deliver Us From Evil as an introduction to the topic. The setting and the arguments are clear and there’s plenty to ponder. But the play suffers from offering little that is new, whether in its storytelling, its historical insight or the perspective it offers.
Until 6 August 20226
www.khoasproductions.co.uk
“The Jonathan Larson Project” at the Southwark Playhouse
This tribute show to the titular composer is a must for musical theatre aficionados. With a revival of Larson’s smash hit, Rent, coming soon, the timing is spot on for perfecting your knowledge and picking up trivia. There are numbers from shows never staged and numbers dropped from those that were. Songs written for competitions, cabarets and reviews, and some pop songs too. This packed show offers plenty.
Conceived by Jennifer Ashley Tepper, the selection is varied, the biographical detail light. Each number is energetically directed by John Simpkins, aided by Taylor Walker’s movement direction and Sam Biondolillo’s lighting design. Little unites the show apart from Larson. That’s not necessarily a problem; there is a satisfying distance between the “project” and jukebox biographies.
Unfortunately, the quality is inconsistent. There are strong songs that show the writer’s vision. But too much is included for the sake of interest. You might enjoy the anger on offer from Larson the tyro. You could even make a claim for prescient satire (there’s a song about a 2076 presidential race, and plenty to say about consumerism). But not a lot of humour lands. The rare chance to hear these songs is welcome, but the ratio of those you want to hear again isn’t great.
What ensures success is the quintet of strong performers. Marcus Collins, Max Harwood, Natalie Kassanga, Michael Mather and Imelda Warren-Green all sound great. They make the most of the songs they get to lead. Warren-Green has a great time with ‘Bring on the Booze‘ and shows skill with a very tricky Sondheim-style song. Harwood is particularly well cast for angsty numbers like ‘Rhapsody‘. And even if the material isn’t strong—just too generic or try-hard—Collins and Mather bring great stage presence, while Kassanga makes everything sound stunning.
Highlights arrive when the group focuses on performing together, improving the songs by combining their voices under the skilful musical direction of Livi Van Warmelo. Which makes sense. After all, the choral numbers are the best part of Rent. It’s confirmation like this that fans love, and nice for the rest of us too. So is the show just for theatre buffs? Yes…but only just.
Until 22 August 2026
Photo by Danny Kaan
“Arcadia” at the Duke of York’s Theatre
Transferring from the Old Vic into the venue soon to bear the playwright Tom Stoppard’s name, this revival of his 1993 play deserves its rave reviews. Spanning centuries, as well philosophy and culture, Arcadia is full of big ideas. Director Carrie Cracknell and her superb cast seem a little in awe of the piece, and you can’t blame them – the fusion of sex, science and culture is grand. Without doubt, the production is a first-rate affair. But it can be noted that it never questions Stoppard’s genius.
It’s hard not to be daunted, though. Stoppard’s knowledge is profound as well as extensive. A history of the Enlightenment and Romanticism in the historical sections of the play is reflected on in modern-day moments. Stoppard’s facility with language and his erudite characters make every line intelligent. Naturally, he is writing about a bunch of clever clogs who say a lot of things that make you think. It’s tough to admit, but, this can be tiring and the play, however great, is long.
The focus is an 18th-century maths prodigy called Thomasina, performed impeccably by Isis Hainsworth who manages (no easy task) to convey the girl’s youth as well as her brains. Her tutor Septimus is another smarty pants, and Seamus Dillane conveys his many attractions convincingly. Septimus is almost dangerously charismatic – he is a schoolfriend of Lord Bryon, who he makes seem a little tame – although you might wonder if more questions could be raised about his conduct.
In the present day, the couple are researched (kind of) by modern academics. Nikki Amuka-Bird and Oliver Chris get a good deal of fun from the rivalry between the two writers, while Stoppard’s structure, his provision of hindsight, is hugely rewarding. But while Chris can land laughs as the arrogant historian, the performance comes close to being a little too broad. Would his inflated ego really fool or impress anyone, especially in such rarefied circles?
All of the characters are interesting. Yolanda Kettle has a fine role as Thomasina’s mother, full of the kind of acerbic snobbery that’s great on stage, while Angus Cooper plays another maths whiz struggling with something complicated. Stoppard manages to explain a lot of ideas brilliantly and Cooper’s understated performance is a highlight. Everyone has plenty to say and there is humour and romance, the latter aided by Alex Eales’ stylish set.
Best of all, Cracknell and the staging convey a sense of wonder. There’s less melancholy than I remember from Matthew Warcus’ production in the same venue a decade ago. The focus is more on intellectual excitement, with discussions about physics and philosophy that are fascinating, if occasionally hard work. It’s hard to follow what Thomasina’s breakthrough actually is, the trials of the modern academics too. And if you wonder at least some of the time what it is they are all talking about, don’t worry – you’re not alone.
Until 12 September 2026
Photo by Manuel Harlan
“Archduke” at the Royal Court Theatre
We all know that the assassination of Franz Ferdinand was some kind of catalyst for World War I. But playwright Rajiv Joseph isn’t interested in any standard history, nor the man who gives his play a title. His novel take, like his characters, is “a bit messed up”. But Archduke is memorable for its surreal moments and mad figures.
Es Devlin’s excellent design takes us underground. The action starts in a tunnel, with strangers played by Stanley Morgan, Abraham Popoola and Chris Walley meeting with little idea they are part of a murderous plot. The trio seem a little… simple. Their stupidity is funny, if a tad cruel, and the cast brings some excellent physical comedy. None of the men has long to live – they all have tuberculosis – and their desperation suggest a biopolitical motive for events.
The humour continues as a mad mastermind lectures the men – recruited as his “boys” – about regicide (he has form) and nationalism. Max Wootton has a brilliant time in the role, taking us to a 19th-century manosphere, his influencing suitably over the top. Meanwhile an ailurophobic maid asks moral questions and makes a cake. In the role, Janice Connolly provides tension as well as getting laughs.
Archduke works a lot better than you might think. Lyndsey Turner’s direction is swift, Joseph’s writing sharp and, best of all, there are plenty of surprises. It is an achievement to cover such common ground yet command an audience to question what comes next.
The incompetence of the plotters deflates their sinister objective, despite the serious consequences. There are plenty of random events, as well as misinformed and ill-judged decisions. As a final twist, the action becomes, oddly, believable. Joseph complicates the idea of conspiracy by making chance, coercion and human frailty as important as ideology. In doing so, he may end up taking us closer to the truth.
Until 25 July 2026
Photo by Helen Murray
“The Truth” at the Apollo Theatre
There’s no doubt that Florian Zeller’s hit show is a strong play. Londoners have long enjoyed the Frenchman’s work, including this comedy of manners about adultery, and this revival of Lindsay Posner’s production goes all out to entertain.
The focus is Michel, who is having an affair with his best friend’s wife, Alice. The twists surrounding what their respective spouses know and the games both couples play lead to a lot of fun with some great lines – all impressively far from your average farce.
Being French, Zeller brings a philosophical flair to his writing. The quartet debates the value of the truth, weaponising the concept with varying degrees of success. Such concerns are tamed by Posner, possibly with an eye on his cast. How much the play suffers from this is up for discussion.
The material allows some bluntness, especially with the role of Michel, played by Stephen Mangan, who emphasises this. Michel is the arch hypocrite and a bit of a fool – in short, very much in Mangan’s theatrical wheelhouse. It works because he is good at this and because he is so well supported. Sarah Hadland allows his mistress a suitably forceful edge and is on fine comic form. Ardal O’Hanlon, as the cuckold and betrayed best friend, gives an impressively understated performance that gets big laughs. An underused Janie Dee oozes sophistication as Michel’s wife.
All the characters have secrets, and the skilled performances make the most of these. But defining them all in relation to Michel points towards a question. Has The Truth been turned into more of a star vehicle than might be wise? Mangan may strike you as too bumbling, too British, but he gets the laughs, the audience loves him and he deserves his time in the spotlight. Even if there’s the suspicion that the comedy could have more bite, it’s no lie to say that this is an enjoyable affair.
Until 12 September 2026
Photo by Johan Persson
“Hot Mess” at The Other Palace Theatre
What a grand idea! This new musical from Jack Godfrey and Ellie Coote turns the relationship between the planet and people into a rom-com. The love affair between Earth and Hugh(manity) is a delightfully crazy conceit, deployed with a sense of fun as well as purpose. It’s so successful that the show should go global.
Danielle Steers takes the lead as a lonely planet Earth. Amour with amoebas doesn’t offer much reward. And as for a dalliance with dinosaurs, well, we know how that ends. From the start, Godfrey’s smart lyrics and pop tunes are well matched and Steers’ singing is strong. There’s a lot of scope for original rhymes and you sense a great deal of fun was had in the show’s making.
Soon Morgan Gregory arrives as Humanity, bubbling with energy and ideas. Coote’s book plays with making the courtship cute. Gregory has a harder role – how humanity is changing is the debate (as well as questions around sincerity) – and there are moments in Coote’s book that come close to a checklist. But a twist about travel is good and it isn’t the fault of Hot Mess that we know where the story is going.
Coote’s energetic direction makes up for the problem of predictability. Mankind probably gets too much credit – maybe that’s part of trying to keep the show positive for as long as possible. But preaching is avoided and a downbeat ending handled with humour so we don’t all leave the theatre depressed. With some fantasy, Earth does well in the end – as she should – and Steers is triumphant.
Until 6 September 2026
Photo by Pamela Raith
“Pride” at the National Theatre
Director Matthew Warchus’ project to turn his 2014 film into a musical makes sense. The true story of the Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners group, which raised funds during the 1984 miners’ strike, has protests and parades, strong characters and political changes. Even better, bringing Pride to the stage adds something special: the music and lyrics by Christopher Nightingale and Stephen Beresford highlight passion and the potential for change in a way only musicals can. After all, shows about revolutions can work remarkably well.
There’s no doubt Warchus gets it. His handling of the action is superb: clear, energetic and capable of delivering both laughter and tears. His staging balances the nostalgia that threatens to overwhelm Beresford’s book, reminding us that these were not easy times for either the LGBT community or the miners on strike. There is less success with the sentimentality that can also be laid at Beresford’s door. Some moments are simply too sickly sweet and pass by too quickly to earn their emotional weight. Overall, Pride is far from perfect, but its characters power it through to deliver impressive results.
The show is slow to get started. The exposition that introduces the period, while necessary, is sure to depress anyone of a certain age and plods along terribly. The piece also drags towards the end, becoming hagiographic in its treatment of its lead, the inspiring activist Mark Ashton. Despite the nuance Beresford tries to introduce, Jhon Lumsden struggles to convey the character’s charisma. There is also a moment when Pride focuses on personal identity to the exclusion of broader politics. It’s nice that the character of Bromley, whose coming-out story provides an effective subplot, gets a strong song, and Lewis Cornay is excellent in the role, but this shift in focus feels uncomfortable and anachronistic.
Other characters fare better. Matthew Durkan has a fine time as the group’s administrator, Mike, giving a strong and effective performance. Courtney Stapleton stands out as Steph, getting a lot of laughs out of her lines. Ensuring plenty of attention is given to the mining community is a smart move and leads to excellent performances from Matthew Woodyatt and, particularly, Sarah Pugh as Siân James. Her vocals are superb and her solo number is one of the show’s strongest moments. Samuel Barnett also has a great time as Jonathan, a role that showcases his considerable talents. Jonathan’s flamboyance has a clear political purpose – he gets the first truly memorable musical number (although the wait for it is too long), and Barnett’s performance is fantastic.
The lyrics have a humour that could be encouraged; the jokes are the best moments. There’s a pleasing variety to the score, helped by the subject matter, and while ‘Bread and Roses’ is always going to steal the show, the arrangement demonstrates real skill. It’s a shame that the biggest numbers rely so heavily on their performers, as the songs themselves are not quite memorable enough. Lizzie Gee’s choreography disappoints, while Bunny Christie’s set may be too simple. Many audiences will want more from a musical, and it’s easy to spot where a few banners could have been added. At least we get flags.
Warchus brings an energy to the show that is contagious. Pleasing the crowd is an aim, but so is doing justice to the source material. Reaching a wide audience without compromise is tough and occasionally results in clunky storytelling and a few cheap jokes. But the real-life material remains compelling and, although the score never quite makes the show as inspiring as it aspires to be, there is enough humour and passion here for all involved to have a lot to be proud of.
Until 12 September 2026
Photo by Manuel Harlan
“Glengarry Glen Ross” at the Old Vic Theatre
This revival of David Mamet’s play will probably be remembered for its all-female casting. It’s a first – prominently advertised – and the twist is oddly appropriate to writing so obsessively focused on masculinity. The story of real estate salesmen, ruthless and desperate in equal measure, is made stranger, uncanny even, by director Patrick Marber and his performers. Yet, unlike the very best revivals, this production adds surprisingly little to an appreciation of the piece.
To be clear, the cast is excellent. There’s Dorothea Myer-Bennett as office manager John, revelling in the bureaucratic power over the leads that help sales. Frustrated Dave and insecure George, played by Niky Wardley and Nancy Crane, are both in danger of losing their jobs because they cannot close sales. And Shelly ‘The Machine’ Levine, one of Mamet’s most powerful creations, inspires one of Indira Varma’s finest performances. Shelley is paired with former protégé Roma, played by Rosa Salazar, whose strong portrayal helps establish a bond with Levine that is one of the few humane relationships in the show.
The cast revel in roles they surely never imagined they would get the chance to play. They embrace the absence of anything appealing about the characters – that is Mamet’s point. Marber doesn’t shy away from the ugliness of the business, and Salazar is particularly strong at showing it (the deal with a gullible client, played by Mercedes Bahleda with great reserve, is particularly uncomfortable). Yes, you can recognise the salespeople; Varma even allows you to feel sorry for Levine, and Crane creates sympathy, too. But with so much greed on display, no matter how accurate Mamet’s analysis, Glengarry Glen Ross is not an easy watch.
Being uncomfortable is part of the intention, of course. These salesfolk aren’t super successful and you can pity them. They are exploited, too, by the offstage owners Mitch and Murray, who Mamet makes so vivid. If the argument is laboured, it doesn’t feel dated. The play’s observations on capitalism and morality, made by many, are as valid as ever. But for all the skill, the production has a problem. The casting won’t convert anyone to the play. Of course, it doesn’t have to, as the show stands strong. But this is an unpleasant piece you’ll either love or hate – nothing has changed on that front.
Until 18 July 2026
Photo by Manuel Harlan
“Hot Pot” at the Playhouse East Theatre
With a group of university friends reunited for a meal, Hongwei Bao’s play invites a culinary appraisal. There is a strong appetiser: we are introduced to China’s Rabbit God (the inspiration for TK Hay’s stylish design), the patron deity of those whose love is not recognised by the world. And Bao continues to be generous, serving up thoughtful reflections on how culture and politics have shaped the lives of his characters. If there is a fault – and it is more a matter of taste – it is that a little too much is on offer: lots of small portions rather than one satisfying main course.
As Tao, visiting home from the UK, greets his old friends, it is clear there is much to catch up on, and Windson Liong gives a strong performance as this endearing character. The members of the group are established quickly: Mei and Ming, now successful professionals, and Lin, who appears to be struggling. The performances from Shin-Fei Chen, Struan Davidson and Michelle Yim are all accomplished, and director Namoo Chae Lee ensures that the relationships between them are easy to follow. Their group dynamic is enjoyable to watch; the reminiscing and rivalry feel recognisable, even if the circumstances are specific.
The problem is that the characters are so clearly vehicles for an argument. Having graduated as journalists, they now debate censorship, with the fate of their former professor looming large. Flashbacks depicting Tao’s love affair with Ming add flavour and tension, and Liong and Davidson are particularly strong in these scenes. Yet even these tender moments are ultimately drawn into the play’s wider debate: Tao chooses freedom, while his former lover decides to “survive inside” the system. It’s clear whose side we are on – but that doesn’t make for much drama.
It’s not that any of this isn’t interesting. To learn about East Asian queer experiences is valid and important. But the script wants to serve too much. You might say there’s a danger of indigestion. Contemporary events feel shoehorned into the narrative, despite their undeniable importance. Likewise, the compromises made by Mei and Ming in pursuit of their careers, contrasted with the more rebellious paths taken by Tao and Lin, fit the play’s thematic framework a little too neatly.
The piece is sustained by the heart that so clearly lies behind it: a labour of love from the new production company Auka. At times, that enthusiasm works against the play, particularly in the more explanatory passages, which seem aimed at educating a British audience. Yet so much care has gone into both the preparation and presentation that Hot Pot is satisfying fare.
Until 21 June 2026 and then on tour until the 5 July 202
Photo by Brett Kasza
‘The Last Man’ at the Southwark Playhouse
You don’t often get the chance to experience musical theatre from South Korea. For novelty, Jishik Kim’s book and lyrics and Seungyeon Kwon’s music rank highly. The originality is rewarding and, although there are flaws, The Last Man is interesting.
The subject matter – the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse – is bold for a musical. Treating it in even a relatively fresh way is impressive, although the book is a little flabby when it comes to the mechanics of survival. Horror clichés are used cleverly (the lighting design by Cheolmin Cho helps) and director Daljung Kim keeps things tense. The story becomes convincingly dark and a final twist is effective, if not entirely unexpected.
The Last Man is a one-person show (well, there’s a teddy bear, too), which is another brave move. Two performers, Nabi Brown and Lex Lee, alternate, and I had the pleasure of seeing the latter. The character of ‘The Survivor’ is well written – making them a movie buff is a great idea and their development is satisfying, particularly in the portrayal of their health, which is powerful and opens up a lot of questions. Nonetheless, while Lee’s vocal range is strong and his acting excellent, one voice does verge on the monotonous. The effort to compensate (that teddy bear again) is sweet but ineffective.
Unfortunately, the show is not helped by the music. There’s nothing offensive – there’s a strong stab at a memorable number – and the lyrics aren’t the worst I’ve heard, but the songs never quite make sense (the character’s mental state might explain this), and there aren’t enough of them. I was in danger of forgetting this was a musical.
It’s the moments explaining Korean words that truly excite. Using musical theatre to convey big concepts such as Cheong or Ingan (I loved the touch of etymology) is stirring, but it’s a big shame that there aren’t enough of them. There’s a lot of talent and good ideas behind The Last Man, but there’s a lack of focus on what might make the show stand out more.
Until 13 June 2026
Photo by Rich Lakos