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“The Crucible” at Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre

While Shakespeare’s Globe is no stranger to new writing, modern classics like Arthur Miller’s masterpiece are an exciting event on its stage. There is a logic: the Salem setting, obsessed with the supernatural, has affinities to the Jacobean period and Miller surely had Shakespeare in mind during his hero John Proctor’s speeches. This fine production shows the play makes sense in the venue and is a serviceable revival of a great play.

Ola Ince directs the large cast with clarity – dealing with the girls who claim possession by the devil, their victims, and the judiciary who set up witch trials. While accusations mount and tragedy ensues Ince brings the whole of Salem to the stage. The production is energetic and the dramatic stakes high, culminating in a potent emotional conclusion.

There are some interesting interpretations of the play’s famous characters. Our main villain, Abigail, is presented as ruthless but also more than a little mad by Hannah Saxby. The power her claims give her is intoxicating and scenes of confrontation with Proctor fantastic. Saxby makes it easy to see Abigail’s power over the other girls and with this there is good support from Bethany Wooding and Molly Madigan. The Reverend Parris (Steve Furst) is neurotic from the start while Jo Stone-Fewings’ Reverend Hale a touch too pompous. It becomes easy to dismiss them both (although Stone-Fewings denouncing the court is a grand moment). Judge Danforth becomes a big role in the hands of Gareth Snook – a true fanatic in scenes that, despite managing to be frightening, come too close to funny.  It could be argued these male roles are too broad, but each illustrate thorough work and deep thinking on the part of Ince and her cast.

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Gareth Snook

Additional stages in the pit are at times fussy but provide audience engagement. Watch out if you are standing – there are tumbrels to avoid. The use of a musicians gallery and even the attic space high above the stage are inspired, giving us yet more insight into paranoia and suffering. Ince might have born in mind the danger of how silly a modern crowd find these “fearful proofs” of witchcraft. It’s hard not to have people laugh when characters take flying girls seriously or are shocked at dancing but the play needs this to be avoided at all costs.

Thankfully, the story of John and Elizabeth Proctor is very serious. Gavin Drea and Phoebe Pryce, who take the roles, are highlights and go a long way to secure the production’s success. Pryce has Elizabeth’s integrity down pat, without smugness or resignation. We don’t see enough of Elizabeth (Miller’s flaw), but Pryce develops the role with skill. Her husband is both virile and conflicted with Drea managing to convey the struggle and intense anger. Importantly, while there’s little feeling sorry for this flawed man, he still becomes an inspiration. That Proctor “has his goodness” is palpable by the end of this powerful performance.

Until 12 July 2025

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“Little Brother” at Jermyn Street Theatre

It would be a touch perverse, and thankfully difficult, to be uncharitable towards this new play. Based on the memoir by Ibrahima Balde and Amets Arzallus Antia, it tells the story of the former’s journey from Guinea to Europe. In contrast to the tendency to abstract and politicise the topic of immigration, this is a simple story showing life’s unexpected turns at a personal level.

Balde never intended to be an immigrant. His motivation is to search for his little brother, his journey even more shocking and dangerous than you might expect. Balde and Antia provide poetry, but the achievement in Timberlake Wertenbaker’s adaptation is to maintain an air of unvarnished truthfulness. The account is more than a documentary but it has a stark authenticity that makes belief unquestionable. 

Director Stella Powell-Jones does a great job of bringing a story that covers so much time and space to the small stage of Jermyn Street Theatre. There are no fancy touches – they’d seem out of place – just a strong cast and subtle sounds from Falle Noike and Max Peppenheim. The performances are led by Blair Gyabaah, who barely leaves the stage for the 90-minute duration and is supported by Youness Bouzinab, Ivan Oyik, Mo Sesay and Whitney Kehinde, who take on the roles of everyone Balde meets. Kehinde works particularly hard as every woman and has many powerful scenes. For my taste, too much effort is taken to distinguish these different people (with costumes and characteristics) when it is what they do that seems to be the point here. Still, Powell-Jones generates considerable tension as we wonder how each will treat Balde, guessing or dreading whether their response will be good or bad.

Much of the journey is as grim as it gets. Balde is homeless, kidnapped, tortured and literally sold. The trauma from events is described articulately without being dwelt upon. And there is also a lightness to the show that is remarkable. The script, and Gyabaah, expertly tread a fine line, showing an acceptance of events without a resignation about them. Throughout, it is emphasised that the people met are like you and me, drawing the audience in and quietly interrogating us. And a lot the encounters are good. The acts of kindness, big and small, begrudging or unquestioned, pepper the journey. Charity is the key… and the challenge presented.

Until 21 June 2025

www.jermystreettheatre.co.uk

Photos by Steve Gregson

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“1536” at the Almeida Theatre

Ava Pickett’s new play uses the popular fascination with the Tudors to good effect. The year of the title is, as you might remember from your history lessons, when Anne Boleyn was executed by Henry VIII. But instead of the Royal Court, Pickett looks at a small village in Essex, far removed from events, with three women who are friends and (approximately) working class.

The focus gives the piece just enough originality. And it allows it to be speculative. We know little about lives such as these, so some modern sensibilities can be injected without too much trouble. Which is not to say the play isn’t well researched – it’s convincing how information gets through to the women, as is their awareness of how their society, and their status, is shifting.

Pickett’s dialogue is good. Avoiding ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ makes the characters sound fresh and easily relatable. And there’s plenty of humour: pointing out the “loads of paperwork” in Henry’s divorce is great (although there is a reliance on expletives to get laughs). Director Lyndsey Turner’s staging adds energy, too, with quick, cinematic scenes and bold colours from Jack Knowles’ lighting design.

As you might guess, the year in question is used to examine the patriarchy. It’s interesting to note striking similarities with another strong play, Julia Grogan’s Playfight, which also has a trio of very different young women and details a struggle that seems to have changed less than you would hope. But as there isn’t much to argue with, no matter how well it’s all presented, there aren’t many surprises here.

One interesting twist is that Pickett provides a close study of how attitudes change. Jane’s flirtatious cheekiness falls out of “fashion” as the play progresses. As men lose their sense of humour, the women suffer – and they warn each other to change their behaviour to keep with the times. It’s a thought-provoking observation that builds dramatic tension effectively, if not subtly.

There are also touches of the soap opera here: affairs, pregnancy and violence are all added at speed. The action comes close to getting out of hand, but strong performances and well-written characters save the night. Sienna Kelly takes the lead as Jane, barely off the stage and excellent in every scene. Liv Hill and Tanya Reynolds offer superb support, the detail in their depictions aiding the writing. All added together, 1536 proves a year to remember.

Until 7 June 2025

www.almeida.co.uk

Photo by Helen Murray

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“Romeo and Juliet” at Shakespeare’s Globe

Director Sean Holmes gives his version of Shakespeare’s tragedy a Wild West setting. And why not? The play has been put into so many different times and locations it’s hard to keep track. Most importantly, though, this is a sold production that leans into the venue’s strengths and unique atmosphere so that it is sure to please.

What does this nineteenth-century American location add? Well, let’s say it doesn’t take anything away. And it might convince more if the accents employed were consistent. But a culture of violence and rough justice map onto the plot well. It’s the close study of the script that’s the important thing.

The concept is embraced by the leads – Rawaed Asde and Lola Shalam – who are both strong. There is an appropriate emphasises on their youth. Asde is a puppyish figure full of energy and Juliet feisty but also confused. Both are a little, well, silly; it’s a fair interpretation, some of what these loved up teens say, even if great poetry, is hyperbolic. The performances are enjoyable throughout and it’s a nice touch that, in this production, the couple get the last lines.

The rest of the cast is, unfortunately, just a little uneven. Older characters are too easily lost, especially the Prince (cast as some kind of Sheriff). Some voices are lacking range and a couple of performers sound hoarse. This is a tough performance space physically; poor Benvolio (Roman Asde) seems to have a plane overhead every time he opens his mouth. Thankfully, Jamie-Rose Monk’s nurse is super and Michael Elcock’s crowd-pleasing Mercutio one of the best I’ve seen. Importantly, the whole cast work well with the audience – a key to success at the Globe.

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Michael Elcock

Another highlight comes from Grant Olding’s work as composer. The mix of Americana adds to the atmosphere but never feels forced. Treating Shakespeare as your lyricist is surely intimidating but Olding makes light work of it. There’s a lot of singing and dancing all adding to a jolly feel. At least until just before the interval. The question arises – how does the humour fit with the tragedy?

It’s clear the tone of the piece needs to develop. And if there are still too many laughs for my liking, Holmes has the intriguing idea of introducing dreamlike elements. Aided again by Olding’s soundscape, a messenger to Romeo and the apothecary appear like somnambulists. In the tomb Juliet is joined by Mercutio, Tybalt and Paris (a good stage debut for Joe Reynolds) who move around in a trance and even line dance. It’s pretty creepy.

It’s a shame Friar Lawrence isn’t developed to play a part in these supernatural suggestions. But like the many dreams recounted, all the fear, blood and guts, and elaborate death throws make the violence nightmarish. The conceit might have problems, but it makes the play fresh and surprising. Introducing the unexpected into Romeo and Juliet is a big achievement.

Until 2 August 2025

www.shakespearesglobe.com

Photos by Tristram Kenton

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“Here We Are” at the National Theatre

It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when Stephen Sondheim’s work wasn’t revered. Not all his shows were hits the first time around and many divided opinion and generated parody. This last effort from the legend, who died in 2021, presented on the South Bank via New York’s The Shed, is such a mixed affair that it’s unlikely anyone will claim it as a Sondheim highlight. 

Sondheim used more sources to make musicals than most and this time, with David Ives’ book, he looks at Surrealist cineaste Luis Buñuel. We get not one but two films brought to the stage. It must be stressed that, unlike many a movie adaptation, Sondheim and Ives put their own stamp on the works. These are interpretations, updated and with the stage in mind. For once, the word ‘inspiration’ is apt.

Yet, while there are more than enough crazy moments, there isn’t the political power that’s found in Buñuel. Maybe this is down to the times? Our view of class has changed so much. Or is it Surrealism itself that’s the problem? You might suggest Surrealists tend to take self-referentiality seriously (there’s a topic for discussion). But musicals are whacky from the get-go.

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Tracie Bennett

It helps an awful lot to know what’s being referenced before going in. Of course, Sondheim fans are a clever bunch and their knowledge of European cinema extensive. But just in case you need reminding, the first act is based on 1972’s Le charme discret de la bourgeoisie, with a wealthy group trying to find a place to eat. Here the idea is a solid satire that’s laugh-out-loud funny, with great skits from various waiters (including Tracie Bennett, who is excellent). But updating the characters isn’t a happy affair. Instead of France, we are in LA. And, more than the bourgeoise, we have Ultra High Net Worth individuals who don’t quite convince, despite Rory Kinnear’s commendable efforts. A younger character, admirably performed by Chumisa Dornford-May, is written as some kind of revolutionary but is notably more soixante-huit than contemporary.

The second act disappoints further, not least because there is so little music in it. It’s a version of El ángel exterminador (the one with the characters mysteriously trapped in a room). Why they can’t leave and then eventually do is never explained but you’re going to have to live with that. The wit and intelligence are still clear (a dialogue about ontology and shoes is funny), but the references become oppressive. 

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Jesse Tyler Ferguson and Martha Plimpton

The potential legacy of the piece also weighs heavy. Yes, this material would be difficult for any cast. But director Joe Mantello fails to keep up a pace or embrace crazier moments so that (ape costumes aside) there are few surprises. While Richard Fleeshman and Paulo Szot manage to shine in simpler roles (as an unnamed soldier and a diplomat), the other characters are surely supposed to be more three-dimensional? Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Jane Krakowski and Martha Plimpton (all big talents) seem trapped in how we imagine performers in a Sondheim show should act. Metatheatricality or just a mistake? It proves tiresome and shortchanges the show. 

Until 28 June 2025

www.nationaltheatre.org.uk

Photos by MARC BRENNER

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“My Master Builder” at Wyndham’s Theatre

That playwright Lila Raicek new work is “inspired” by Ibsen’s The Master Builderof 1892 is a bit of red herring. OK, there’s an architect involved and adultery (and even vertigo). But the play tries hard to be a think piece for now – putting women to the fore, adding glamour, celebrity and addressing the #MeToo movement. It isn’t boring, but it is spread out thinly. And it doesn’t convince.

As the anniversary of their son’s death approaches, the marriage between Henry and Elena Solness is about to end. The arrival of Henry’s former pupil and fling, Mathilde, is engineered by his wife to make the divorce as messy as possible. It’s dramatic enough, with plenty of speeches about how everyone feels. But notably less attention is paid to grief than the teacher/student affair.

So, from the start, it’s harder to care about the people than it could be. And, unlike Ibsen’s character, there’s nothing provincial about this crowd. Henry, Elena and Mathilde are all super successful. Their wealth is so generic I lost track of where the play was supposed to be set (it’s the Hamptons). As a starchitect, a publishing mogul and an accomplished writer, the trio are the kind of elite that might get on your nerves. 

It’s fun to laugh at their privilege… a bit. But neither their status nor first-world problems are depicted that well. The few luxury symbols or nods to theories dropped in are too easy. And the dialogue is horribly clunky. Which might be deliberate – no one here is quite as clever as they think they are.

There’s clearly extra tension from how inappropriate Henry’s relationship with his student was. But is this really a debate? I guess the twist is how Elena wants to use the event and how Mathilde doesn’t want to cause trouble. It could be interesting – but note how the responses from both women are still really about the man. 

Meanwhile, Mathilde and her college chum Kaia (who happens to be Elena’s PA and also attracted to an older man) turn out to be very whingey Millennials. It’s a damaging stereotype and it doesn’t help the play. Raicek sacrifices Kaia as a foil (although Mirren Mack makes a lot of the role) while Elizabeth Debicki works very hard at a mysterious air for Mathilde to provide some depth to the part. In the end, though, they end up just as “insufferable” as the older characters.

Director Michael Grandage’s staging isn’t as successful as usual. And while Richard Kent’s design looks great, it makes the action feel lost in one scene and then cramped in another. At least the central dynamic between husband and wife, played by Ewan McGregor and Kate Fleetwood, entertains. Both performances are skilled enough to intrigue. It’s left open as to how much genuine affection, let alone passion, exists between them. Is Henry just the old lech we imagine? Is Elena really the villain – Fleetwood does those roles so well – or is there more to her than her bitterness? There isn’t much else to enjoy here, but at least it’s nice to see big names living up to their reputation. In this instance, the show needs the stars.

Until 12 July 2025

www.mymasterbuilderplay.com

Photo by Johan Persson 

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“Dealer’s Choice” at the Donmar Warehouse

As the 30th anniversary production of Patrick Marber’s hit show, this revival might prompt questions as to how the play has aged. The short answer is well enough. The script is funny, the drama intense and the characters interesting. It could be mentioned that Marber was looking at men and their relationships before people started talking about toxicity. But if a sharp critique is what you’re looking for you might be disappointed. While this is, undoubtedly, a well-written play and a fine production, it lacks bite.

The poker game a group of restaurant workers hold each Sunday after work is high stakes in several ways. For Mugsy and Frankie, the event connects to their future dreams. The chef, Sweeney, has more modest ambitions – seeing his daughter the next day. Their boss, restaurant owner Stephen, plays to keep an eye on his son, Carl, who has a gambling addiction. The structure is neat, including the introduction of a wild card – a professional gambler called Ash who Carl owes money to.

The men’s banter is dated but amusing. The shifts in their relationships, before and after work, provide dynamism. Individual ambitions power the play and are depicted well by the cast – these are good roles. Hammed Anumashaun stands out by managing to make Mugsy more than a comic device (no small achievement). Meanwhile Theo Barklem-Biggs gives a nicely layered performance as Sweeney. The father-son relationship is depicted by Daniel Lapaine and Kasper Hilton-Hille with skill, the latter continuing to establish himself as a young talent to watch. Carl could easily be dismissed as spoilt and selfish but, alongside Lapaine, the complexity to both characters is filled out. As a final treat, Brendan Coyle’s performance as the world-weary Ash is strong.

Matthew Dunster’s direction is considered. While the action is never rushed, not a moment is wasted. I’m not sure the musical interludes need to be quite so loud, but that might just be my age – nobody needs to be shocked awake here. Moi Tran’s design is a fancy affair, the reveal of the basement the game is played in is sure to impress and the revolving stage is a great idea. So, with so much to praise, why the reservation?

Dealer’s Choice offers a convincing enough snapshot of these men’s lives but it doesn’t take us any further. Marber is generous with his characters – not a bad strategy – and the production follows this. It’s easy to care about the men despite, maybe because of, their flaws. But we can’t escape that they are stuck. None of them is going to win, let alone win big and that grim conclusion seems, oddly, never addressed.

Until 7 June 2025

www.donmarwarehouse.com

Photos by Helen Murray

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“The Great Gatsby” at the London Coliseum

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel, which celebrates its centenary this year, has been turned into a big Broadway musical by Jason Howland and Nathan Tysen, with the help of onstage cars and plenty of fireworks. Still running in New York, the Coliseum is a suitably splendid London home for a production that proves value for money, even if it lacks surprises.

This show is a tough one not to damn with faint praise: it’s competent, easy, and enjoyable. Kait Kerrigan’s book is a case in point; as an adaptation it is efficient, clear and comprehensive… but also simplistic. Kerrigan doesn’t assume we all know what is going on with the nouveau riche Jay Gatsby and his former, now married, sweetheart Daisy. The affair, alongside Daisy’s husband’s adultery and a romance for her cousin Nick and friend Jordan, makes for a plot that’s interesting enough, but a little like a soap opera.

The show isn’t sure how funny it wants to be; can we laugh at these old-fashioned views, or do we just condemn them? And Gatsby becomes a bit of a joke himself – rather than a mystery – which is a shame for the audience and Jamie Muscato who takes the lead role. The idea of showing Gatsby’s pretensions with a vaguely British twang jars (Muscato can do a better American accent than this). Frances Mayli McCann, who stars as Daisy, also suffers, with a big effort to make her character sympathetic. Their love isn’t questioned in the way Fitzgerald wanted. Both leads have the poorest songs; their fine voices – and they both sound great – cannot disguise this. 

Howland’s score is powerful, if predictable, with period references that are suggestive (including Gilda Grey is a lovely touch). The romantic numbers soar, just as you might expect. And the party theme is suitably catchy. Tysen’s lyrics are less accomplished, but they are clear, and I didn’t cringe. Both benefit from Marc Bruni’s direction and several numbers are elevated by Dominique Kelley’s choreography. An Act Two highlight, Made to Last, with all the main characters, is the only number complex enough to really impress.

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John Owen-Jones

It’s with supplementary characters that The Great Gatsby does best. Corbin Bleu manages to make sure narrator Nick leads the show despite Kerrigan’s lack of interest in the character. There’s a plumped-up role for Jordan (now Nick’s lover) that Amber Davies makes the most of. And we get more of Meyer Wolfsheim, with the shady businessman’s connection to Gatsby made explicit, leading to a rousing number for John Owen-Jones.

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Corbin Bleu, Rachel Tucker and Jon Robyns

Tom and his lover Myrtle are the big surprise, two strong roles for Jon Robyns (who makes a great villain) and Rachel Tucker, who is excellent as always. It’s a pity Myrtle’s long-suffering husband George isn’t elaborated more (not least for Joel Montague who does well in the role) but all together the show feels hefty enough, and the characters contribute to a general air of satisfaction.

Daisy gets a clumsy finale, almost the last word, lamenting the fate of women and coming close to claiming victim status. It’s not that she’s wrong, just that neither the character nor Fitzgerald would say it. While it isn’t a bad thing to break away from source material, that this is the boldest move only highlights that the show needs more inspired touches. There’s nothing embarrassing here and a lot is done well, it just fails to excite.

Until 7 September 2025

www.london.gatsby.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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“Midnight Cowboy” at the Southwark Playhouse 

Musicals adapted from movies are usually a safe bet. But of the many screen-to-stage shows, using John Schlesinger’s 1969 film is surely a surprise. None other than Bryony Lavery has taken on the task but, unfortunately, the level of effort needed shows. It would be nice to award marks for originality, for taking a risk, but it turns out the idea is a bad one.

It is stressed that this is an adaptation of the book, by James Leo Herlihy, as much as the film. In which case, dropping the snatches of music associated with the movie might have been better, because the show relies on the audience knowing the premise of young misfit Joe Buck coming to New York to work as a gigolo. True, there’s an element of fever dream in Midnight Cowboy, with poverty and drugs fuelling chaos. But the descent to hell is confused as well as relentless.

It’s probably best to leave aside the morals in the story. Are we really OK with having a violent sex worker and his pimp as any kind of hero? The latter is his only friend in New York, a desperate conman called Ratso with a troubled past. The story is bleak to the point of misery porn. The whole show has the puzzling move of inserting humour into the situation: yes, Joe is the world’s worst hustler, and Ratso is oddly endearing, but are laughs appropriate here?

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Max Bowden

The performances are best described as brave. Tori Allen-Martin does well as two very different women, Matthew White and Rohan Tickell have intense roles as two male clients that they make memorable. Max Bowden’s Ratso is admirably complex, he is the only fleshed out character. Paul Jacob French certainly looks the part of Joe, and has the moves, but this is a very tricky role; we can see Joe is clueless, oddly blank, and the depiction follows this. Joe’s job makes him a figure people project onto, so a connection to him is difficult. This problem is complicated by the flashbacks that are supposed to fill Joe out (many of which are hard to hear). Despite all this, Bowden and French make their chemistry clear – no small achievement.

As for the music, written by Francis “Eg” White, the songs are good (the main number is a fantastic, emotional ear worm) but there aren’t enough of them, and they don’t build to anything significant. The delivery is sometimes timid. Again, it’s easy to commend how brave a lot of this is – sex and murder during musical numbers is bold – but the courage doesn’t make it work.

If I had to guess what’s gone wrong, it might be the stress on dreams: Joe’s ambitions, Ratso’s hopes, and various sexual fantasies. But there might be tension here too. Oddly, with little sense of place or time, we miss addressing that big old theme of the American Dream. Thankfully, some of the staging is impressive, the scene changes are good, likewise the projections and lighting. Director Nick Winston’s skills as a choreographer are clear and could have been showcased more. But none of this is enough to save the show from its morbid streak. If I didn’t know better, I’d think we’ve finally found a movie that doesn’t work as a musical.

Until 17 May 2025

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

Photos by Pamela Raith

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“Playfight” at the Soho Theatre

It’s not unusual for a coming-of-age play to make some audience members feel old. Julia Grogan’s story of three friends, focusing on them at the ages of 15, then 18, shocks and surprises. Its characters might feel almost alien. At least, I felt ancient, and the play is all the better for that.

There is a lot here that is extreme. There’s a suicide at the start – of a young man who has sex with one of the 15-year-olds without knowing her age – and self-harm features prominently. Sexual violence is more than the backdrop to these young lives – it shapes them, and it is scary.

The frank discussions of sex, the prevalence of pornography and the girls’ different desires might also be termed extreme. These teens are “dreaming of bliss” and want nothing less. Searching for belief, with either Christianity or a vaguely pagan connection with the tree they all meet under, baffles a bit, too (and, with the latter, leads to a literally fantastic, dreamlike scene).

Grogan deals with her material so cleverly we cannot write it off as exaggeration. First, there is humour. Playflight is a raucously funny script, that will make you “crease” (as the kids say). A lot of the laughs come from the girls’ vivid imaginations – some of what they say, occasionally out of ignorance, is crazy. But even when their world-weary pretence slips and we see them as naïve children, what they are going through feels real. And they are tired sick of how they are treated.

Director Emma Callander treads the fine line within this serious comedy with a skill that matches the script. The performances from Nina Cassells, Sophie Cox and Lucy Mangan are superb (just consider how we see them grow up – a short final scene is when they are 24). They are fantastic roles. Presented as sex-obsessed, studious and saintly – an odd trio you might find difficult to see as friends – Grogan refuses to make them stereotypes. Keira, who seems not to care, is full of concern as well as sharp, challenging, arguments, Zeinab’s romantic desires for Lucy are more complex than a teenage crush, while Lucy is far more than the little girl lost she might seem (or pretend) to be.

Along with plenty of laughs, there is a foreboding tension that makes the piece distinctive. And its arguments about how women are treated are as powerful as they are forthright. Confounding, without being contrary, is a tough move to pull off. It’s this that makes the play so exciting (and makes you keen to see what comes next from Grogan). I bet Playfight proves memorable and I’m old enough to spot that.

Until 26 April 2025

www.sohotheatre.com

Photo by Paul Blakemore