All posts by Edward Lukes

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“Outlying Islands” at the Jermyn Street Theatre

David Greig’s 2002 play is a must-see. Firstly, because it is, very simply, wonderfully written. The story is simple, too, with a couple of ornithologists working in a remote location. But the play itself is richly complex – full of surprises I don’t want to spoil – with startling questions and big ideas.

This production boasts an expert crew. Director Jessica Lazar has worked on the play before, along with designers Anna Lewis, David Doyle, Christopher Preece and movement director Jennifer Fletcher, whose work all matches the elegance of the source material. Their experience shows, but Lazar’s approach remains fresh, bringing out humour and environmental concerns with extra force. This is a script that’s aging very well indeed.

A good deal of tension is fleshed out, primarily with the character of Robert and his fraught take on life. He’s a fantastic creation, brought to life by Bruce Langley. The dialogue is full of nerves and analysis, descriptions of the body that are, themselves, dissected. It’s a surprise how uncomfortable his scientific sense make us – Robert is blunt, “perpetually insulting” and a maverick. Langley gives him schoolboy charm, but is he dangerous, too?

Whitney-Kehinde-in-Outlying-Islands-by-Alex-Brenner
Whitney Kehinde

Robert is certainly captivating. Ellen, one of only two inhabitants on the island, falls for him. And she is Greig’s second brilliant portrait, one that Whitney Kehinde performs in all its complexity. The young woman’s vivid fantasy life connects to themes of technology – she’s an avid cinema-goer – but the steps she takes to realise her desires are startling. Living “in and out of dreams”, Kehinde powerfully combines the mystical and animalistic.

Robert’s friend and colleague John completes a triangle. A difficult role that newly graduated Fred Woodley Evans manages to make more than a foil. It’s John who remembers that a boat is coming to take them back to society. But talk of ‘decency’ becomes increasingly shrill as the play builds to its tense conclusion. How much the audience identifies with John is left open, just as it should be.

None of this considers the considerable humour in the play. A final brilliant performance comes from Kevin McMonagle as Ellen’s uncle, whose description of London as a gannetry s laugh-out-loud funny. Just as remarkable is how Outlying Islands is a ‘period’ play, set just before World War II, whose advent is explored, but with none of the usual clichés. Lazar’s triumph is to appreciate that a piece this good will never have a definitive version. Greig’s work is observed by her, interpretations are made, but it is clear that there will always be more to offer.

Until 15 March 2025

www.jermynstreettheatre.co.uk

Photos by Alex Brenner

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“The Years” at the Harold Pinter Theatre

This welcome transfer from the Almeida Theatre is a bold addition to the West End. Adapted by Eline Arbo from the work of Annie Ernaux in an English version by Stephanie Bain, it is an unapologetically highbrow piece that challenges its audience. And it’s, very, very, French. Ernaux is a public intellectual, the type you really only get across the channel. The inheritance of Proust, her work is steeped in politics and sociology. 

The Years is also moving and surprisingly entertaining. The strategy of employing five performers – Deborah Findlay, Romola Garai, Gina McKee, Anji Mohindra and Harmony Rose-Bremner – is a genius move. They all tell Ernaux’s story together, while there’s also a sense that they are telling the story of many women… albeit clever French women born just after World War II. The themes of memory and mortality, as the play takes us through a life, are extremely powerful.

Ernaux’s writing is taut and direct, and both the adaptation and Arbo’s direction do it justice. Discussions of desire are frank, there is a lot of frustration and masturbation. A scene of a backstreet abortion became notorious during its first run and is, indeed, remarkable (Garai’s performance in this scene is, literally, stunning). But every moment of the play is considered. As each cast member travels through time, there are detailed touches and moments everyone can recognise.

The Years isn’t perfect. Taking on so many roles falls flat once or twice, although Findlay and McKee are great as small boys. And the humour is repetitive. Sensual moments are fantastic, but too often the sex gets giggles (would the French find it funny?). The music (Thijs van Vuure) and movement used in the piece are hit and miss, leading to both the strongest and weakest moments. Arguably, the biggest flaw comes with notions of class, more of a concern for Ernaux than you’d think from this show. Our heroine’s background is murky; we go big on the historic repression of women but not so much on how it relates to social status.

Balancing a “collective consciousness” with a particular experience is tricky. There are a lot of dates here. A potted history is all too common on stage and, even if delivered well, is seldom effective. Likewise, the device of family photographs, which structures the show, while leading to a fabulous finale as the performers’ faces are filmed live (and illustrates the strength of Juul Dekker’s set design) is a touch overplayed. Ernaux’s intellectual curiosity is ferocious, her focus intense and the roots of both are complex. Maybe the highest praise for the production is that it preserves so much of her brilliance. 

Until 19 April 2025

www.theyearsplay.com

Photos by Helen Murray

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“Second Best” at The Riverside Studios

This new play, written by Barney Norris and based on David Foenkinos’ novel, is about trauma and how we process it. As the sole character, whose name is Martin, is about to become a father, his own childhood troubles come to the fore. The starting point is interesting, our guy came close to becoming Harry Potter in the film franchise. But bigger problems arise when his father dies and a new life with his mother and stepfamily leads to a mental breakdown.

You might be relieved that the theme isn’t actually celebrity. But the idea of missing out on such a life-changing event is a topic that might have provided more focus. Norris and director Michael Longhurst do well to take us back and forth in time, showing how Harry Potter comes to haunt Martin. The action is clear, but the question as to how much failure is really the problem is too open. It’s a disappointment that disappointment itself isn’t explored more. 

Despite observing him for a long time, Martin is sketchy character who it is hard to warm to, a fact that makes the performance here even more impressive. The show marks the stage debut of Asa Butterfield (and is, probably, what it will be remembered for). A one-man show is a smart choice and Butterfield acquits himself well. It’s a shame the sound design (Richard Hammarton) is so ferocious. And that, despite his loquaciousness, Martin doesn’t have much of a take on what he has experienced.

Butterfield’s effort wins respect. But Longhurst and designer Fly Davis bring a sense of working too hard. There’s a lot of unnecessary pacing around, and tricks to the set that make no sense. The art installation vibe looks good. But what’s the point of it? Are we getting a glimpse instead Martin’s mind? There’s a wooden box he hides in, transformed in the final scene, a hospital bed he climbs up to and a potato taped to the wall. None of this is bad, as such, but the degree of Martin’s damage remains a bit of a mystery. And given the show’s sentimental streak, I don’t think that is the intention.

Another idea that doesn’t quite work is to inject lighter touches into such a serious subject. Again, Butterfield does well here, but the Potter-based jokes aren’t great. Meanwhile, Martin’s solipsism makes other characters mentioned – his partner and parents – just… flat. We really need another view on what went on. Second Best leaves us with pop psychology, a lot of misery, brief and banal reflections on fame and big dollops of soppiness. Thankfully, there is a first-class performance to enjoy.

Until 1 March 2025

www.secondbestplay.com

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“The Gift” at the Park Theatre

Dave Florez’s new play has a neat scenario – about someone receiving an unpleasant package in the post – that is studiously crafted into a satisfying comedy, expertly directed by Adam Meggido and benefiting from a trio of strong performances.

It might be a missed opportunity that we discover, almost immediately, what’s in the cake box delivered to Colin. Overall, there isn’t quite enough tension in the play. That said, despite being suitably icky and leading to too many puns, what’s in the box isn’t really the point.

Florez’s close observation of the existential crisis the ‘gift’ provokes is spot on. Colin and his mid-life crisis are easily recognisable. Nicholas Burns, who takes the role, injects a lot of energy and makes the most of the jokes. Likewise, Colin’s sister and brother-in-law are tidy portraits that Laura Haddock and Alex Price get a lot from. Set in North London, the play even fits its Finsbury Park venue. If the social satire is light, it is well done. 

There’s fun as Colin goes over his life and remembers those he has hurt. He has a nice line in feeling like a victim (a rant about pass-agg emails is great). And a lot of soul searching, with the irony of never managing to address self-obsession, is good. It might be a shame we don’t feel for this manbaby a bit more? Colin has a big breakdown. But it’s entertaining to laugh at him.

Florez tries hard to add twists, and the cast does well to keep up the energy. But The Gift doesn’t build and struggles to find a punchline good enough to end on. Burns carries on landing lines, Haddock’s deadpan delivery gets better and better and Price even manages to make us like his character. It is, though, a story about “a man with a shit in a box and a chip on his shoulder”. And that has its limits.

Until 1 March 2025

www.parktheatre.co.uk

Photo by Rich Southgate

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“Oliver!” at the Gielgud Theatre

The heros of another hit new musical, Why Am I So Single?, are young friends who share a love of Lionel Bart’s 1960 show. It might strike you as odd that such Gen Z figures admire the old musical. It shouldn’t. As Cameron Mackintosh’s latest revival, via Chichester, illustrates, the piece is solid as ever and a foolproof crowd-pleaser.

Bart’s is a smart adaptation of the Charles Dicken’s classic (of course, it helps that we all know the story), cleverly stripping out the moments suitable for songs. And what songs! There’s not a tune most of the audience doesn’t recognise, and is each catchy, with a smart, distinctive spin on Victorian music-hall traditions indicative of in-depth knowledge. 

Although the cast is superb (there are four Olivers and I’m confident each is excellent) and the ‘ahh’ factor from watching young performers is present, the roles for children are carefully controlled. The focus is on the grownups who, as well as working expertly with their charges, get the chance to shine.

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Katy Secombe and Oscar Conlon-Morrey

There are super comic turns from Oscar Conlon-Morrey and Katy Secombe as Mr Bumble and the widow Corney, as well as the Sowerberry funeral directors, played by Stephen Matthews and Jamie Birkett. Aaron Sidwell’s Bill Sikes is suitably villainous, but there weren’t too many boos for him at the end – a little tortured angst in the performance makes him interestingly sympathetic. Shanay Holmes’ Nancy belts out her numbers to rapturous applause. And the star of the show is, of course, Fagin, performed here by the estimable Simon Lipkin with a surprising physicality. It’s great to get some energy into the role, although you might miss the threat Fagin should feel around Sikes (Lipkin looks as he might start a fight). Lipkin does especially well next to his young co-stars – there’s an appropriate sense he is the leader of this pack that is a pleasure to watch.

The production has a further strength. The direction and choreography are from Matthew Bourne. While Oliver! doesn’t lend itself to big dance numbers, Bourne’s eye for movement adds immeasurably. Marshalling the large cast around Lez Brotherston’s dynamic set is made exciting, and a touching sense of vulnerability is created with gestures matching the sentimentality of the piece to perfection. Both Bourne and Bart are bold in their treatment of Dickens – and the result is an old favourite you’ll be happy to have more of.

Booking until 29 March 2026

www.oliverthemusical.com

Photos by Johan Persson

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“A Good House” at the Royal Court Theatre

Behind the important subject matter of Amy Jephta’s play is a strong comedy with excellent characters. When a shack appears at the edges of an upmarket housing estate the neighbours’ anxiety reflects wide concerns – especially relating to Jephta’s home of South Africa.

The twist is that while two of the couples who make up the community are white, the husband and wife they approach to help with an eviction order against their new neighbours are black. It is a simple scenario, and it is easy to imagine moments that would have more charge for an audience outside the UK. But the strength of the writing and plenty of detail aid credibility. If the piece comes too close to being just a vehicle for debate, it is a very good mode of transport.

There are three brilliantly written couples, each complex and wonderfully embodied by an excellent cast that includes Kai Luke Brummer, Olivia Darnley, Robyn Rainsford and Scott Sparrow. The observations about them are spot on and Nancy Medina’s careful direction makes the most of Jephta’s work. The arguments the couples have amongst themselves are, particularly, an insightful delight.

The stars, who the play spends most time with, are undoubtedly Mimî M Khayisa and Sifiso Mazibuko, who take the roles of Sihle and Bonolo. Both are wonderful creations. Despite being very different (their backgrounds are explored in depth), it is easy, compelling in fact, to respect them, and both performers bring them to life not only with integrity but with an eye to the excellent humour in the script.

Jephta has a brilliant way with class and race – both are satirised with cringe-worthy moments and full-on offensive remarks. A great effort is made towards balance, cleverly flipping between prejudices surrounding both. Is racism or capitalism the dominant evil? There are plenty of opposing arguments on offer. It does make sense that people care for their community, and it is obvious that they value their homes, but nobody has seen those living in the shack… we know nothing about them.

Money is the key, as the buck literally stops with house prices. There’s a fantastic moment for Darnley, whose character is an estate agent and whose exasperation is wonderfully well hidden. Jephta engenders debate, and her play is all the better for that. With a clear take on human nature and how identities are constructed – by ourselves and others – what’s built here is a sturdily constructed play that is worth a great deal.

Until 8 February 2025

www.royalcourttheatre.com

Photos by Camilla Greenwell

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“The Devil May Care” at the Southwark Playhouse

Mark Giesser’s adaptation of George Bernard Shaw’s 1897 play, The Devil’s Disciple, is interesting, if flawed. The action is moved from Revolutionary America to the Philippine-American War which started at the turn of the 20th century. It’s a period of history I confess is new to me but parallels with the British Empire and American interventionism, which I’d guess Shaw would like, are thought-provoking.

There are moments when Giesser’s treatment is brash. Scenes that show politicians campaigning share a tub-thumping quality the writing is trying to criticise. And a satire on the American press abroad is too shouty to be funny. But Giesser’s own direction makes the action clear. And the cast members get to show their strengths taking on an awful lot of extra roles. Richard Lynson, who performs as a vicar and General MacArthur, deserves highlighting, brilliantly switching characters and bringing out intriguing parallels.

The idea of changing the setting doesn’t detract from Shaw. So, how much you enjoy the show will depend on how you feel about the original. The piece is a family drama, a romance, and a moral conundrum all mashed up. Plenty to enjoy or too much of a mix seem equally valid responses. And it all arrives at speed, with many of the characters’ reactions rushed and plenty of the paradoxes Shaw liked to underscore on offer.

The Conroe family who the action revolves around are a (too) strange bunch, pretty much all unlikeable. The mother and one son, who is in the military, seem happy following a plan from the black sheep of the family, Richard, to take the place of the vicar and be executed for helping local rebels. The fact that motives are vague is partly the point. The dark humour around the situation builds – the scene of Richard’s kangaroo trial is good – but the production isn’t quite witty enough overall.

Giesser has the sensible idea of emphasising the strong female roles so that Jill Greenacre, as a formidable matriarch, has some good lines. And a biracial step-niece is a role managed very well by Izyan Hay, who makes the most of her character’s brief backstory. There are problems for Beth Burrows as the vicar’s wife, though. Making her a lawyer who cannot practice because she’s a woman is a complication too far (bear in mind she is English yet dealing with American martial law).

Burrows is also the show’s love interest – a further tricky call. It’s a little odd, or maybe Shavian, that the struggling marriage is more interesting than the new romance we see. Burrows gets more sense of emotional conflict into one short scene with her husband than anyone else manages in the whole play. Her character’s potential affair is with Richard and may – or may not – be a motive for his self-sacrifice. It’s really only with Richard, who gives the original play its title, that the show comes together. The self-proclaimed Satanist, an arms dealer and general ne’er-do- well, makes a great role for Callum Woodhouse, who brings neat touches of understatement to the part: he is funny, charming but also biting and cynical. Woodhouse carries the show. Shaw’s philosophising villain is fascinating but, regrettably, not quite enough to save the night.

Until 1 February 2025

www.southwarkplayhouse.co.uk

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“The Grim” at the Old Red Lion Theatre

Edmund Morris’ hour-long play is a fringe theatre treat. The writing is neat and the performances are fun. It’s a comedy horror, with a touch of crime drama, set in an undertaker’s shop, with a murderer returning from the dead. I laughed a lot and jumped (once). It’s all good.

Morris’ comedy is strong on observation – his characters being of a similar age and sharing a love of sweets helps. Setting the play in the 1960s might need elaborating on, but there’s some nice detail about Irish folklore that impresses. Best of all, every line is delivered enthusiastically. Morris also stars and, if he rushes a little, his speed helps the humour overall. Louis Davison is funny, too (they are a strong comedy pairing). He revels in trying to creep us out with scary stories, including one about the titular spectral dog (I could have had more of this). With the arrival of Jackie (Harry Carter), a formidable yet charismatic gangster who has been shot after killing a policeman, the jokes continue.

A twist that the corpse brings to the crime sub plot might be expanded, both boys believing what they read in the papers could be questioned and a few clues beforehand would have been nice. Nor is a spooky phone call explained fully. Maybe it doesn’t need to be? Like the spooky sound effects (from Fergus Carver) unnerving the audience is reason enough. The direction from Ben Woodhall is sharp, the show whizzes by, and leaving an audience wanting more is no bad thing. Morris isn’t afraid of clichés – comedy, horror or crime – and he uses them well, creating an accomplished, knowing script that is highly entertaining.

Until 18 January 2025

www.oldredliontheatre.co.uk

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“Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” at the Almeida Theatre

Director Rebecca Frecknall is an expert in staging Tennessee Williams’ plays. While her acclaimed production of A Streetcar Named Desire, which also started in this Islington venue, is due back in the West End in February, this latest revival deserves similar success. Frecknall appreciates the tenor of each piece, marking this one by its force. There is a violence to the language, more tense than poetic, that is undoubtedly powerful.

There’s star casting… if that’s your thing. Kingsley Ben-Adir and Daisy Edgar-Jones take the roles of Brick and Maggie, whose failed marriage we watch. Ben-Adir is an excellent stage drunk (essential here) and gives a cleverly passive performance as the former sports star drinking himself into oblivion. Edgar-Jones makes her character bravely unsympathetic, taking care that we don’t feel sorry for Maggie. There’s a little too much shouting, especially considering Maggie’s paranoia about being overheard, and Edgar-Jones’ physicality isn’t quite convincing (might she be a little young for the role?), but she is suitably formidable and an engaging stage presence.

Maggie and Brick’s dilemma is a good deal simpler than some of the drama in Williams’ classics. The arguments are fraught and drag a little. The wider family dynamics, including the drama surrounding Brick’s father, are interesting but also repetitious. It is Lennie James’ superb performance as ‘Big Daddy’ that elevates the long act between father and son, while the complexity Clare Burt adds to her role as ‘Big Momma’ lights up her scenes. With both of these experienced performers, some of Williams’ humour is allowed through – tricky but welcome.

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Seb Carrington and Lennie James

Frecknall focuses on Brick, who is barely off stage. His trauma around the death of his best friend Skipper provides the play’s emotional content and leads to a lot of talk about truth and lies. Ben-Adir gets credit for angst and is aided by an accompanying pianist with a suitably discordant score from Angus MacRae. Seb Carrington takes this additional, non-speaking part and, as the action progresses it becomes clear that he is a ghostly Skipper. Carrington is excellent, strangely ethereal and an unforgettable presence.

Probably like most of the audience, the production is in no doubt that Brick and Skipper’s relationship was romantic. Williams’ notes in the text itself are more elastic, and it might surprise that a 2023 production doesn’t lean into that ambiguity. But the result is certainly anguished. This is a tortured affair – and great drama. Coming soon to the Almeida is a Eugene O’Neill play, it will be exciting to see what Frecknall makes of another American great.  

Until 1 February 2025

www.alemida.co.uk

Photos by Marc Brenner

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“The Tempest” at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane

Director Jamie Lloyd delivers every time. The big draw for his new production of Shakespeare’s late play is the West End debut of Sigourney Weaver as Prospero and, since she never leaves the stage, we get a lot of her. You came for a star? You get a star…

Weaver’s is not the clearest delivery I’ve heard, but it is good. She is a focused presence, often stationary, drawing in energy as her character’s magic controls what’s going on. We never doubt this Prospero’s power – which diminishes tension a little – but Weaver is truly magnetic.

No doubt it’s a thrill to see such famous faces on stage (Lloyd’s career proves as much). But the production has more to offer. There’s a reason actors of Weaver’s status want to work with him: the production is bold, controlled, and has big ideas.

Let’s take the bombastic first; Soutra Gilmour’s set is stunning. Shakespeare hasn’t been staged at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane in a long time and the space, so perfect for big musicals, is huge. Maybe with a nod to Weaver’s movies (although it is described as “barren”) the isle’s setting looks like a moonscape. Gilmour works marvels with huge curtains of gauze. For added drama there’s Jon Clark’s ambitious lighting design including some tricky total blackouts.

The island is, famously, “full of noises”. Sound designers Ben and Max Ringham must have been rubbing their hands at the job. Their work is loud. Too often the amplification is to the detriment of the poetry, but the effects are good and help with the plot. The Ringham’s are also co-composers to a score from Michael ‘Mikey J’ Asante, available to buy soon I’d bet.

For all the epic feel, the production is emphatically not cinematic. Lloyd knows theatre shouldn’t compete with film – it has something else to offer (that’s his point when he uses live recordings). There are good old fashioned theatrical techniques here, including a lot of aerial work for… Ariel!

To further balance the grand touches, this is also a cerebral version of The Tempest. Weaver reflects the thought process behind the grief, revenge, and forgiveness that is going on. And Lloyd points out that much of this is happening in people’s heads. It is the mental anguish Prospero’s illusions creates that are continually emphasised (notably, the joyous wedding masque is downplayed). There’s a focus on choreography, with characters coming forward into a spotlight or circling one another in their confusion. It all looks great. And, often it makes the play easy to follow. But there is a sense that characters are puppets for Prospero… or maybe for Lloyd.

Much of the cast suffer from the stylised staging. The play’s villains merge into one, despite the efforts of Tim Steed and Oliver Ryan. Young lovers (Mara Huf and James Phoon) fade into the background. Like romance, there’s little room for humour so Jason Barnett’s Stephano and Mathew Horne’s Trinculo (always difficult roles) are also lost. Jude Akuwudike and Selina Cadell, as Alonso and Gonzalo, fare better and make their roles unusually interesting.

Mason Alexander Parks in The Tempest
Mason Alexander Park

It’s the characters that are other-worldly that excel. An unrecognizable Forbes Masson takes the part of Caliban; the physicality of his performance is commendable. Mason Alexander Park’s Ariel is particularly impressive, benefitting from the music in the show and its special effects. Affection for Prospero is balanced well with the desire for freedom, giving the character a melancholy touch. And there’s an element of theatricality to this Ariel that is fascinating; they seem to enjoy tricks played and fear induced. Park is the only challenge to Weaver’s dominance and does so well that they may be the real star of the show.

Until 1 February 2025

www.thejamielloydcompany.com

Photos by Marc Brenner