Man and Boy - Review

National Theatre, London

****

Written by Terence Rattigan

Directed by Anthony Lau

Ben Daniels and Malcolm Sinclair

Anthony Lau’s take on Terence Rattigan’s intriguing Man and Boy is a deliciously stylised slice of Manhattan in the 1930s.

Played out on a green baize and beneath an oppressively interrogatory lighting rig, the moments of the play’s high drama are delivered from table-tops. Rattigan’s world is one of high-stakes deals, with Georgia Lowe’s set and costume design creating an atmosphere that's driven by malevolent corruption and greed.

The plot hinges around the complex relationship between Romanian tycoon Gregor Antonescu and his sometime estranged son Basil Anthony - played by Ben Daniels and Laurie Kynaston respectively. 

Daniels’s Antonescu is a monster of corporate greed and manipulation - almost a Jeffrey Epstein of his time - with a compelling performance that commands both attention and contempt. Kynaston by contrast presents a complex creation of a profound fragility.

But in this melodramatic wonderland of neo-noir, it emerges that almost everyone is loathsome. Nick Fletcher turns in a great performance as Sven, Antonescu’s long-serving lieutenant. Malcolm Sinclair is equally magnificent as Mark Herries, a millionaire American industrialist who is as motivated as much by his homosexual cravings as he is driven for success on Wall Street. And then there’s Isabella Laughland as Countess Antonescu - a trophy blonde of a wife whose two-dimensionality is divine.

A fun script, cleverly performed, in a production that is fuelled by America’s era of Art Deco. As a glorious glimpse of human vileness, it’s quite possibly the finest show in town.

Runs until 14th March

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry - Review

Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

***

Music & lyrics by Passenger

Book by Rachel Joyce

Adaption co-created by Rachel Joyce, Peter Darling & Katy Rudd

Directed by Rachel Joyce

Mark Addy, Jenna Russell & company

There’s a flicker of a good yarn at the heart of The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry. Rachel Joyce’s story sees the titular Fry walk 500 miles across England, fleeing the baggage of a grief-laden marriage, to visit the bedside of a dying friend.

Not only are there the makings of a good story, the show also boasts standout excellence from Mark Addy as Fry and Jenna Russell as his wife Maureen. Both leading characters are deeply damaged and it is a credit to both performers that they deliver performances of a tender complex fragility.

It’s just a shame that such excellence is smothered in an evening of mediocre musicality, wrapped up in a plot that lurches from one shallow cliche to the next. Passenger’s lyrics are found to be frequently expositional and witless, while the band of crusties who follow Fry on his pilgrimage appear to be little more than a bunch of lazily drawn two-dimensionals, straight out of central casting. 

The musical’s (rare) highlights both fall in act one with a classy tap-routine in From The Rooftops, and a moderately amusing set of lyrics in Out of Luck. 

Those who love Rachel Joyce’s book will probably enjoy the show. Otherwise The Proclaimers’ 1988 single I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles) offers a similarly themed story, and in under four minutes.

Runs until 18th April

Photo credit: Tristram Kenton

Debate: Baldwin vs Buckley - Review

Wilton's Music Hall, London

****

Adapted & directed by Christopher McElroen

Arnell Powell and Eric T. Miller

Only on for this week, Debate: Baldwin vs Buckley gives a historical trajectory to a remarkable event of some 61 years ago at the Cambridge Union.

In February 1965, Civil Rights activist and author James Baldwin, together with conservative publisher William F. Buckley Jnr. were both flown across the Atlantic to debate the motion “Is The American Dream At The Expense Of The American Negro?”. In what is perhaps one of the most effective pieces of verbatim theatre staged, Christopher McElroen directs his fellow  Americans, Arnell Powell (as Baldwin) and Eric T. Miller (Buckley) in a recreation of the debate.

An ingenious deployment of grainy archived newsreel footage - Norman St John Stevas the presenter - frames the speeches as Powell and Miller proceed to offer stunning interpretations of their characters’ arguments, each offering monologues of breathtaking length and complexity that prove compelling in their delivery. The text is of course a matter of record, with the evening’s artistic strengths therefore lying not so much in the words that were spoken, but rather in the flair with which they have been animated with such conviction and credibility.

The historic arguments are fascinating. In 1965 much of America’s black population was disenfranchised with much of the country’s South still segregated. Contexting the oratory of the era with the USA of today makes for interesting comparisons. While the Civil Rights movement achieved great milestones, the political dialogues of the 21st century of course offer a different and troubled take on America’s still fractured society. As the Far Right continues to preach hatred, many will argue that in much of the country the liberal Left equally weaponises racial disharmony and discord in pursuit of their objectives. 

Simply staged at a packed Wilton’s Music Hall, the show is enhanced by the supporting performances of Christopher Wareham and Tom Kiteley as David Heycock and Jeremy Burford respectively, who were the student pro/opponents of the motion back in the day.

For those with an interest in modern American history and politics, the play is unmissable.

Runs until 7th February

Photo credit: the american vicarious

Mrs President - Review

Charing Cross Theatre

***

Written by John Ransom Phillips

Directed by Bronagh Lagan

Keala Settle

By a curious coincidence, London’s Trafalgar Square is currently proving a theatrical shrine to Mary Todd Lincoln. As Oh, Mary! plays on Whitehall, just around the corner sees artist John Ransom Phillips’s Mrs President making a return visit to the Charing Cross Theatre, offering its own perspective on this most intriguing of First Ladies.

Remarkably, the work is not so much a piece of dramatic fiction as a (quite possibly ghost-written) authorised biography. On reading the production's programme notes we learn that the writer “..heard her [Mrs Lincoln]. She said, “I want you to tell my story”” Ransom Phillips also tells us that spirits are part of his life. But if the man is truly hearing voices then he is either mentally unwell, or alternatively and quite possibly, gifted with a truly remarkable access to the spirits of presidential wives.

A two-handler, Keala Settle is breathtaking in her take on the title role, exploring Mary Lincoln’s love for her husband and her grief at the loss of three (of four) children as well as witnessing President Lincoln’s assassination. Opposite Settle is Hal Fowler as Mathew Brady, the photographer who captured Lincoln’s portrait for the USA’s Five Dollar bill. Brady also morphs into other male characters who impacted upon Mary’s life, with his performance proving as carefully crafted as Settle’s.

Set throughout in Brady’s studio, the structure of the play (that has been 10 years in the writing) hints at a fascinating potential. But Ransom Phillips’s writing stumbles from expositional lecture (there’s an awful lot of history to cram into the evening’s one-act of 85 minutes) through to pseudo-psychodrama as he explores Mary’s tragedy. There’s a sound core to his narrative, but as a play it’s all just too inconsistent to sustain credibility.

Keala Settle’s work alone is worth the price of admission, even if Ransom Phillips’s script does not match her excellence. But if the writer can truly access the minds of America’s First Ladies, I can’t wait to see his take on Jill Biden.

Runs until 8th March

Photo credit: Pamela Raith

OVO - Review

Royal Albert Hall, London

*****

Written, choreographed and directed by Deborah Colker

Cirque Du Soleil's crickets leaping in the Royal Albert Hall

Just opened for their annual residency at the Royal Albert Hall, Cirque Du Soleil’s OVO dives down into the long grass, transporting its audience into a stunning world of bugs and creepy-crawlies, all depicted through a cast of ridiculously talented circus performers.

As a mysterious egg appears on stage, three clowns (Mateo Amieva (Spain), Robin Beer (UK) and Neiva Nascimento (Brazil) respectively performing as a scarab beetle, a bluebottle and a ladybug) break the ice with slick comedy and audience interaction. As is the hallmark of all good circus productions, recognisable dialogue is out – the performers relying on their miming skills to tell their brief moments of narrative. The emphasis here is on laughter rather than bravado and within minutes these gifted insects have the audience in the palm of their claws.

With the crowd suitably warmed up, five ants (a troupe from China) snake their way onto the stage, before they flip themselves onto their backs and start juggling, with their feet, first kiwi fruit and then corn cobs and finally each other! The artistes’ skill and co-ordination is frankly mind-boggling.

Before our eyes Caitlin Quinn and Ernesto Lea Place, from North and South America respectively, emerge as moths with breathtaking aerialist skills before the Japanese Eisuke Saito, here depicting a weevil, juggles 5 luminescent diabolos that brilliantly suggest fireflies darting around the arena. The first half of the evening wraps up with beetles suggested by a multinational troupe of trapeze artists, taking our collective breath away as they loop and leap between lofty platforms suspended from the venue’s ceiling.

Six performers wriggle onto the stage as leaf-bearing fleas before launching an assault on the Chinese Poles, which all paves the way for the show’s arachnids to be on display, the Chinese Qiu Jiangming deftly treating the slackwire as though it were spun silk. Also as a spider, Mongolian Nyamgerel Gankhuyag contorts herself into apparently impossible permutations of the human form as she lithely prowls in search of prey.

The evening’s final act is left to the crickets who bounce themselves off and back onto a trampo-wall of impossible height. Such is their pinpoint co-ordinated timing that the act becomes a blur of green people literally taking flight before our eyes!

Yet again, Cirque Du Soleil deploys meticulous planning, rehearsal, strength and above all skill, to present to their audiences a show that fuses the laws of physics into the absolute limits that a human body can endure. With a cast of more than 50 plus a stunning band to deliver the evening’s live score, the tickets are worth every penny. OVO is breathtakingly beautiful.

Runs until 1st March

Photo credit: Anne-Marie Forker

High Noon - Review

Harold Pinter Theatre, London

**

Written by Eric Roth

Based on Carl Foreman's motion picture

Directed by Thea Sharrock

Billy Crudup and Denise Gough

The translation of High Noon from Western to West End is a gamble as risky as awaiting the arrival of a convicted vengeful murderer on the midday train. But where Fred Zinnemann’s 1952 Oscar-winning masterpiece told a wondrous story, Eric Roth’s debut stage-play guns down the legendary yarn, leaving the exquisite original bleeding in the dust. 

Zinnemann relied on immaculate performance, cinematography and music for his screen masterpiece. Roth condenses that narrative into a claustrophobic work of trashy pulp fiction that’s very heavy on exposition and includes a liberal use of foul language that jars when set against the beauty of Carl Foreman's movie screenplay.

Billy Crudup delivers a decent turn as marshal Will Kane, a man forced to confront his nemesis Frank Miller, and on his wedding day too. Opposite Crudup and perhaps the evening’s biggest disappointment is Denise Gough’s two-dimensional and cliched turn as Kane’s bride Amy Fowler. The only performance that comes close to matching Crudup’s work is from Rosa Salazar as the town’s bar-owner and hooker, Helen Ramirez. Hers is a role of curious complexity that Salazar delivers with compassion and sensitivity. Elsewhere, too many of the cast are doubled or even tripled up in the roles they are allocated - that at times is more of a confusing distraction than an advancement of the plot.

Roth's tinkering with the political nuances of the movie is clumsy. Where Foreman's writing offered up a poignant allegory upon the evils of McCarthyism under which he had been persecuted, Roth (no-doubt inadvertently) sometimes sets his Kane on a pedestal alongside Donald Trump and Rudolph Giuliani, in his references to how effectively the marshal had cleaned up the town's historic crime problem. 

The usually brilliant Tim Hatley has designed a set of wooden slats that creates an effective suggestion of the brilliant sunshine of America’s frontierland, but is otherwise too nondescript an affair to effectively portray the tumbleweed nature of the town. Hatley does however conjure up an enchanting arrival of the eponymously climactic steam train - a staging that leaves one wishing he could have been as equally inspirational in his far more bland railway designs that are currently the backdrop to Starlight Express. And quite why Roth has chosen to pepper his script with snatches of Bruce Springsteen and Ry Cooder has to remain a mystery.

A clock sits atop the stage counting down the show’s 100 minutes. With the play lasting a quarter of an hour longer than the movie, those minutes drag. If High Noon is to mark a trend of Westerns being transformed into stage productions then may I respectfully suggest that Mel Brooks is approached for the rights to Blazing Saddles.

Runs until March 6th

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Woman in Mind - Review

Duke of York's Theatre, London

*****

Written by Alan Ayckbourn

Directed by Michael Longhurst

Sheridan Smith

Sheridan Smith as Susan in Alan Ayckbourn’s Woman in Mind gives one of the finest performances to be found on a London stage. Barely a comedy, the play shows the playwright's deepest, darkest brilliance, his narrative exploring Susan’s descent into psychosis. Smith gives the most harrowing portrayal of a woman whose mind is decaying before our eyes, unable to separate the reality of her own naturally flawed family from the false creations of her illness-oppressed brain.

In what is perhaps Michael Longhurst’s greatest work as a director, Smith captures Susan’s complex fragility with a conviction that seems almost effortless and which belies her acting genius. Onstage throughout, Smith delivers a masterclass in her craft.

The supporting cast are almost as magnificent as their leading lady. Tim McMullan is Gerald, Susan’s husband. A vicar and historian, his loving support for his wife is made all the more poignant when set against her apparent hatred for his professional commitments. Fine work too from Louise Brealey who plays Muriel, Susan’s live-in sister-in-law, whose calamitous catering gives rise to the evening’s few truly comedic moments.

In a heavily promoted stunt-casting, comedian Romesh Ranganathan plays Susan’s doctor, Bill. Albeit an accomplished performer Ranganathan proves the show’s weakest link, lacking the heavyweight chops to tackle a major West End role. As Susan’s imaginary family however, Sule Rimi, Chris Jenks and Safia Oakley-Green are all magnificent. Similarly, and in a comparatively tiny role, Taylor Uttley as Susan and Gerald’s son Rick adds an exquisitely painful layer of emotional agony to his mother’s tragedy.

Technically outstanding, Soutra Gilmour’s set enhanced by Andrzej Goulding’s subtly haunting video projections, delivers a beautiful creation of an English garden. Paul Arditti’s sound design proves to be another of the production’s ingenious treats.

In a performance that demands to be recognised at the Olivier Awards, Sheridan Smith makes Woman In Mind unmissable.

Runs until 28th February in London

Then touring:

4 – 7 MARCH 2026

Sunderland Empire, High Street West, Sunderland SR1 3EX

10 – 14 MARCH 2026

Theatre Royal, Glasgow, 282 Hope Street, Glasgow G2 3Q

Photo credit: Marc Brenner