The White Chip - Review

Southwark Playhouse, London

****

Written by Sean Daniels

Directed by Matt Ryan

Ed Coleman and Ashlee Irish

The White Chip (a reference to the Alcoholics Anonymous programme) is a meticulous exploration of one man’s journey through alcohol addiction. Following acclaimed USA productions, Sean Daniels’s play now makes its London debut under the sharp eye of director Matt Ryan and producer Danielle Tarento.

In a Herculean performance of physical and mental prowess, Ed Coleman is Steve, Daniels’s loosely autobiographical protagonist. Lee Newby’s simple yet effective designs create a space in which we follow Steve from his first beer (aged twelve) through his stumbling into the grasp of addiction and the ensuing college and workplace trauma and on into rehab admittances and despair.

Daniels’s script is relentless in its tracking of Steve’s tragic arc, with the extent to which we witness the denials and deceptions, to family, friends and co-workers proving harrowing and profoundly well written theatre.

Alongside Coleman, Mara Allen and Ashlee Irish deliver all the necessary supporting roles to flesh out the narrative, both giving performances that reflect the energy of the show’s leading man. Amidst an array of Tarento’s typically excellent production values, with the evening’s dialogue being so rapid-fire and intense, there are some disappointing moments when the usually excellent Max Pappenheim’s sound design wanders in its accuracy.

But for all this play's brilliance in its writing and its powerhouse performances and notwithstanding the story's uplifting endgame, at 100 minutes with no interval it all makes for an evening of tough drama that at times prove too exhausting to effectively digest. The breakneck sequencing of scenes and tableaux, all key points in the narrative that are lined up to demand our attention can feel overwhelming. 

The White Chip is an important play that demands to be seen. Tough gig though.

Runs until 16th August

Photo credit:Danny Kaan

Till The Stars Come Down - Review

 Theatre Royal Haymarket, London

*****

Written by Beth Steel

Directed by Bijan Sheibani

Dorothy Atkinson

The West End transfer of the National Theatre's Till The Stars Come Down sees this stunning new play evolve into a production that is as stellar as its title.

Powerfully perceptive and set in a northern mining village where the pit has long since closed, Beth Steel’s writing focuses on three sisters on the day of the youngest sibling’s wedding. Rarely does a narrative soar from brilliantly observed (and perfectly timed) hilarity one minute, to harrowing family despair the next as passions, secrets and lies merge to fuel a narrative that culminates in perhaps the most exquisitely performed heartbreak to be found in London today.

This is a story about love, desire, resentment, ageing, grief and bigotry with Bijan Sheibani’s company of 10 all delivering faultless expertise in their acting. The sororal trio comprises Sinead Matthews (as Sylvia, the bride) and Lucy Black (as Hazel) returning to the production from the National, with Aisling Loftus (Maggie) a newcomer to the transfer. All three are powerhouse performers. Also returning are Philip Whitchurch as the bride’s Uncle Pete and Alan Williams as Tony, the sisters’ widowered father. Williams in particular delivers a turn that is a masterclass in understated excellence.

The evening’s comedy moments are driven by Dorothy Atkinson’s Aunty Carol, a woman who is as monstrous as she is relatable and recognisable. Gifted most of the evening’s snappy one-liners, Atkinson is the definition of tragi-comical brilliance.

The show is a technical treat with Samal Blak’s ingenious revolve being perfectly lit as ever by Paule Constable.

Beth Steel’s writing was good last year on the South Bank. Performed by this company at the Theatre Royal Haymarket, it’s bloody brilliant and the capital's drama highlight of the summer!

Runs until 27th September

Photo credit: Manuel Harlan

Evita - Review

London Palladium, London




***



Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber
Lyrics by Tim Rice
Directed by Jamie Lloyd

The cast of Evita

Six years after bringing an outstanding Evita to London’s Open Air Theatre (click here for a review of that 2019 production) and amidst a blaze of well orchestrated publicity, Jamie Lloyd helms his show into the London Palladium. But what was once wondrous in Regents Park, fails to stun in the West End.

In 2019 it was Samantha Pauly, an actor relatively unknown in the UK who played Eva, delivering a performance that shone both in its excellence and its leading of her supporting company. Today however it is Hollywood’s wunderkind Rachel Zegler who heads the bill, a young woman who knows how to play to the camera but who lacks the chops to convincingly act through song on stage.

Familiar with delivering leading roles in starry close-up on the big screen, Zegler has amassed a following of millions. But with only a modest exposure to having performed in (let alone leading) a major show on Broadway or in the West End, it appears that much like Eva Duarte herself, Zegler has been hired for star quality over experience. 

Any production of Evita has to rest on the strengths of its leading lady, who in this production is sometimes found to be missing in action. As has been widely reported, Zegler sings Don’t Cry For Me Argentina, from the Palladium's outside balcony to a bunch of assembled passers-by, while the paying crowd *inside* the theatre are reduced to mere voyeurs, watching her via a big screen livestream. That the translucent screen barely shields the show’s upstage orchestra who remain visible throughout, is a distraction. 

Much has been made of Lloyd’s use of live-action video, notably with his 2023 take on Sunset Boulevard that saw Tom Francis careering around London’s Strand before winding up back on stage at The Savoy. But that of course was different. Francis was not the show’s main star, nor his song the evening’s biggest number.

At the Palladium we find Evita performing one of the most exquisite songs in the canon, from a remote location that is at best, acoustically compromised. Unlike previous on-stage Evitas, remove this Eva’s microphone and she doesnt just become hard to hear, she becomes completely inaudible, Lloyd's staging denying the audience the experience of hearing Zegler's natural tone and timbre as she delivers the classic number. It is not an unreasonable expectation that a live musical (and especially this musical, for which the money keeps rolling in at up to £245 per ticket) should deliver songs that are sung live on stage, all performed to the highest standard that the performers’ voices and the venue’s acoustics will allow. At the Palladium, the audience is being cheated. 

And while the outside throng of several hundred are no doubt appreciating the nightly free rendition of the show’s nine o’clock number, as Lloyd’s camera pulls back to reveal Soho’s mostly empty Argyll Street (including the distracting logo of the next door Pret restaurant that hoves into view), it all seems a little tacky and contrived and, both literally and artistically, many miles away from the narrative's intended romance of Buenos Aires and the Casa Rosada. Good theatre should suspend the audience's disbelief, transporting the audience to another place. When the only place that they are transported to is a grimy London side street, then that fragile bubble of imagination bursts.  

Back inside the theatre, Fabian Aloise’s choreography remains exciting and imaginative, equally Jon Clark’s brutal lighting designs heighten the violence of Peron’s fascism. But the production's sound design is ghastly, with too many songs coming across as though they are being shouted from the stage into an inaudible oblivion.

The Palladium balcony scene has proved a brilliant marketing gimmick, with the show having grabbed news headlines across the country and word of mouth spreading like wildfire. In reality however, the scene’s flaws see it amounting to little more than a modern interpretation of The Emperor’s New Clothes.

Jamie Lloyd’s revived Evita proves that star quality is no substitute for talent.

Runs until 6th September

Photo credit: Marc Brenner

Quadrophenia - A Mod Ballet - Revew

Sadler's Wells, London

*****

Written by Pete Townshend

Choreographed by Paul Roberts

Directed by Rob Ashford

Paris Fitzpatrick

Pete Townshend’s Quadrophenia is a glorious fusion of classical modern music, outstanding dance and world class stagecraft that creates an evening of outstandingly provocative entertainment. Playing at Sadler’s Wells, the classic 1973 album that became a movie in 1979, is now translated into ballet under Rob Ashford’s direction and Paul Robert’s choreography.

To be fair, both men have had their visionary work enhanced by the musical foundations laid down by Rachel Fuller’s orchestration that had taken The Who’s legendary album, stripped out the lyrics and let the music sing its own narrative. As a mark of the evening’s pedigree, the backing soundtrack has been recorded by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

Quadrophenia speaks of  Britain’s culture in the 1960s played through the eyes of Jimmy, a teenage Londoner and his post-adolescent journey through desires, frustrations, music and gang culture. This was the Mods v Rockers era, with Townshend’s narrative picking out with pinpoint precision Jimmy’s mental anguish. And as a part of the meticulously created backdrop to this dance, as the Mods battled the Rockers beneath Brighton Pier, there’s more than a hint of West Side Story’s Jets vs Sharks in the conflict.

On the night of this review Jimmy was danced, spectacularly, by Paris Fitzpatrick. Notable characters (though the entire company are outstanding) that impact Jimmy are The Mod Girl (Taela Yeomans-Brown) and The Ace Face (Dan Baines). Townshend’s story also picks out the impact of the horrors of the Second World War on Jimmy’s father, where Stuart Neal delivers a haunting routine.

The stage set may be beautifully simple, but the projections designed by Yeastculture.org are state of the art. Bending our sense of perception and reality, the multi-dimensional imagery elevates the music and dance to a level rarely seen on a London stage. And don’t forget that this ballet’s costumes are designed by the legendary Paul Smith and yes, there is even a Lambretta on stage too!

Quadrophenia as a ballet takes a glimpse of England's history, portraying it with authenticity and unbelievable imagination, with flawless components from both its cast and creative team. Only on for a short while, it is unmissable!

(And dare I ask - any chance of Pete Townshend and Rachel Fuller transforming Tommy into a ballet???)

Runs until 13th July then on tour

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Hercules - Review

Theatre Royal Drury Lane, London

**

Music by Alan Menken

Lyrics by David Zippel

Book by Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah

Directed and choreographed by Casey Nicholaw

Luke Brady

Rarely does a show descend from the pantheon of animated Hollywood class to the underworld of live-action West End mediocrity, but so it is with the legend of Disney’s Hercules that sees a gloriously witty movie regress into an evening of overpriced tedium.

It is hard to know where to rest the blame for this Herculean disappointment. Does it lie with Robert Horn and Kwame Kwei-Armah for their luke-warm, cliche-riddled book? Or with Casey Nicholaw for sloppily helming an overly camped-up show that is riddled with wardrobe and prop malfunctions? Or with James Ortiz and Dane Laffrey’s designs whose clunky depictions of beasts and monsters appear to have learned nothing from the puppetry genius of The Lion King? Or with Jeff Croiter’s lighting design that incredibly (for a stage as large as Drury Lane’s) dispenses with follow-spot operators, relying instead on pre-programmed lighting plots that frequently fail to illuminate their subject? 

Mostly the acting is strong - Luke Brady goes the distance in the title role, looking and sounding dutifully divine. Mae Ann Jorolan as Meg makes fine work of her solo numbers, while the five Gospel-infused Muses are a blast. Trevor Dion Nicholas reliably turns in a decent shtick as Phil, Hercules’s guide on his path to godliness.

The biggest casting disappointment however lies in Stephen Carlile’s Hades. James Woods’ 1997 voicing of Disney’s original Hades was an inspired delivery of the sharpest satire and to be fair, a devilishly tough act to follow. Carlile emasculates this most infernal of bad-guys, reducing him to a poorly performed pantomime villain. 

Alan Menken’s two strong compositions, Go The Distance and Zero to Hero support act one. The second half offers nothing that’s hummable, in a show that (almost) takes Disney’s Hercules from hero to zero.

Booking until 28th March 2026

Photo credit: Matt Crockett

The Midnight Bell - Review

Sadler's Wells, London

***

Directed and choreographed by Matthew Bourne

The company of The Midnight Bell

Inspired by the novels of Patrick Hamilton, The Midnight Bell plunges us into the murky, world of 1930s Soho. And there, thanks to Paule Constable’s gloomy lighting, it remains for one hour and fifty minutes (apart from a twenty minute interval). While Lez Brotherston's set design is atmospheric, the action is not always visible. That the follow-spots sometimes fail to light their intended subject doesn’t help matters. 

The titular Midnight Bell is a pub where various people – lonely, listless, cocky or whatever – meet. Most are looking for love or sex in some form or other, with some of the encounters working out better than others.  

Of course the choreography is sensitive, imaginative and very watchable. Some of the gestures are witty too and it’s all very human. This is Matthew Bourne, after all, and he’s a master of his own form of body language.  But the story telling is too vague and given the shadowy lighting it’s often hard to distinguish one character from another although each is, apparently, drawn specifically from the novels. 

Terry Davies’s evocative music, pre-recorded by an eleven piece orchestra with a singer, fits the mood of the piece perfectly. He deploys an effective use of voice, sailing over the top of the musical texture, to create mystery, sadness or wistfulness. Like Bourne, Davies is very good at evoking mood with, for example, a minimalist percussion rhythm accompanying a sex scene in a seedy hotel that is aurally arresting. Less successful is the use of characters miming 1930s songs which simply feels lazy. Dance in general, and ballet in particular, is a non-verbal medium and the songs are a jarring interruption. 

This revival of The Midnight Bell, first seen in 2023, is reasonably enjoyable theatre, athough the second half drags. Not Matthew Bourne’s finest.

Runs until 21st June, then on tour.

Photo credit: Johan Persson

Reviewed by Nicola Klein

Just For One Day - Review

Shaftesbury Theatre, London

****

Book by John O'Farrell

Directed by Luke Sheppard

The cast of Just For One Day

Forty years on, Just For One Day is more than a musical — it’s a time machine, a call to action, and an electrifying reminder of what’s possible when people come together for something bigger than themselves. 

The cast of Just For One Day are nothing short of exceptional. Their talent radiates from the stage, bringing both laughter and emotion in perfect balance. One moment you’re laughing out loud, and the next, a single tear slips down your cheek — such is the emotional range of this production. Every performer brings depth and nuance, but a special mention must go to Julie Atherton whose portrayal of Margaret Thatcher manages to be the most endearing version of Thatcher one could imagine. It’s a testament to the show’s clever writing and bold direction that even such polarizing figures are given surprising humanity.

From the very first note, the musical direction is nothing short of phenomenal. The band delivers a sound so rich and immersive, it feels like Live Aid has been reborn on stage. The energy, the urgency, the sheer volume — it’s not just heard, it’s felt. 

Just For One Day doesn’t shy away from the complexities of its own history. Modern issues — such as the common misconception of Africa as a single country, the predominance of white acts on the Live Aid stage, and the now-controversial lyric “Thank God it’s them instead of you” — are all addressed with both sensitivity and humour. The show skilfully acknowledges that while the messaging and representation reflected a very different era, the heart behind it was genuine. It honours the intention to help the people of Ethiopia, while also exploring how the event was shaped to resonate with the British public of the time. This balance of self-awareness and compassion gives the show a powerful layer of depth, reminding audiences that doing good is often messy — but always worth striving for.

One of the most striking moments in the show is when Craige Els's Bob Geldof asks: Where’s God? And in that question lies the heart of Just For One Day. The answer, subtle but powerful, echoes through the music and the movement: when people work together, when they believe in something greater, they become the miracle themselves.

“Who’s going to pay attention to your dreams?” the song asks of us. In 1985, the world did. And watching this today, it feels like it still can.

Reviewed by Suzie Kennedy

Booking until 10th January 2025

Photo credit: Evan Zimmerman