Cindy Marcolina - Page 7

Directed by Elizabeth Kaye Sortun, while it offers a look at the complexities of toxic dynamics, coercion, consent, and control, it doesn’t truly achieve its goal. Verlo’s past is colourful and intriguing, but this isn’t the production that makes it shine. It lacks the aplomb that inspires reflection and change, settling on underwhelming attempts at cheap laughs.

Lily Wolff directs with gorgeous brushstrokes. Smooth, creative changes of pace come with gradual shifts in the lighting and sound designs, revealing Mary’s interiority and explaining her history. Leeanne Hutchinson’s First Lady is a complex, hurt mother who can’t seem to overcome the pain in her life. She’s matched in performance by Christopher Kelly, who plays Brady as well as a collection of his peculiar subjects. There’s a tense chemistry between them. The minimalism of the visuals engages the imagination of the audience, putting the actors on a blank canvas.

It’s a tale of resilience, resentment, and regret told with instinctive storytelling and a dash of friendly advice. Photos of her relatives and snapshots of her life accompany her narrative, giving a visual reference to her stories. It’s a delicate, lovely play from a woman whose strength could never be ignored.

Captivating writing is matched by a tireless performance that transports you in time with a complex breakdown of drug abuse. He admits that he makes it sound too good for comfort: the chemsex, the dissociation from his problems, the unbridled fun of it. On the opposite side, he places the drug-induced psychosis that landed him in a psych ward, his erratic behaviour, and the continuous benders that followed. There isn’t any preachiness or superiority in his delivery. Breaking the Castle introduces a humble, charismatic performer whose lived experience makes him an emotionally intelligent and profound man.

With light and breezy writing, Jorgensen delivers an accurate analysis of what it feels like to try to find a partner in the 21st Century in 35 delightful minutes of Regency fun. It’s a quick glimpse into the horror of modern romance.

My Father’s Nose is a surprisingly heartwarming show about death and moving on. Douglas Walker’s comedy is shaped with hilarious non-humour and eccentric irony. His sorrow is mirrored by the stranger’s sympathy in a well-rounded journey into irrational fears and comical anecdotes. Walker offers a poetic view of life and dementia, comparing Alzheimer’s disease to a locked cupboard in an astonishing image. Everything is in there, his dad just can’t open it.

All in all, it’s not a great play, but it’s also not a particularly bad one either. It’s tentatively poetic but commonplace, with a dash of humdrum personal reflection in the mix. Jealousy, love, pain, bereavement, it’s a to-do list of life.

What seems like a silly little comedy about millennial dread at first becomes a pointedly anti-Tory invective in Louis Rembges’s Chatham House Rules. It’s a production for the chronically online, anti-Brexit internet addicts, and those who simply want to have a laugh before they’re thrown into a vortex of political revenge. The zillennial experience is summed up with funny videos that ease its constant doom. Full of viral references and deliciously cynical, the monologue deftly handles poetic interiority and iconic dark humour.

Box Tale Soup adapt MR James’s ghost story into a play that has the same dark feel of a Penny Dreadful episode. Elegantly directed by Adam Lenson and featuring impressive puppetry and stage tricks, it’s a production of outstanding craft and storytelling.

Zach Hawkins is incredible with Ryan’s exuberant resignation. He waltzes through the flowing stream of consciousness with ease, handling the final shift in tone with depth and reflection.

Funny and distinctively Beckettian, Deuteronomy is about everything and nothing. The two men tackle the meaning of life, eternal damnation, and heavenly salvation the same way they discuss the differences between apples and peaches.

Ambling between cheaply crafted stock characters and expanding only the lesser interesting ones, the project needs work desperately. The topic has the potential to make for a provocative and arresting comic drama about the fallout of the system, but, so far, it doesn’t show it.

At this stage, it might be a bit wobbly, but promises great potential. It’s a portrait of toxic masculinity and female empowerment, a personal reflection of the horrors experienced during the regime. Mostly, it’s genuinely amusing. Alminas spins a yarn full of peculiar characters and relentless social commentary. She just needs to tinker it appropriately.

Written and directed by Luke Thornborough, this production hails from New Zealand with wit and charm, offering a bleak look into survival. After empty chit-chat about embarrassing music and food, the two characters dig into spirituality and science. Kat Glass and Courtney Bassett give stellar performances in a production that could be trimmed slightly for the benefit of its pace. It’s a contemporary space Odyssey.

It’s so rare to be surrounded by the complete absence of light, that part alone is a treat in itself. Truthfully, it’s slightly alarming at the start, but once you relax into it, you’ll come to appreciate all the different elements that make the production and the absolute brilliance of the company. To be able to tug at a person’s deepest instincts is an astounding success.

A collection of funny characters accompanies Sophie as she discovers her where she comes from. Directed by Rob van Vuuren and boasting a number of awards in their native country, Île is a good-hearted look at what makes us, us.

Abridged from Eileen Atkins’s play, the four-hander shows the visceral longing shared by the two women. With strands of personal letters and diary entries, they cross the thin lines between admiration, affection, and attraction.

The Titanic has been in the news quite a lot this year with its endlessly fascinating, tragic story. When a third-class passenger accosts the chairman of the White Star Line as he tries to spot his family on the quay before the crossing, an unlikely friendship starts. One a reverent from Scotland, the other a well-bread gentleman who’s proud of the work he’s done.

Pretentiously meta and absolutely bland, the piece is a paceless trudge. While the character alludes to sexual misconduct, by the end we still don’t know what happened. It’s not suspenseful, it’s merely frustrating.

Truly Siskind-Weiss’s father died when she was ten years old. Since then, her life has been divided by that watershed. In a tender monologue where she tries to make sense of death, Siskind-Weiss mourns the person she could have been. Grown up too quickly but still treated like a child, she now yearns for a simpler time when she could simply be reliant on someone.