Cindy Marcolina - Page 9

Jim Culleton directs Andrew Bennett and Janet Moran as they take turns to open up in conversational confessional style. They do so in a liminal space designed by Zia Bergin-Holly. The set is suspended between interior and exterior: the outside wall of a building, with its stripped posters and lonely lamppost is at odds with the comfy armchair and barstools that stand in front of it. While Mairead and Mal meet old and new flames, O’Brien takes the opportunity to explore the fallout of repressed homosexuality and the rampant toxic relationship with alcohol.

The poet and director crafts a poignant exploration of manipulation, coercive control, and domestic violence, infusing it with poetic interludes that are the definite highlight of the project.

The term “diva” rose to prominence with its relation to an operatic background and popularly revolves around the traits of someone’s character. Typically (and misogynistically) attributed to women, it’s used to describe a person whose temperament and self-importance are quite difficult to handle. Traditionally, it’s strikingly negative and obviously patronising. The definition has relaxed these days, defining personalities whose presence in pop culture is of unignorable social and cultural value. But the Beyonces and Lady Gagas of the world are only the last in a line of artists who left their mark on the history of entertainment.

With strands of simulation theory and a vibe steeped in folklore, myths, and legends, the play follows two souls as they come back and find each other in three timelines. 

Union is half love letter to a changing city and half harangue against the soulless destruction of local communities for the benefit of a coffee shop chain. Max Wilkinson offers an abundance of topical matters, slightly overdoing it, and better suited for a longer running time.

Fairly outdated morals go hand in hand with a strikingly modern laddish attitude, while a melodramatic ending eagerly awaits. It’s a relatively wordy and stuffy production, but it celebrates a neglected, forgotten playwright who had quite the knack for a witty response.

Disruption comes from a place of curiosity. It’s an intellectually provocative story, expertly woven into an absorbing piece of choral theatre.

Olly Medlicott’s vision is crystal clear, but this iteration looks and sounds more like the workshop of an early draft. It lacks punch and falls short in atmosphere at this stage, but it can gain it, doubtlessly.

Written a decade ago, the piece is perhaps more significant now than it was in 2013. Beneatha’s Place is unquestionably and ideologically hefty, academically relevant, and socio-politically topical. It very much rides on the coattails of Raisin, covering the same points with an added first-hand representation of the political climate of pre-independent Nigeria and an academic look at the current societal dynamics. It’s an explicit lecture on privilege and prejudice. 

Fisheye is the crown jewel of the first edition of Omnibus Theatre’s AI Festival. If expanded and developed accordingly, it might have the reach and impact of a new earth-shaking classic. Pout’s world-building is ambitious but consistent and decisive, as is his attention to detail and allegoric flair. It’s easy to see the future it will have.

There are plenty of riveting reflections, from the science versus belief argumentation, to how the awareness of mortality plagues our race, pushing us to research a more significant meaning to make sense of it.

The summer season of the Bush opens with a politically charged show about the delicate, complex connection between Jonathan, who lives in Hong Kong, and Chloe, an ambitious second-generation Hongkonger in England. Their long-distance relationship works through music recommendations and sweet messages, but, when dissent explodes in their motherland, they get caught up in the fight for a brighter future for the country. AJ Yi writes a sensitive, romantic look into social and political engagement from the perspective of two hopeful youngsters from wildly different backgrounds.

The writers want so badly for this to be a soberly romantic mix between The Notebook and The Bridges of Madison County via Dear Evan Hansen, but only manage to hit the nails of its coffin. It’s unexciting, unengaging, and as deep as a rivulet. The characters are one-dimensional figurines, including the protagonist, whose only personality trait is her grief and inability to love anyone else but Stephen. 

While Greg Wilkinson’s play is incredibly thought-provoking, the majority of its themes are offered and then left unexplored. AI becomes the incidental catalyst for the downfall of the couple, but there’s more to it than that.

The play is unforgiving. It tears apart the Met Police, their brutal questioning techniques, gross negligence, finger-pointing, and the inherent duplicity of governmental affairs. It’s a refreshingly political addition to the West End. 

Sarah Middleton’s Shewolves was quite the success at Edinburgh Festival Fringe last year, so it’s not a surprise it’s now made its way to London. Directed by Hannah Stone, it’s a high-energy production with a young soul. Gurjot Dhaliwal (Priya) and Harriet Waters (Lou) are a close-knit cast, effortlessly comedic as they spiral into unforeseen panic.

After playing to sold-out crowds for their whole run at VAULT Festival earlier in the year and winning an Origins Award for Outstanding New Work, Soho Theatre learnt why I F*cked You In My Spaceship has been the talk of London’s fringe scene. ​​Louis Emmitt-Stern’s play is a tender exploration of the hairline cracks between couples fuelled by precise humour and a penchant for a great one-liner. Leo and Dan try to spice up their sex life; Emily and Anna are ready to take the next step. Ultimately, it’s the story of a gradual alienation from our safe space.

When Holly Martins arrives in Vienna to start a new job after the Second World War, he learns that his childhood friend Harry Lime died a few days prior. A broke novelist who was promised a cut in his business, he finds Harry’s sudden death suspicious and starts to investigate. Considered one of the best British films, it was only a matter of time before Carol Reed and Graham Greene’s 1949 film The Third Man received the musical treatment. With words by Don Black and Christopher Hampton and music by George Fenton, this premiere is a mid-weight noir directed by Trevor Nunn. While the cast is often impressive, the background against which the plot unravels is far more interesting than the story itself.

Kyle has just returned from Afghanistan. An American soldier who would do anything for his country, he was injured in a blast, losing both his legs and then some. Stripped of his pride, his job, and his manhood, he is the shell of a man. Andrew Rosendorf follows his character as he adjusts to a life of disability and comes to terms with his sexuality. The writer does a disservice to both characters and context.

The Unicorn is a multifaceted, sombre look at trauma and addiction laced with deliberately unwitting humour and a penchant for benign shock. Sam Potter writes an intense, eloquent, and exciting play in both themes and delivery.