Review Roundup: What Did Critics Think Of Phoebe Waller-Bridge's FLEABAG in the West End?

Written and performed by Phoebe Waller-Bridge (Fleabag, Killing Eve) and directed by Vicky Jones, Fleabag is a rip-roaring look at some sort of woman living her sort of life. Waller-Bridge is performing the one-woman show for the last time at Wyndham's Theatre in London's West End.

Fleabag may seem oversexed, emotionally unfiltered and self-obsessed, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. With family and friendships under strain and a guinea pig café struggling to keep afloat, Fleabag suddenly finds herself with nothing to lose.

Let's see what the critics thought!

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Marianka Swain, BroadwayWorld: Yet the interest isn't in seeing Waller-Bridge "shock", but in how her Fleabag plays off it - enjoying the provocation, pretending to withdraw a bawdy comment, but doing so with a glint in her eye. The brilliance of the piece is that it doesn't condemn or pity her, but builds a level of empathy for her mistakes, her jokes, her yearning for understanding and connection - even as it revels in who, exactly, unashamedly, she is. It's also one of the funniest nights you're likely to have in a theatre. The specificity of the humour, and the way it continues to build and loops around to unexpected destinations, is a joy throughout. The spot-on depiction of sibling intimacy, bristling with rivalry; a very London 'meet-cute' on the Tube; the push-pull guilt of being a "good" feminist; the tedious mechanics of sexting.

Dominic Cavendish, The Telegraph: The piece as a whole has a freshness in its directness and constant demand that the actress 'work' the room, luring us in. Fleabag unplugged still has a livewire energy about it - Waller-Bridge sitting predominantly nonchalantly in a high chair, clad in basic reddish sweater and skinny trousers, the eponymous character's life told in a mosaic of little vignettes (as if in flashback during a terrible job interview) that are greater than the sum of their parts, pulling together a profusion of thoughts about guilt, emancipation and self-worth.

Will Longman, London Theatre: Waller-Bridge embodies her unnamed character who spends half the hour-long act narrating incidents from her life, and the other musing on decisions she's made, questioning her motives, unravelling her own mind before us. She takes us by the wrist and drags us at a pace through break-ups, hook-ups, family and friends. She vocalises the thoughts that tickle your mind for a split second, before you realise you're a horrible person and should probably block them out. It's awkward, dirty, witty and raw.

Sarah Crompton, WhatsOnStage: But the power of Fleabag resides in the combination of these moments of pure hilarity with an undertow of sadness so profound that it hurts. Every feeling flits across Waller-Bridge's face; she never overplays anything but she makes us always remember the tragedy that her flawed heroine has brought into her own life. It's a terrific performance, beautifully realised, burnishing the legend that the star has already created. Welcome back.

Nick Curtis, Evening Standard: Full of sex, savagely inappropriate wit, shame and sadness, Phoebe Waller-Bridge's original one-woman version of Fleabag - which she is performing here for the last time, for 30 performances only - remains a potent piece of work. It's a bespoke vehicle for her sharp comic timing and physical wit as well as a nuanced piece of writing, and she plays the audience like a ukulele.

Natasha Tripney, The Stage: This was a fitting beginning for a show that goes to some murky places and delights in probing the wet, fleshy terrain between sexual empowerment and abasement. All the elements are there that would make it succeed on screen, but the stage show is darker and bleaker than the television series it spawned. It's less hopeful in many ways, but still very funny.

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