This review will consider Christopher Cutting's play, The Accidental Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, directed originally by Anna Marshall, produced by Tobacco Tea Theatre Company and staged at White Bear Theatre. I will start with the mise-en-scène and the use of props. I felt that the props were extremely overused and cluttered the stage, particularly in transitions. Whilst this did add to the farcical madness of the performance, it felt that most of the props were unnecessary and used simply for comedic effect. The initial set comprised an armchair Upstage Left next to which sat a stuffed dog; a small serving cart Downstage Left labelled 'Orchestra Pit' on which sat various paraphernalia: tiny shoes, a tiny door and frame, a lidless box of what seemed to be wooden beads or husks, a service bell, and many others; and, finally, a coffee table Upstage Right with various obstacles on top of that as well. Whilst minimal in terms of stage proximity, these properties seemed cluttered and abundant. In the opening scene, Sophie Milnes (playing Dr John Watson, amongst other roles) and Joshua Phillips (playing Professor Moriarty, amongst other roles) bring the 'Orchestra Pit' serving cart Centerstage. After a slight tension between the two, over the precise placement of the cart — something I will return to later — the two sit and begin to 'mime' along to an audio clip, using the tiny shoes to mimic the sound of footsteps, opening and closing the tiny door to mimic the sound of a door opening and closing...we see where I'm going with this. It was extremely literal. But the most frustrating of these actions was the mime of thunder. Phillips lifts a small box that has 'thunder' written on it; Milnes lifts and drops the wooden beads from and into the lidless box; then an audio clip of thunder and rain...it was just simply too overdone for me. It would have been a million times more effective to do one of two simple things: perform a visual scape which alluded to the actions the two performers were attempting to mime, i.e. the simple use of the tiny shoes, the opening/closing of the tiny door; or a soundscape in darkness. Both permit the audience to use their imagination, and this makes the action — or audio — endearing and captivating. What is the point of suggesting or conveying the idea of thunder whilst simultaneously and literally producing it? If props are to be used in this way, one must consider their significance; if they are not a crucial element on which the entire performance's aesthetic or practicality pivots, they are absolutely unnecessary. It was decisions like these, repeated throughout the performance, that made it difficult to really engage with the material. Every two seconds, a joke was implanted, something 'went wrong', a prop was flown across the stage. The play was definitely lively and melodramatic, but not in an intriguing or useful way. I mentioned a tension between the two 'characters' at the beginning of the performance. In this play, there were continuous slapstick tensions between the characters that seemed to come from nowhere, particularly during transitions — which, again, were very cluttered and uneasy on the eye, not to mention rather bipartite with the repeated action of lifting a leg in a readied, hero-like stance before the music starts and the transition begins. From the very beginning where a tension arises from the placement of the serving cart and from one 'character''s use of hands to mimic the mouths of people talking on the audio clip, to moments in transitions where Holmes (Jasmine Atkins-Smart) and Dr Watson are scrambling over props; all seemed too mismatched. One minute, Dr Watson enthuses Holmes and the two have reached a joint understanding; and the next, they're fighting over a piece of paper and grunting at one another in a display of uneasy melodrama. This confusion was also reflected in the plot itself. The major difficulty for me as an audience member and, judging by their restlessness and the looks on their faces, for other audience members too, was transitioning from the 'comedy' of the former part of the play to the 'seriousness' of the latter part where Moriarty has captured Dr Watson. Suddenly, everything is severe; there are no jokes or melodramatic tendencies, and this felt off-putting, almost — and not in a well-thought-out and dramatic way. Then, the two seductively bite into a sausage, and a poorly crafted jacket with 'dynamite' strapped to it is launched at Dr Watson. It was hard to take this scene seriously, as per all the scenes, but it was so clear that this plot development aimed, for some reason, towards a more dramatic stance, which contrasted uncomfortably with the performance's style up to that moment. It was also difficult to keep up with the plot due to the sheer multitude of 'plot twists'. Towards the latter half of the play, a plot twist arose in practically every scene, and, having not been permitted to really engage with the material in the first place, these plot twists had little to no effect — other than confusing me. Then, there was a sense of metatheatre (that the production has prided itself on) caused by the revelation that certain characters had pretended to be other characters, where, in real life, they had multi-roled. Whilst this was quite comical, it made it incredibly difficult, especially with the last plot twist at the end, orchestrated by Dr Watson, to work out if this play wished to be comedic, serious or dramatic, or to laugh metatheatrically at itself. A sense of metatheatre was also reached in Holmes and Watsons's direct audience address when speaking of the 'link between knees and crime'. If the audience are included in this way, it should be a repeated element, crucial to the performance, and not just a one-off occurrence; if not, how does this fit in with the otherwise removed performance style. In short, the style was unbelievably confused. In fact, it claimed to be performed in a "Lecoq style". I can't begin to fathom where Lecoq's influences lie in this performance. No elements of this play were relatable to his pedagogy, ideology or theatrical practice at all. Only a mere homage to mimetic abstraction was present; nothing that screamed "Lecoq!" The comedy itself in this play was very overplayed and lacklustre, from the puns of 'tripping into the kitchen' likened to 'tripping' on drugs, to the overplay on props, to the slapstick deaths, tensions and mishaps. And this undeniably showed in many audience members who became visibly restless and daydreamy. As for characterisation, I have very little to say. It did feel that without the moustaches, skirts and other costume elements, it would have been more difficult to engage with the performers. I felt that the drawn moustaches and poor-quality props were an unbudging ode to a school performance as opposed to the craft of budding theatremakers. Whilst poor-quality or minimalist items in the theatre can, of course, enhance the world of a certain performance, here these just served as a reminder of the play's poor-quality theatrical decisions. All actors performed with energy, this is true, particularly Phillips who seemed to have a greater transformativity than the other two, if still rusty in places. Still, none were particularly astonishing, although I do feel the mixed style, writing and directorial decisions had a part to play in this. I will conclude with the writing. Whilst it was clear that the writer had certainly done an amount of research in writing this play, with particular terminologies and a peculiar lexical field, ordinary elements such as performance style, plot development and profound character identity were completely absent. It never felt for one moment as though a veritable story of Sherlock Holmes; rather, the extension of an exciting name attributed to a confused story about a babbling detective and his sneaky companion. The story was playful, yes, but not by any means in a beguiling and delightful way. “A performance with a confused and lacklustre style. Over-playful and unrefined.”

Job's a Good'Un is a one-woman show starring its very writer, Laura Taylor. Directed by theatre company Smol & Ginger's Rachel Lee, this play was performed at Camden People's Theatre. This play was clearly written by and, moreover, for someone with a knowledge of drama and its studies. I say this because jokes around this premise perforated its writing, and it was clear from studying the audience that the vast majority of them were, in fact, drama students. For this type of audience, who would focus less on content and more on technique, and excuse mishaps as part of the game, so to speak, I suppose the play did its job; for me, however, there were numerous elements I found to be rather unoriginal or over-concentrated, causing limitations on its versatility and multi-purpose. I will start with Taylor's performance. Whilst I commend her unfaltering energy, there were many moments that I felt took away from her characterisation, efficacy and overall engagement. For me, the overture, in which we see Taylor sat on the floor at her laptop, felt very calm and intimate and low-energy (not in a bad way). But, as soon as the action began, she became over-animated and energetic, her posture immediately changing, her actions bigger and precise. This sudden contrast was off-putting, almost as if she was preparing to perform, as opposed to having the momentum of the play finding its own way to the stage. Little moments like these, though very little, indeed, take away from the cogency of a performance. This was met with slip-ups of lines which, in turn, took its toll on Laura's chosen accent when coming back into action, and small hiccups and mishaps such as dropping the broom, dropping the iPod, etc. Whilst these hiccups are sometimes inevitable, it is the recovery that is key. Drawing attention to these hiccups is sometimes needed, as it was with the incident of the broom. And, for the broom, Taylor's cheekiness in reposing it against the wall was funny. However, for the iPod, Taylor chose to continue dancing, but only for a matter of seconds. When it is clear that her character, Laura, is no longer listening to music, it draws too much attention to itself to continue to dance. Whilst this would be more understandable if the dance was a crucial, long part of the scene, to only have to dance for two seconds more would render the dance pointless to continue. So, it would have been better to simply leave the iPod and continue to the next scene. Other moments where Taylor would laugh along with the audience members, or smile, coming out of her character, also took away from her performance, as well as an overuse of music and dance. Whilst Taylor performed scenes with high energy, elements within them and transitions between them caused the momentum of the play to slow down. This was somewhat to do with the constant water-breaks between scenes, but also to do with the dramatic techniques used. This performance was high on mimesis, and (lengthy) scenes dedicated entirely to miming job-related actions became very tiresome very quickly. For example, Laura explains a job wherein she would perform three tasks, including bar-tending and coat-hanging. The climax of these repeated mimetic actions, each designated its own location on the stage, was very cliché and overused throughout the performance. The focus on tasks and her failure to or success in performing them was definitely the main focal point of the performance, as the synopsis said it would be. However, I felt that the constant rotation around tasks and jobs made it difficult to truly understand Laura's character, and there hence seemed to be no real character development, only sudden impulses used to simply aid us along onto the next tasks she would perform. I felt either the focus needed to be completely on these jobs, removing Laura as a "character" and having her more as a "representer" of these ordinary job-related tasks, or on Laura's persona with the jobs as a catalyst for our understanding of it. For example, the idea of one of Laura's employers talking to her parents was an effective way to allude to Laura's personality. More moments like these would have made the performance more dynamic. Furthermore, this type of low-energy performance style in comparison with the quick-paced, unoriginal mime was much more successful for this play, for this reason. I felt also that the effectiveness of these actions was perhaps lost in their introduction. Rather than letting the mimesis speak for itself — as it did in a moment towards the beginning of the performance where Laura puts the newspapers she should be putting under people's doors in the bin — Taylor chose to introduce and explain every action before performing it. This, combined with the repetitiveness and unoriginality of the actions, lessened their enjoyability. To conclude, I would say that this performance had an interesting premise in wanting to construct a semi-autobiographical world full of daily tasks to get by in life financially. However, the concept of having this linked with the underdeveloped character of Laura took away from the efficacy of the performance. The character of Laura remained unnecessary and underdeveloped because it was used as a catalyst for the narrative of the jobs, whereas this order, if wanting to use character, should have been reversed. Whilst there were certainly humorous moments, and effective moments like the employer's conversation and the newspaper-binning, most actions were too overused and under-creative. “A piece with an interesting but underdeveloped premise.”

This review will consider Victory Day, performed at The Lion and Unicorn Theatre. I will start with characterisation. With the slight exception of John Pearson (playing Misha) and Seb Collinson (playing Chris), all performers were very lacking in energy, naturalism and overall performance. Nothing seemed to be performed realistically; everything seemed forced and wooden, as though a rehearsal as opposed to a performance. This was most inarguably a problem for Vanessa Hall (playing Sam), but real emotion was barely captured by any performer, except, really, by Pearson. This performer, whilst wooden in many places, retained humour, energy and credibility sporadically throughout the play. It is also worth noting Sasha Dulerayn's role as Victor Shurkov: his put-on accent was very inconsistent throughout the video, and, in general, it was just a very odd choice of character, although somewhat endearing towards the end. The fact that he was supposedly Russian just did not feel as though enough to settle him into the context of this play. Whilst having what one might consider a minor part in this production, Pfister seemed to uphold the highest stature and continuity. Every movement was true to that of a soldier, and whilst there were moments where posture or visual direction were lost, overall, a clear staple of character was demonstrated. The presence of Pfister is something I would like to elaborate on. I felt that if the play had been longer, or, rather, had given into moments where his presence was really drawn attention to, Pfister's constant being on stage would have been more effective. It felt as though he was simply a costumed stagehand as opposed to someone having a purposeful role, and this could have been averted by injecting moments of tension, drawing more attention to his presence, throughout the play. I would like to have seen him sitting within the scene, or facing the audience, somewhere really obvious and prominent, to really protrude into the audience's periphery and highlight the intimidating theme of war more poignantly. Also worth noting was the scene change before the 'dance' — rather, a series of movements — in the penultimate scene of the play: I found his weaving through the characters to clear chairs during the scene to be distracting and just a clumsy idea. Although basic, even a simple puppeteering of the other characters by him, leading them to clear the stage themselves in the same fashion he had been clearing it, and then into the dance, would have been better. His low-lit presence in the corner of the room just didn't feel as effective to me as it could have done. In fact, it seemed a very inane and indecisive element of the performance. The 'dance' itself was another thing I had an issue with. Some performers started with small gestures that built into frenetic dance moves; others, with full-body flailings from the off. It was a scene that felt highly unnecessary and random. The only relevance I could think of was linking it to the drug use in the preceding scenes, but this did not explain why Misha was involved in the dancing, seeing as he did not partake in that. Then, there's the over-poetic, melodramatic — yet, again, wooden — monologue by Juliette (Morgane Richard) that followed. This, along with practically every other scene in the play, felt so…out of place. The style was very confused, from technological to club-like to poetic to physical to (badly) realistic. Everything just seemed odd and unwilling to meld together as scenes. Then, there's another, extensive, monologue by Viktor Shurkov projected onto the screen. Compared to other scenes, this was by far the longest, and yet, there was not a lot to conclude with or take from it. The writing of this play felt very directionless and unnaturalistic, perhaps leading to the wooden acting style, and it seemed as though the play was attempting to tackle an enormous range of topics, from drugs to war to love to death to sex, and in such a sedulously short amount of time. It would have been better, I believe, to take one or, at most, a couple of these topics and really investigate them through one or, again, just a couple of theatrical modes. The topic of war seemed to be the most pertinent amongst these topics, leading to the characters' abrupt and seemingly-otherwise-impertinent demise, and so this topic would have been better to investigate more profoundly — perhaps this is where the soldier's presence would have been more effective. Random insertions of speeches from David Cameron just weren't enough to link the plot and narrative with aim. Whilst there was an abundance of humorous moments, there perhaps lacked some sincerity in treating the issues, both in performance style and plot. An especially pertinent example of this consists of Dulerayn's entrance as a drug dealer, referring to his being in a "fringe theatre" i.e. employing yet another theatrical mode, metatheatre. Did this scene really have to happen? What effect did it have? Did this drive the momentum of the plot or inhibit it? Why? These are questions I felt unanswered by any potential creative thought behind this decision. I overheard another spectator say at the end of the performance, “I don't know what I just watched.” And whilst I obviously cannot declare precisely what she meant by that, I can only say, I agree wholeheartedly with the objective statement as it stands alone. Then, on to set. I found the basic set of five stools to be effective in its simplicity. The huge white iPhone, used as a screen onto which images were projected, was also somewhat effective, particularly in the farm scenes. Though, was it necessary? Arguable. For example, the projection of the word 'enlisted': “Okay…why is that important?” I asked myself. And 'enlisted' was the only word to be displayed and then possessed not a single significance or relevance to the rest of the play. Why was it projected, then? Similarly, the image of a fallen tree and a cow. “Okay, the tree added a second of humour, but would the scene had survived without it? Yes. Would we have realised we were on a farm without the cow? Yes!” Every decision just felt as though lacking care and precision. Lastly, lighting. It is an extremely bad idea to interweave colour and a harsh white strobe. Not only is it painful for spectators, but the vision naturally blurs and we can't see anything. This happened a lot during this performance. Not only that, but it was discontinuous, causing even more of a strain on the eye. The white stroboscopic lighting on its own would have been enough for the desired effect. Why red lighting was inserted on top of this, I really do not know. "A very eclectic, confused performance, attempting to tackle a huge range of topics, proving weak and shambolic."

This witty one-woman show focuses on the life of Carolann, a menopausal introvert struggling to find her "inner bitch" whilst attempting, somewhat victoriously, sexual relations along the way. When I first entered the house, I was greeted by a stage that was bare apart from a jacket slumped over a chair and a microphone resting upon a stool. Over the low music playing for the audience, a mixture of soft folk and soul, I could hear an off-putting array of whispering from within the wings. I had a slight fear that this would be a rather rudimentary and low-energy monologue. Paula David (playing Carolann, having written this play) then entered, and my fears of dissatisfaction were met. She spoke in an unrealistic fashion, incongruously to natural patterns of speech, and her monologue seemed to jump nonlinearly from idea to idea, though I believe this latter was due to the writing. David started by introducing herself in the flashback setting of her BTEC Music solo performance in college. She remarked the various spectators she could remember, before singing into the microphone. She then performed a 'dialogue' between Carolann and her daughter. The shifts between these two characters were annoyingly subtle, though. As for all the characters she portrayed, David rather simply faced one way for Carolann and another for the character with whom Carolann was conversing. However, David would often mix up the turns, and the characters would suddenly be looking the wrong way. This was, in fact, a problem repeated sporadically throughout the play's entirety. For most of the performance, David faced Stage Left. I was sat to the very left of the audience and so could only see the back of her head for a good amount of the performance. Additionally, not only was she facing Stage Left but she was facing the wings of Stage Left, which meant that wherever anyone was sat, a slightly obscured profile view would be visible, not helped by the volume of her untied hair. The voices used were effective for the female characters she portrayed, but the males started to sound identical; on top of that, whereas the females each had a specific tick which quickly denoted their character for the audience, such as Carolann's daughter's twiddling of her hair, the male characters seemed to have nothing at all but that samey voice. Unfortunately, I must also draw attention to David's many line slip-ups. This took away from the humour quite drastically in places, replacing a quick, sharp and witty tongue with one which was tied and laden. So, this was my opinion for about the first third of the performance. However, I later came to believe that David simply needed some time to warm up. Her characterisations were rather thwarted by her somewhat low energy towards the beginning, but somehow, this energy began to gradually increase. This may have had something to do with the content of the play, which was busying with every line and becoming increasingly crass and crude in its sexual humour (in the most positive and relatable of ways); it may have permitted her to loosen up a bit, I feel. Whatever the reason, David became more and more endearing, lively and watchable. At first, I found Carolann's songs a tad wearisome. They seemed to have no relevance to me, but as the character of Carolann developed, along with David's portrayal of her, these songs seemed to represent public awkwardness or assumed inferiority, as if she was continuously launched back into the insecure mentality of performing her BTEC Music solo to her doubtful and discouraging classmates. The songs' subject matters changed accordingly with the narrative, making them more and more meaningful. They added a sense of personality and quirkiness to Carolann's character whilst alluding to a theme of social pressure. But whilst the majority of songs came directly from this flashback setting, it was when the songs surfaced organically from the narrative that they were most effective. For instance, her singing straight after having had sexual intercourse with "Mr Looksogood". Carolann becomes adorable and loveable in her social awkwardness. To launch us back into BTEC Music, a dim and diluted white wash would cover the stage, and David would reach for the microphone. This was simple and effective, regularly drawing the performance back to this dark area of Carolann's memory. Unfortunately, though, lighting was otherwise rather inefficacious throughout. Whilst music effectively brought us back to the solo setting, or amplified moments wherein Carolann felt 'bitchy' or saucy, lighting seemed to be used haphazardly. Rather primitively, a different lighting state was used for every scene, the only state having any pertinence to the play being that of the Bad Bitches club scene wherein the lighting becomes psychedelic, mimicking disco lights. Other than this, lighting seemed to be used rather unreflectively and unproductively. Moreover, the operation of the lights was also pretty poor in places; lights would often dim or come on before the current scene had ended and the following scene had begun. Yet, amongst the comedy, the wavering characterisation and the multi-roling lies a deep network of unspoken yet natural feminine topics which bring unnecessary social shame to women, particularly those middle-aged. The play pivots around the menopausal woman and how her relationships, both romantic and platonic as well as professional and familial, are affected simply by her age and its effects on the body. We are presented with not only a feminist voice which attacks the views of misogyny in adulterous relationships through Carolann's first boyfriend's affair, but also one which aims to popularise and naturalise what is shared and natural amongst women in a humbling yet stern way: vaginal drying and lubrication, masturbation, sweating, sexual desire and sexuality, etc. Not only does this play convey messages on the social view on the ageing female body but it also reflects social pressures within our postmodern popular culture, particularly amongst black females, to 'release your inner bitch'. It has certainly become second nature to feel entitled and or to feel the need to 'slay', as it were, to be accepted, respected or estimable. Carolann's timidity placed in this context demonstrates nicely the obscurity of this behaviour. The biographical quality of Paula David's writing, then, certainly aids the narrative in its likeability and relatability. I was, however, rather bemused when I learned that Paula David was the writer of this play as well as its performer. I just had the sense that somehow the expressivity and sense of the writing had been lost in the translation to performance. It was almost as if she did not understand her own writing, or, at least, that she could not emote successfully enough herself to represent her play in the optimal way. “A humorous performance with deeper undertones, if a little downplayed here and there.”

With a needle in one hand and a white cloth in another, Marcus Frewin-Ridley (playing Rupert) sits in one of four sections bordered by long strips of white tape converging Downstage Center. Seeming anxious and disturbed, he glances over at the body of a male covered by a shroud of white. This intriguing visual is the opening of The Men Who Made Frankenstein, written and directed by Simon Christopher and staged at the Etcetera Theatre. I will start this review by considering this play's dramatic text. The concept for this play is one that is creative and engaging. Whilst the common literary error to speak of Frankenstein's Monster as Frankenstein himself is made in this play's title (though, not in its synopsis), this allusion to Frankenstein causes a myriad of images to arise in the audience's mind, making a successful link between an intermingling of body parts and the creation of a monster. Taking characters out of their everyday environments and placing them in a confounding and mysterious purgatory is always a captivating thematic, making a good premise for this play. However, I will say that this premise was perhaps too weighted in performance. Most of the dialogue centred itself around the characters being trapped in this dystopia: What will they do to us? Who are they? Why are we here? And upon the fact that they had mostly all been hanged before their 'death'. Little was developed upon in terms of the characters themselves, however. Throughout the entire play, all we discover about Rupert, for example, is that he is Christian, from his quoting of the Bible, and Margaret (played by Kendall Turner) rather frustratingly brings a voice of relentless feminism and nothing else in the way in which she refers to men and her body in relation to them. I felt that this vast lack of character depth made for a uni-layered plot, although this did improve towards the end of the play. Furthermore, this lack of depth was highly pertinent to Edward's (Calvin Crawley) character whenever he masturbated in the corner of his cell. I felt that this was an explicit moment that would have been more effective as implicit. To have him talk of women to the women on stage in a vulgar and implicit way, detailing what he would do if he could, would be much more sinister and would better pull through the themes of sin and misogyny. This would have also been more effective for the audience when his penis was cut, for this would have made the audience revel in his pain, and then, as he grew sympathy for Rupert and showed his weaker, more vulnerable side, this would have allowed for a deeper empathy from the audience, heightening the play's sense of horror. However, as it stood, Edward's masturbation simply brought social awkwardness and lewd humour, having little dramatic effect. I also felt that certain aspects of the text were not fully understood by the actors. There were a few moments where actors would say a line that should clearly have been said in a different way. This was particular of Katie Clement (playing Modesty); for example, for the moment when Modesty explains to Edward that the cryptic letter they have received is written in longhand and that she had taught this to some children she had been looking after when she was 'alive', Clement performed acerbically, hissing her lines at Crawley. I felt this should have been more of a startled and bewildered response as she read the letter to herself, frustrated with Edward's cocky annoyances, as opposed to a comeback. Other suchlike moments took away from the true meaning of the text, I thought. This brings me on to characterisation. The first thing that strikes me when considering characterisation is the decision to have Rupert crawling on all fours around the stage. Whilst I felt this to be somewhat necessary — what reason would he have to stand in his cell? — and rather symbolic of the fact that his arms and legs would soon be amputated, it was the animalistic quality of this crawling that did not sit well with me. Perhaps this was to show that the time he had endured alone, full of immense anxiety, had made him as though a wild animal, but I do not think this would be a powerful enough reason. As for Calvin Crawley, though a bit too shouty in places, I felt that he was the most refined character out of the four, though this could have certainly been down to the writing's incessant focus upon his character. I did feel that there was a lack of realism, especially towards the end where Edward becomes more sympathetic towards the other prisoners, but he did perform with adequate energy. Kendall Turner, however, I felt to be much too bi-layered in her performance. Either she was shouty or paranoid — both in a rather plastic way. There was a set rhythm she had chosen to perform her character in which made her performance seem unrealistic and forced. She was certainly the most physical of the cast, but I do not believe that this was to her favour. Lastly, Katie Clement. As I mentioned before, there were moments particular to Clement's performance where I found the writing to be misinterpreted. Clement seemed at points to not be sure of what she was saying — or she was too sure and, in fact, erroneous. Other than this, an average performance. I have already mentioned the set in the introduction to this review: long white tapes dividing the stage into four equal triangles, their points converging Downstage Center. Whilst I felt that this was an efficient use of space and angularity, I was a tad confused by the topography of the cells that these represented. Oftentimes, characters switched cells without any acknowledgement of or confusion about this, which leads me to wonder if these changes were not changes of cells but changes of points of view for the audience. The borders of each cell also seemed completely ignored in transitions where Frankenstein (Christopher Mawson) entered the stage. Characters were able to see each other and physically interact with one another, perhaps meaning that these cells were barred, but this was unclear. In short, an efficient visual but unrefined in its explanation. In regards to costume, the white shrouds — and, at some points, lack of costume altogether — effectively forced the audience to consider the bodies of the characters, making amputations and operations more effective. The black sleeves used for Rupert's arm amputations were highly effective in inspiring the belief that they had been removed — though he did calmly walk back onto the stage, with amputated legs — but I would note that the bandages should have met with the sleeve, otherwise it's an open wound and the bandages are meaningless. The bloody material on Modesty's abdomen was also effective, alluding to a botch-job surgery in its inelaborateness. There is not much to say about lighting (operated by Sam Gilham, who also operated sound). It was rather basic — not in a negative way — with natural lighting throughout and blackouts and red washes for transitions. Music (produced by Gareth Rhys Prior) and sound, on the other hand, were used quite prolifically. The Researcher's (Nicole van Niekerk) voiceover at the beginning of the play set the period and feel of the piece very well. However, I did feel that it rapidly lost its effect towards the end due to its repetitiveness. Also, I will add that van Niekerk seemed to stumble on her words, and unedited mouth squelching sounds throughout were very off-putting. I cannot say if these were both intended, although I will say that these should be considered. The repeated sound of gas also worked well. The music successfully created tension and suspense, making use of techno drones and syncopations, and the change of music, from normal scene-change transitions to transitions in which Frankenstein entered the stage to reap from the four bodies, made for a successful change in mood. I have spoken of transitions quite a lot in this review, and so I feel it is important to detail their impact further. During transitions, it was unclear if we were seeing the characters in their cells in real-time or if we were seeing the actors preparing for the next scene. The exit sign above the door in the theatre space and the bleached white of the shrouds meant that the actors were incredibly visible during blackouts. Whilst one cannot help certain features of the performance space, it is important to note the effect they will have on the performance, and I feel that, to some extent, this was done. However, as the performers are made so visible during these transitions, it is important that they have particular things to do during them. This could have been a minimal physical movement depicting the suffering of the characters or differentiated actions that show the characters' behaviours in their cells. There were also a few moments when the characters were gassed that actors performed becoming unconscious very drastically and unrealistically, sharply falling to the ground, but this was infrequent, and these moments were otherwise effective. The last thing I will say about transitions is that they were unbelievably slow and lengthy at times where they need not have been. This decelerated the momentum of the performance, which is almost never a good thing. Lacking some realism in places, this performance made otherwise for a very good piece of theatre with a strong premise and pragmatic stage design. I would note, however, that this play's synopsis claims that the play is a dissection of the ethics of the ownership of the human body after death; this I completely disagree with. “A gory and intriguing play, if in need of certain ameliorations.”

"High on energy, low on iambic pentameter" is definitely an apt summary for Lumo Company and Full Sail Productions Ltd.'s MacBETTI, taking to the London and Brighton Fringe. This review is of the Brighton performance at the Marlborough Theatre. Heidi Niemi's humorous and energised performance paired well with one-liners and melodrama to encompass a different take on William Shakespeare's Macbeth. Her show possessed a clear focus on visual imagery and mime – from using an asthma pump, to beheading a jacket, symbolic of Macbeth – and this was, for the most part, effective and comical. Niemi's characterisations were funny and, mostly, clear. She had made a gestural base, such as a lifted eyebrow, the taking of the asthma pump, etc., to create an easy portrait for the audience – but, perhaps maybe too easy? There were, however, moments in quick changes where characters were unclear or lost, and diction was sometimes terrible, further clouding this. Also, particular choices in characterisations were confusing...for example, why she had chosen to perform one of The Witches as a swearing rapper complete with knuckle dusters and a shiny cap. Her mime, though, was pleasing and satisfying. Effective. And her cross-dressing (as well as that of the Prompter (Gus Kennedy Jacob), the character of whom I will address later) made a tingling signal to a common Shakespearean practice. As for her set – a frame with a closed curtain, Upstage Centre; a microphone, speaker and computer setup, Downstage Right – it was minimal and somewhat unflattering, but fed well into the allusiveness of her performance. The curtain, for example, enabled an allusion to a puppet show, burlesque, etc. Niemi's performance space covered the stage; just outside, through the exit (where she disappeared at one point); and the audience space. And this leads me on to my next point of focus: audience participation. Whilst Brighton audiences tend to like audience participation and so this kept the interest up and the energy flowing, I couldn't help but feel the audience participation to be highly unnecessary. Towards the end of the play, audience members are given a huge bulk of stemmed leaves to share around, and towards the beginning of the play, I myself was given a teddy bear to hold (symbolic of Macduff's Son). Whilst the handover of the teddy bear was comical, the leaves were questionable, and both objects possessed an awkward stasis in the audience once the scene was complete. Also towards the beginning, when Niemi enters as Lady Macbeth, she presents to an audience member a piece of text to be read aloud. This seemed extremely pointless to me and took away, I thought, from the politics of her performance. The politics was ineffably diluted. As Niemi herself states boldly in rhyme at the beginning of the performance, MacBETTI is supposed to, almost, showcase a woman's talent in being able to perform an array of characters not available for women in theatre. It is presented as a feminist approach to convey how she is just as able to perform these characters as is a man. Why would she, then, give this piece of text to a male audience member to read? Furthermore, we have the character of the Prompter. The very necessary presence of this – again, male – character confounded me greatly. When at first only speaking stage directions, "Scene [Number]", "Enter [Character]", etc., this was a clever echo to the writings of a man being performed by a woman. Similarly, when Jacob "forgets" his lines, this is a clever allusion to the fallibility of the male performer. However, when her mime became dependent on sound effects he made in the microphone, or when he was given segments of the show all to himself whilst Niemi remained offstage or altogether out of the room, his significance became a blur. It felt as if his character undermined the feminist messages of the play. If she could do all of these characters alone, as a woman, why didn't she? Couldn't she have done the sound effects herself, mimed the other characters as she did elsewhere in the show? Or, moreover, why wasn't the Prompter a woman? "One woman. All the roles. A quest for total power", and yet, she didn't seem very powerful at all. Whilst some moments felt very effective and dramatic, such as a dark stage and a torchlit figure (The Witches) skulking into the scene from behind the curtain, others felt ridiculous: the first appearance of The Witches where Niemi covers herself in a sheet and bobs up and down with flailing arms. Whilst entertaining for the first few minutes, this slowly became an infantile emblem. The show was, indeed, very prop-heavy, which was not necessarily a bad thing at all, but it is worth considering if this stole too much from her ability to physicalise these characters and emote the narrative alone. “Comical yet clouded.”

Wonderfully written by D C Moore and performed at the National Theatre, Common captures beautifully the essence of another world. From costume, designed by Richard Hudson, to the actors' trained dialects, honed in by Charmian Hoare, this play produced from every angle an ambient 19th Century. What is first most notable is the music in this performance. A recurrent, tribal-like rhythm throughout the play thematised the action well, only changing towards the end when a new main event, so to speak, had taken place. This was matched with a satisfying layer of vocals from the actors. Whilst some vocals were, indeed, off at points, the vast majority of these aided the atmosphere the music created greatly. What is next notable is the visual aspect of the performance. As I mentioned in my introduction, the costume was utterly sublime, well-tailored and unfalteringly reminiscent of the period. But, it also held a sense of symbolism. For example, the crow feathers in Mary (Anne-Marie Duff)'s hat, wonderfully implicative of her mysticality and performed clairvoyance. This leads me on to the function of the crows themselves. Scattered throughout the play were puppets made by Laura Cubitt. These added a comical and delightful element to the performance. However, in terms of set design, I would note that the crows suspended from the ceiling in the beginning of the performance were quite tacky, with wires on show. This, of course, did not affect the rest of the performance but was not a pleasing sight to walk in to. The overall set was very minimal, but other effects such as fire, trap doors and the overall performance of the actors kept this from being disruptive. Whilst the idea of having holes and earth on stage was an efficacious one, I felt its execution was ineffective in places. For example, in the Second Act where Mary rises from below the ground. As she simply tore herself from a brown fabric and came out completely clean, the result was messy and took away from the illusion of the performance. As for lighting and sound, the thunderstorm in the Second Act was most successful. It is so easy to simply hose the stage from above and capture rain, and this is not what the effect in Common. A beautiful image of clouds, and the sounds of thunder, paired with a dimly-lit stage, enabled the mind to wander and imagination to run. This was the same for the fire in the Second Act. The only negative thing I have to say about lighting refers to the use of spotlights. These were largely used to illuminate Mary when she delivered monologues and asides. However, there were moments throughout the First Act when Mary delivered her asides without a spotlight, with other characters present on stage. As the spotlights were not consistent, and Duff did not approach the front of the stage to talk to the audience herself, it was sometimes unclear as to whether she was conversing with the other characters or, indeed, talking to us. On to characterisation, which was, for the most part, strong and believable. It must be said that I favoured Lois Chimimba's characterisation greatly, both as Young Hannah and as Eggy Tom; however, her death as the latter character was too energetic and unrealistic. Death scenes seem to be the hardest to perform for actors, and this was true of all deaths in this performance, barring that of Laura (Cush Jumbo). Neither underperformed nor exaggerated, as the other deaths were, Jumbo's death scene was highly effective and commendable. Next, the stage-fighting between the Heron (Trevor Fox) and the Harvest King (John Dagleish). Awkward. Punches were clearly missed and were paired with awkward utterances of pain and anger which need not have been made. I felt it would have been more effective to have had this fight in silence, covered by the music and, perhaps, the deep beat of a drum or a soft scrape of a cymbal - something more dramatic than pitiful winces (and, of course, it would have been more effective to have made the punches...seem like punches). My prayers were answered, however, in a later fight in the Second Act, where the Ensemble ran towards the Lord (Tim McMullan)'s men in gripping slow-motion. I found this moment most entrancing, especially with the clever 'resurrection' of the dead characters to represent more people coming to fight. Though I have been harsh in these points of focus, I must ingeminate that the characterisation was very good and illusive. It was just perhaps in the odd overdramatic moment where the illusion was lost. Whilst the odd trip up in intonation and delivery did arise, the dialect, too, was mastered well by all actors. “Otherworldly and entrancing.” Photography property of National Theatre London. Credit: Johan Persson.

A modern story of love, doubt, obsession and art, Cover My Tracks, directed by Max Webster and performed at the Old Vic Theatre, is an outstanding and unmissable piece of contemporary theatre. This is truly one of the best performances I have seen for a very long time. Written beautifully by David Greig, Cover My Tracks focuses on the disappearance of rock band songwriter Frank (Charlie Fink) and, moreover, its effect on the protagonist, Sarah (Jade Anouka). Whilst somewhat unnaturalistic in places in performance, Greig's language is expressive, allusive and visceral, encapsulated well by the incredible performance by Anouka. This writing is paired efficaciously with the equally evocative — and sometimes provocative — lyrics to the songs written by Charlie Fink played throughout. I shall start with music by saying that these songs had character and personality, sweet, romantic, lost and comical. Whilst, I must admit, there was a pinch of vocals that were out of key, Fink seldom faltered in his vocal performance. His voice was mellifluous and melodic and carried the music's personality. Any potential repetitiveness of his playing the guitar was alleviated by synthesised strings, and I felt this was a careful and beneficial decision. Though the music operated within a clear genre, I could not help but feel it was at times samey, using the same chord progressions, some songs sounding similar to their precedent, but this was not too much of an issue. This play has been likened to gig theatre, and I can see where this is coming from. The very first scene, Fink enters, guitar in hands and sits upon a chair behind a readied microphone. The audience hesitantly applauded — a clear indication that the room could sense a different type of set-up from the usual play. And this sense mainly came from the staging: a raised platform, and floor lights and a chord of light bulbs lying on the floor in front. And when Fink was left alone on stage, his solitude and personal lyrics created an essence of intimacy, one which could, indeed, be found at a gig. Moreover, I felt that these moments also served as a clever interlude between 'scenes', creating a sense of the passing of time for Sarah as well as relieving the audience of a demanding, physical and energetic narrative. This brings me on to characterisation. Anouka's performance was astounding. She managed to capture a vast range of emotions, seamlessly flowing between each one without awkward over-performance — a trap so easy for actors to fall into. Whilst her portrayal of anger was perhaps a bit too shouty sometimes, her transformation from one character to another was captivating, humorous and charming. The odd slip-up where one of her caricatures' voices would merge with her true character's, but this was rare. Her costume - blue dungarees, boots - conjured a childlike innocence, capturing her ponderous, obliging and sweet personality. It also gave her a sense of playfulness, complementing her gestures of climbing, dancing, and intensifying her moments of depression, lying on the edge of the stage, curled up in a ball. As for Frank's character, I felt that a real consideration of his presence was lacking quite a bit. As it stood, Frank was constantly on stage, sometimes looking at Sarah whilst she spoke to him; other times, looking away. And as he spoke he would make miniature expressions. I felt that it would have been more effective to stick with either looking or not looking at Sarah, emoting fully or not at all. I felt that the ambiguity of his being dead or alive could have been played with more, Having him silhouetted, facing away, or unlit and re-lit in specific moments would have served the nature of his elusiveness more. In other words, his presence came across as confused and ineffective. He needed either to have been presented on stage as an emotionless voice, speaking fragments from past conversations, or as a detailed moving image pulled from her memory. Additionally, as for his costume, I felt that a suit was not too reminiscent of a rock singer...the idea of their lack of interaction and static co-existence on stage, however, I felt, was most effective. As for visuals, props were kept to a serious minimum in this performance, which complemented Anouka's energy, and lighting (designed by Lee Curran) served as another reminder of that "gig" feel: cold blues and sharp whites. I thought the lighting at the end of the performance was particularly effective. The blues disappeared, representing a closure that had come to be for Sarah, and we were left with a natural wash. And when she took back to the guitar, the blue tints returned as though the memories of her performances were coming back to her. Very effective. Overall, I felt that this was a marvellous performance. Jade Anouka's characterisation of Sarah was incredible. The writing of both the play itself and the music was visual and transporting. The only downers were the bipartite pattern that this play fell into — monologues from Anouka, and solos from Fink and the (non-)presence of Frank. A must-see, I believe! "Utterly captivating!"

Isabella Nefar lies on stage as Salomé, her legs bent to her chest, her body suffocated by a translucent-white sheet. Accompanying this image, a drone of chimes and bells. This was the first image of a visceral and ritualistic Salomé, written and directed by Yaël Farber and performed at the National Theatre in London. I must first commend Lubana al Quntar and Yasmin Levy for their exceptional vocals. Not only did their magnificent voices help to initiate and maintain the play's transportation into the Middle East, but they also significantly intensified the drama of the play as well. This paired effectively with the dramatic droning and drumming of music (composed by Adam Cork), and with the use of spoken Hebrew throughout the play (most used by Ramzi Choukair, playing Iokanaan, and translated in large text on a screen at the back of the stage), which both contextualised and catalysed the action. Similar to the impressive vocals of the Women of Song is the physicality of Theo TJ Lowe playing Yeshua. Watching him skulk, slide, slither and dance around the stage like a mystical, malevolent Arabian merchant was completely mesmerising. Every part of his body locked into place for this role, and this was highly commendable. This brings me on to the visual elements of this performance which were very gripping, especially in regards to staging. It is always satisfying to see weather on stage. In this play, downpours of rain and sand added an alluring quality whilst effectively communicating Salomé's identity as a sort of totality, a force, a figuration of a nameless entity. What was most interesting, however, was the fragmentation of the narrative, not only in the writing but on stage as well. Having Nameless (Olwen Fouéré) constantly onlooking and sometimes even mirroring the action gave the play a very narrative-based, nostalgic and educative feel, linking us to the biblical aspects of the story. This was even more effective in regards to the rest of the staging. Especially towards the beginning, scenes tended to be scattered around the stage, and combined with a constant rotation of the stage, this gave the play – and plot – a sense of motion, causing the eye to dart across the action frequently whilst further alluding to the rotation of the world and Salome's relation to its progression. Furthermore, the use of sand added an efficacious texture to the performance,. Completely scattered across the stage, it caused a fine dust to puff and spit from every object and dress. Its most effective uses, however, came from the spilling of Iokanaan's blood which was represented by red sand falling from Nameless's fist, and Salomé's self- cleansing ritual using sand after her body having been sullied by the touch of Herod (Paul Chahidi). These moments were clever and fruitful. Other moments, however, were perhaps unimaginative. For example, there was a repetitive use of freeze-frames, slow motion and, what I can only describe as, a basic physical theatre (this involved Salomé being pulled by the ensemble from side to side by her arms – I found this very displeasing and corny...and this happened twice). Additionally, forming the majority of the dialogue in the play was a poor use of stichomythia to build a dramatic tension. This was majorly overused and became predictable and over-dramatic towards the latter part of the play. Along with moments that worked and moments that did not, there were a few moments that almost worked, or, rather, seemed as though they had the potential to. An example of this would be towards the end of the performance where Nefar stands high, holding two of several enormous drapes, representative of the Dead Sea. The notion of her possessing and controlling this sea serves as a very powerful and poignant image; however, I felt that it was executed very poorly. Salomé runs on the spot in an infantile manner, her arms flailing around, causing the drapes to wade through the air. Whilst the movement of the drapes had high visceral as well as sonic qualities, Salomé's movements juxtaposed this greatly and ruined the image for me. As for characterisation, all performers were good and collectively subscribed to an identical performance style. I felt that their performance would have been more gripping, though, without the overused stichomythia I mentioned earlier. I would like to draw attention to the physical demands of this performance. These include those from simulating drowning, to submitting one's face to a downpour of water and sand, to being completely unclothed on stage. These exertions are commendable and admirable and prove for captivating theatre. These moments were hence points of high interest and awe. Yaël Farber has made some innovative changes to the original play. And most of all, I commend the refreshing take on the Dance of the Seven Veils which Farber portrays as a delicate and allegorical moment of poignancy, as opposed to how it is usually conveyed: striptease-like and lustful. However, she did claim in an interview with the National Theatre that her interest was "to place her back in the centre of her own story", where she has always been a minor element of other figures' stories. I do not feel this was achieved. I think the fragmented nature of the script, the silence of Salomé herself and the high focus on the ill-intentions of lascivious and belligerent men throughout took away from Salomé quite considerably. "Visually astounding, but unpolished in places." Photography property of National Theatre London. Credit: Johan Persson.

This review will consider Generation Arts's The Happy Theory at the Yard Theatre in London, directed by Ali Godfrey. I will first start by saying that this performance most certainly encapsulated the essences of a range of emotions, from awkwardness, to sadness, to frustration, to happiness. And I most certainly left the venue feeling elated. This performance successfully interrogated what it is to be happy. Characterisation was good all round, and an especially good performance came from Robert O'Reilly, Kyrae Patterson, and Helder Fernandes. In some places, characterisations were perhaps hyperactive from the entire cast, and whilst the characters' dialect represented the average argot of modern London youth, a lot of dialogue came across as staged or wooden, as opposed to naturalistic. In terms of acting style, I found this to be quite confused. This performance had a stylised beginning preceding a realistic style of acting, interlaced with moments of dance or physical theatre. Whilst the latter of these three aided in fastening the momentum of the performance, I couldn't help but find it unnecessary and unrelated. Whilst the plot was mirrored in some dances, and whilst the repeated slow motion lifting of chairs above the head was potentially evocative of education/systematisation and its relationship with euphoria and personal/professional development, I felt this was perhaps a bit too much of a stretch. Furthermore, mixing the mimic visuals of dance with actual props also seemed somewhat misguided, and little things, such as empty phone cases for phones, and writing pads that were empty, took away from the possible illusions of the piece. However, in areas, the physical aspects of the performance did, of course, serve the action effectively: a bustling ensemble bumping into Denise (Adrienne Bailey), a flippant and hostile mass at prom. As for the stylised beginning, whilst very comical and endearing, this seemed to have no correlation with the rest of the performance at all, and these things caused the style of the performance to sit uneasily with me. As for costume, this was well reminiscent of modern youth and served the piece well. Lighting complemented the change of styles effectively, but spots could have been sharper in the beginning section and more focused towards the middle in dialogues between Andrew (Zachary Spooner) and Frank (Ike Nwachukwu). As for sound, the use of voice recordings really helped to contextualise and narrate the performance. I found the voices from different age groups was efficacious and made the message of the piece more poignant. The choice of sound along with that of music also helped to anchor the series of dances and movements and situate them well within the imagined space. And finally, for set, the various square patches of vibrant colours alluded effectively to the emotions and sentiments that we so often, as people, attribute to them. The goings-on within the wings could have been better hidden, though. The realistic side of the performance was gripping. There was a refreshing balance of comedy and seriousness, and all performers had honed in their characters very well, giving them set traits and personae. When it comes to the ideas behind the realism, however, the plot could have been more polished. I felt the setting of a two-teacher school environment paired with three main areas of focus (i.e. popularity, technology and cancer) were quite go-to and underdeveloped. Perhaps it would have been worthwhile to take just one of these areas of focus and interrogate it more profoundly. This would have perhaps opened doors to a more playful performance style wherein a theme of happiness could have been profoundly explored using a wider array of performing methods. This was, however, a very enjoyable piece of theatre, and I commend all of the cast members for a deserving performance. Generation Arts is most certainly making theatre with great potential and direction for young theatre-makers and performers. “A versatile performance, though misguided in places.”

This review will consider the new adaptation of Woyzeck, written by Jack Thorne, directed by Joe Murphy, and performed on the stage of the Old Vic Theatre. The role of Woyzeck was played by understudy Theo Solomon on the night I saw this performance. The first most notable aspect of this performance was by far its aesthetics and atmospherics: lighting, music and set design. As for set, the moving grey panels constituted a versatile and ambient feature of the performance. Its geometric movements related effectively to the military elements of the narrative, and its orange illumination when Woyzeck shows Marie the city lights of the Occupied Nation proved its versatility to not only possess a satisfying visual quality but also to be a subtle homage to the Berlin Wall. The only thing I would say was ineffective about these panels were the blood and guts that slowly started to fester within them throughout the second act. I found this highly excessive. Not only did it look tacky, but it seemed to have no reason to be, other than to work a (fallible) shock factor. The lighting was sharp, creating a painful glare, which added a sensory texture to the performance, and a pleasing dark and eerie mist Upstage towards the latter part of the play. The silhouettes of Woyzeck’s Mother produced by it were also very effective. As for music, though, I found these to be lacking, especially in the First Act. The music was very repetitive and monotonous and was used much too frequently in transitions between smaller scenes which it need not have coincided with. Perhaps the monotony was to reflect Woyzeck’s taxing and drumming mental illness, but, for me, it would have been more effective to start with a more peaceful style of music and build to a harsh cacophony by slowly integrating the drones and suchlike. This leads me on to the portrayal of Woyzeck’s mentality. This seemed to have no growth within the narrative, and this was mainly down to Thorne’s adaptation of the original text by Büchner. Where Büchner's original text is so engaging is in its ambiguity in dealing with Woyzeck's mental illness: we understand he is unstable but feel sorry for him; we question if events are real; we feel the world is against him but that he has somewhat created his own problems; and, most of all, we sense Woyzeck's mental state getting worse. In Thorne's version, however, Woyzeck's mental state seems to have no real progression, and the focus seems to be on other characters and their stories as opposed to on Woyzeck himself. For example, the character of Andrews (Andres in the original) has a very large part in this version, whereas his role was much smaller — and his existence, dubious — in the original. What's more, the character of the Drum-Major was only alluded to once in this version and was otherwise completely omitted from the plot. This character accelerated Woyzeck's jealousy and instability in the original, and I felt this was a surprising decision from Thorne. These alterations of the plot took away from Woyzeck's personal narrative for me, but perhaps the most disappointing change came about in the absence of the peas. In this version, Woyzeck is given pills by the doctor. More realistic, yes; but the peas is what gives Woyzeck its odd character, and to replace them with pills which would make him go insane was a very lacklustre and go-to decision. I found the visual representation of his mental degradation to be very crude and unoriginal in places, the worst being the scene with the Omo Washing Powder in which the ensemble walks towards Woyzeck, Downstage Centre, like soulless robots, speaking ominously and ghost-like. I felt this was very poor and unimaginative. One particular thing I did like about this scene, however, was the blood trickling from the Captain's leg. Another successful moment came in the middle of the Second Act where Andrews (Ben Batt) and Maggie (Nancy Carroll) were engaging in sexual intercourse. Having Maggie go under the sheets and return as Marie (Sarah Greene) was very effective. These moments confused our experience of Woyzeck's reality and imagination, and subtle, suspicious elements like these would have been much more haunting and effective than dramatic drones and ominous, ghostly characters. I did enjoy seeing Young Woyzeck sprint around the stage, his Mother's silhouette dimly outlined Upstage, as this captured fragments of Woyzeck's memory. I found this was effective. However, when these moments were overused, having characters continuously run on and off stage, one after the other, it quickly lost its effect. This was a very crude and literal portrayal of thoughts running through Woyzeck's mind, and I found it was very repetitive and predictable. Similarly, towards the end of the play, when Woyzeck lies upon the ground, and, one by one, each character enters, says something 'dramatic' to him, and leaves — boring and lacklustre. The stage fighting I thought was awkward and unrealistic, mainly on Solomon's behalf, and the decision to have Woyzeck break the fourth wall in a monologue directed to the audience, looming over his child's [visibly empty] crib, I felt was unnecessary. I would have much preferred it be to directed to the baby — and to have seen, at least, the outline of a baby in the crib.... A more imaginative approach resides in a scene wherein the Doctor (Darrell D'Silva) speaks in German, abrasive and domineering. This was a very effective way to stupefy the audience whilst simultaneously displaying Woyzeck's high confusion. Even the way Silva handled the fake cat in this scene gave it the impression of being real, which I commend. When this German speech was used again in another scene, however, the effect was lost. Perhaps the most powerful moment, however, was the choice to have Carroll as Maggie/Woyzeck's Mother breastfeed Woyzeck. This was a perverse, almost Artaudian moment of high significance, forcing the idea of a natural and innocent act of provision from a mother's breast to fuse with that of sexual, self-depreciative acts. The vocal confusion of the gender of Woyzeck and Marie's child was also efficacious and complemented the hesitancy intended for the audience. In terms of characterisation, there were certainly some good performances…and some very bad ones. Carroll tackled and distinguished the characters of Maggie and Woyzeck's Mother very well, and this decision to have Maggie, a whore, mirror Woyzeck's Mother was a very clever and effective one. The Captain (Stefan Rhodri), however, I cannot say the same for. Rhodri spoke his lines quickly and nigh-on emotionlessly, leaving no space for naturalistic pauses or to recognise Woyzeck's responses before criticising them; although, this did improve as the play progressed. I could understand why this would be a conscious decision: to show the Captain's egotism, authority and status, but it was executed poorly. Then, we have Woyzeck reacting to the Captain. As throughout the entire production, there was little to no change in Solomon's characterisation. Solomon's changes from frustration to submission to sadness and to regret were very minor. Whilst I would not expect an exaggerative performance, for this too would have been shoddy, some transformation is necessary. Towards the end, as with Rhodri, this did improve. I do recognise that Solomon was an understudy, but this is the main role of the play. Batt, however, I felt, captured the new role of Andrews extremely well, lifting this newfound role off of the page with great success. Greene, whilst otherwise satisfactory, lacked a lot of tension in her body in parts which caused for a bad performance. This was particular to the several — again, overused — moments wherein Marie was restrained/strangled by Woyzeck. “A good piece of theatre but insipid in terms of drama.”

Presenting themes of feminism, violation of the law, and discriminative and abusive treatment of employees by business-owners, NSFW is an engaging and prosperous play. Written by Lucy Kirkwood, and directed by Matthew Neubauer, this play was performed at The Lion and Unicorn Theatre in London. I will first consider set and aesthetic. Nearly every element of this set was interacted with at some point during the play, proving an efficacious and decisive choice of design, and those that were not interacted with textured the stage with informative subtext. For example, The 'Get Shit Done' slogan as part of the Doghouse sign, hinting well at the very type of company the fictional Doghouse is, or the notes made on the flip-chart, underlining humour and raunchy details behind Doghouse projects. Symbolism was even to be taken from within the transitions, such as the page-turning of the calendar by Sam (Joe Callanan). Transitions, however, seemed somewhat too energised. Whilst I understand that Neubauer perhaps wanted to keep the energy of the busy magazine companies flowing throughout the duration of the play, these transitions would have worked better, I feel, without the rush. That is to say, a constant high energy was somewhat difficult to handle at some points, and a series of transitions where the audience have time to relax a little and take in what they've just watched would have been better. The rhythmic music and running across the stage just after a manic realisation in the first scene, it all seemed too high an energy to uphold. Another thing worth revising is the use of props. There were many moments involving drinks during this performance, and every drink proved to have an awkward quality to it: the coffee cups, the water for Mr Bradshaw, all cups were clearly empty whilst they flew across the stage, and performers' mimes of drinking were awkwardly quick and unrealistic. This seems like a petty area of focus, but these moments of awkward mime removed a certain illusion from the play, especially with Miranda (Grace Arnold)'s champagne glass then being contradictorily full in the last scene. Tiny moments like these, though petty, cause for discontinuity and awkward speciation. Characterisation for this performance was good. The outlandish characters of the play provide a difficult array of personae to get to grips with, but performers met this task well with comprehension and energy. The momentum of the play was never lost. I would like to note, however, that in comparison to all other performers, Laura Pieters, playing Charlotte, was inarguably lacking. There were even moments where I questioned whether Pieters was acting at all; for example, during the first scene, it is clear that Charlotte is egotistically demonstrating a sarcasm or acerbity towards other characters, chiefly Rupert (Chris Alldridge), but this sarcasm was made extremely unclear by Pieters due to complete lack of expressivity. Another of the moments that caught my attention most harshly was her exit during the second scene. It was only inferable by other characters' influence on the scene, and by the physical act of her leaving, that Aidan (Alexander Lopez) had upset Charlotte with his remarks. This, among many moments, was completely missed in Pieter's performance. Perhaps some performers over-performed during certain scenes, creating a series of animated caricatures, namely Sam and Miranda, which conflicted somewhat with a more realistic energy from Lopez and Matt Aldridge (playing Mr Bradshaw), but, on the whole, nearly all performers were coherent and engaging. One moment that stood out sorely for me was Miranda's dance/ritual towards the end of the last scene. In Kirkwood's script, I feel that the reason this moment is so integral is in the normality in which actions are executed. To elaborate, whilst singing and dancing plays a part in Kirkwood's script, I feel more attention should be drawn to the products Miranda is using, as opposed to highlighting a goofy and musical side of Miranda's character. Playing the music aloud would have been better, in my opinion, for this takes away from the spectators having to imagine the song she is listening to and deciphering it from her movements. Whilst she should dance and sing at points, this should not be made the main focal point of the scene. Moments of watching her, in silence, apply the products with the music playing aloud from the computer would have been more poignant for this. Again, referring to what I said about transitions, this also enables the energy to calm, to sit well with the audience, a break from Miranda's exhausting eccentricity. The choice of music for this scene, however, I felt appropriate and had the potential to be very poignant, once I had deciphered what song it was. “A good interpretation and execution of dramatic text but needing polish in places.”