Theatr Clwyd/ Sherman Theatre’s bold restaging of William Golding’s timelessly-relevant novel follows an all-female main cast as they delve into the heart of darkness within us all. Marooned on an island after their plane crashes and their guardians perish, a group of schoolchildren in an ambiguously modernish wartime era band together to form their own society in a world that promises freedom and danger in equal measure.

I must confess to only a passing familiarity with the original text; it was something I read during my angsty teenage years and promptly forgot in large part, except for a vague awareness of conch shells and pig heads and descents into moral turpitude. For a more informed analysis of the production as adaptation, I direct you to superb reviews by Vicky Lord and Roger Barrington; as for my experience of the play, it’s more a collection of my thoughts experiencing the story as if for the first time. And what a play it is! Masterfully directed by Emma Jordan, the story is immediate and intense, dropping us into the cacophony of beautifully distinct and dynamically-drawn characters who hold our attention and empathy just as the audience holds its breath right up to the final moment.

Lola Adaja’s fantastic, multi-faceted performance as Ralph anchors the entire production; vibrant and assertive, Adaja brilliantly leads the excellent ensemble and believably transforms from self-assured schoolgirl to stricken survivor by the play’s close. Her fraught friendship with Gina Fillingham’s Piggy feels earnest and earned, aided by the lovely chemistry between the two. The play is of course rather dark overall – but I was surprised by how funny it was too, and though every character gets a comedic moment in which to shine, a lot of the most entertaining moments are there thanks to Fillingham and her superb comedic timing. Piggy is entertainingly bureaucratic, constantly suggesting meetings and memoranda – but she also gives the play its heart, which makes her poor treatment at the hands of her peers even more painful to witness.

One of the most compelling performances comes from Kate Lamb as Jack Merridew, who believes that the divine right of choirmasters/ prefects makes her the only and best choice to rule their new realm. Lamb is delightfully domineering and priggish as the overbearing Merridew, so authentic in her arrogance that she feels like That Person we all remember from our own school days – which makes her twisted transformation all the more powerful. Hannah Boyce’s militant, murderous Roger is genuinely scary and violently unpredictable, nicely contrasting with Lowri Hamer’s uber-innocent Percyval. Olivia Marcus’ Simon adds a welcome serene presence and a calm gravitas to the increasingly grave proceedings. Lowri and Mari Izzard are charming as trouble-making twins Sam and Eric, while Laura Singleton’s Henry and Leah Walker’s Maurice make for an absolutely hilarious double act.

Matthew Bulgo’s anonymous, officiously angry naval officer arrives at the eleventh hour; a Fortinbras-like newcomer to the brutality only the audience had yet borne witness to. Scolding the surviving children for acting in a way he ‘wouldn’t expect of British girls’, the role of moral arbiter disappointingly defaults to the only white man in the story – but we the viewers are the true judges; what he infantilises as a ‘game’ we know to be a complexly brutal social hierarchy that acts as a microcosm for our own vicious world. After all, this is a story in which war rages both across the world and within the human psyche.

Nigel Williams’ adaptation neatly balances character and narrative growth with political commentary, though that means some elements are more developed than others: the major ones being the rivalry between Ralph and Jack, and the strange bond between Ralph and Piggy. Although the remaining characters are all very believably performed, they are given little time to craft their own unique transformations. It doesn’t help that the timeline is a bit confusing, making the inevitable moral downturn feel slightly rushed; and after the macabre mic drop of Act 1’s breathless climactic moments, Act 2 seemed like a hectic sprint through the falling dominoes.

The show is a marvel of innovative design – James Perkins’ jagged, fractured staging combines with Philip Stewart’s chilling music and sound design to convey an uneasily tangible feeling of being right there on the island as the action unfolds. There are a few particularly striking moments when Tim Mascall’s sensational lighting transforms the stage into a living painting – the most astounding of which centres on the hunters, crouched with spears at the ready, silhouetted against a blood orange sky (I haven’t seen such powerful use of chiaroscuro since Bram Stoker’s Dracula).

It’s always a privilege to be invited to speak on the post-show panel, and the discussion following this show was among the most interactive and illuminating yet. Chaired by Timothy Howe, the Sherman Theatre’s Communities & Engagement Coordinator, the panel featured myself alongside the play’s Assistant Director Jesse Briton, and David Mellor, Senior Lecturer of Sociology at the University of South Wales. Jesse spoke about how the creative team focused on the play’s emotional turning points, in which one moment, decision or mistake changed the course of the story irrevocably. David spoke of the gendered expectations of women, highlighting the sexist media response to Serena Williams’ recent on-court behaviour. And I spoke of the play’s excellent exploration of responsibility, the fracturing of mens rea/ the guilty mind across many, and the notion that even the audience bears tacit culpability for the characters’ crimes.

When there are no formal rules to follow, no pressure from the state and no loss of personal liberty or status to act as a deterrent, what else is there to ensure enforcement of order but the threat of violence? The scene in which the group commit a ritual-esque murder whilst already hopped-up on the glory of their first animal kill is distressing and soberingly gruesome. It’s the first breach of the unspoken moral code that only opens the floodgates to more bloodshed; what role can ethics play in a society that holds such depravity as currency? Ultimately, the malleability of the conch’s power reveals that laws only carry the meaning we assign to them.

The fact that the play translates so well with an all-female main cast demonstrates the emptiness of the concept of gendered (mis)conduct. Rather than proving the inherent monstrosity of men (as one reviewer of the novel argued), this version speaks to the notion that everyone has the potential to indulge their baser instincts if the ethical frameworks of law and order are removed; that everyone is fighting the duality of light and darkness with them. But the gender-swapped casting choice also facilitates a reading of the play as a rare exploration of female criminality, and a brutal reclaiming of women’s autonomy and agency in the #MeToo era.

Lord of the Flies is an utterly unrelenting, unmissable journey into our most uncomfortable, unconscious urges. In the characters’ stead, it asks what world you would build; who, or what, would you become?

Dim sum dumplings with Jerk chicken, Jerk chicken in dim sum dumplings with Plantain; two different worlds come together with fusions of oriental spices and Jamaican entices. A tale of relatable sacrifices and connections made via online devices.

It Tastes Like Home is written by Lorna Wells, music by Eudora Yutong Qiuo; is fused with Reggae and Chinese influences.

Two well cultured people connect to reflect a cooking career as a chef. Curry goat with egg fried rice sparkles a seasoned, yummy paradise. Inspiring them to exercise their passion for food with the hope to one day see their desires breakthrough. The character Yi who’s of Chinese descent consistently wears a mysterious mask to disguise himself whenever he’s doing his online reviews; meanwhile Camillia from Jamaican descent consistently tunes in to watch his channel whenever he’s online updating the world on his parents new upcoming authentic dishes. Camillia is oblivious to the fact she’s a regular customer to the anonymous bloggers diner; however Yi is aware of who she is, which gives this play an hysterical twist. His attraction to the Island girl increases daily but he decides to remain secretive about it, acknowledging that he may not receive his parents approval. We see an insight into  two different culture’s traditions, stereotypes and complexities.

A beautiful tale of two worlds in one life, themed around interracial relationships, intertwined culture, family standards, biracial acceptance, Identity and family disputes. An emotional cycle of when harmony fulfils happiness and morals and passion are stirred together. A multicultural musical exploiting the first generations of British citizens from different ethnic origins, searching for hope and belonging.

Tanica Psamist

Over the years I’ve had the distinct privilege of seeing excellent theatre productions in which a pared-down cast take on multiple roles to great success: 2016’s The 39 Steps at the New Theatre Cardiff (in which 4 actors played 150 roles between them), and, one of my favourite theatre productions ever, 2009’s Two Gentlemen of Verona at the Sherman Theatre Cardiff (in which two actors masterfully inhabited every role in that particular Shakespeare play). The Watermill Theatre’s new UK tour of the Off-Broadway smash hit Murder for Two, in which two actors play thirteen characters AND the piano, now ranks among those hallowed productions in artistry, energy and pure, no holds barred brilliance.

Murder for Two reassembles the Olivier-award winning In the Heights’ producer-director double act, Paul Taylor-Mills and Luke Sheppard, in the furtherance of a cleverly comical take on the murder mystery genre – it’s like Poirot, but with songs. With such a madcap mashup of genres and a huge burden placed on its only two actors, it’s a miracle they pull off the show at all, let alone do it so well.

Ed MacArthur (left) plays Officer Marcus Moscowicz, the hapless yet hopeful would-be detective who gets embroiled in the crazy case of a famous novelist who was murdered at his own birthday party. Jeremy Legat (right) plays, well, everyone else, infusing each of the numerous suspects with their own distinct physicality and stage presence, from speech patterns to mannerisms to a creative use of props and accessories. There’s no lull in the action or the hilarious antics on display as Moscowicz desperately tries to uncover who the killer is before time runs out.

Legat is a one-man tour-de-force who commands the stage like the manic lovechild of Martin Short, Eddie Marsan and The Hoosiers’ flicky-haired frontman Irwin Sparkes. His credits in this play alone are as numerous as the characters on a Guess Who? board, and he flips through each with the ease of changing the channel on your tellybox. MacArthur plays a commendable straight man to Legat’s rollcall of affably eccentric characters; channelling the leading likability of musical contemporaries like Aaron Tveit and Santino Fontana, MacArthur grounds the madcap antics and ably conveys that put-upon charm of someone just waiting for their chance to come. The chemistry between the two is delightful, balanced and mutually supportive, and the joy they take in playing these characters is utterly infectious – talented, hilarious AND they’re excellent pianists too? The level of skill on display here is simply stunning.

The play itself is just so much fun to watch; the audience’s responsiveness alone is a testament to that fact, genially engaging with the actors’ fourth-wall breaking interactions – and I haven’t laughed this much in a non-Mischief Theatre production for quite some time. The music is also wonderful, not only entertaining to listen to, but which also proves integral in delivering plot points and character motivations. Some standouts include Protocol Says (Moscowicz’s ode to order), A Lot Woise (a Gee, Officer Krupke!-style ditty about having seen too much too young), and the show’s first act-closing magnum opus So What? which simply has to be experienced live.

Gabriella Slade’s set design is appealingly ramshackle in a suitably Sherlockian fashion, all elegantly worn furniture and exposed brick walls gradually dissipating into the ether – the perfect amount of things with which to interact, without seeming too cluttered, and every bit of which serves the story and sets the mood. The lighting (designed by Chris Withers) and sound (co-designed by Michael Livermore and Tom Attwood, the latter of whom was also responsible for musical direction) are both innovatively intertwined into the action, and highlight the emotions of any given scene with subtlety (whilst applying appropriate bombast to a scene near the end I won’t spoil, but which involves a disco ball and lots of bubbles).

This dazzlingly dynamic production will, as the tagline promises, ‘put the laughter in manslaughter’ and bring a smile to your face. Anchored by two tremendously talented leads, this exhilaratingly excellent show never lets up for a second; it’s the Deadpool of musical theatre: a magnificent meta masterpiece that plays like a love letter to theatre in the guise of a farce. It’s at the New Theatre through to Saturday 27th October, and if it’s humanly possible for you to see this show, you absolutely should (though perhaps think twice about getting an aisle seat in the stalls…)

Chav is a performed and written by Kelly Green, the play foretells Kelly Green’s internal story from when she was a girl developing in to a woman finding herself and articulating her voice as a lady, who was a single mum who felt disconnected to society and affiliated to labels by judgmental critics in her community.

All photo credits Ali Wright

We see how fate was a gateway for her to escape her pain and permitted an escape for her to willingly explore herself as a PHD student, artist and employee. Her performance cultivates awareness of a captivating society that’s held within a social culture, easily lost and withdrawn from the torment inflicted in to young females, who may also be struggling to adjust to life, fitting into the stereotype of a chav.

Chav is an immersive, sticky and engaging solo play; an autobiographical journey expressing academic discrimination, family complexities, class struggles, judgments, political support, working- class female identity and internal conflicts circulated around growing up in anger from not being taken seriously by the masses. This play is a testimonial in to what middle class individuals’ life can detect growing up feeling detached from home, school and portraying a stereotypical chav in their social life.

Chav is fused with breaking fourth wall elements, projections, hysterical clichés and frustrations, exportation of an exact depiction of the struggle. The audience experiences phases of a rave feel with a depiction of the sentimental feelings and the fabrication of England. This production is enticed with expressions and intimate real life moments and powerful emotions which we can all relate to in spite of our class.

Tanica Psalmist

Hopeless is a solo production, written and performed by Leyla Josephine.  The beginning started off with overwhelming music that was reflective of tragic love lives, sung by Adele and Sam Smith. Leyla was presented mid stage with a huge, snuggly duvet over her head in bed; which conveyed how bed at times is our dwelling place to escape from the world as well as a nest to rest our minds when we’ve exhausted ourselves and have no more energy to persevere.

Hopeless contained compelling, empowering and outspoken, spoken word performed by Leyla that drastically tackled political and social aspects demoralising our system, persona, mind-sets and attitude in our everyday lives to create change and aspire our everyday life choices. The hysterical elements were when Leyla would use breaking the fourth wall techniques, as it instantly helped form a relaxing atmosphere and a connection to her character as she wore no makeup, was shameless about voicing her opinion and shared personal experiences she encountered during her stay at a children’s refugee camp.

Hopeless is a stimulating production, as Leyla takes you on an epic emotional rollercoaster of deep, thought provoking content in poetical form of the global dysfunctions that surround us but we may act oblivious to; to avoid discussion due to us feeling helpless or hopeless to concern ourselves if the problem isn’t an inflicting issue within our community.

Leyla from the start of the play states that it’s not an ordinary play the audience has come to watch but a self-awareness piece, with realisation of how feeling hopeless can affect our consciousness and she artistically paints a vivid description to why humanity does feel hopeless; breaking down the counterparts of climate change, why disasters can be sexy, how the news at times forgets the human parts, emptiness in bank balances, expression of the ‘big boys’ highlighting the rich get richer and poor gets poorer concept and metaphorically referring to how lives can feel like the sinking of the titanic when life gets too tough!

Hopeless is an eye-opening, convicting and rational play; which presents healing of the mind and inspiring words during her spoken word pieces, an enlightening, factual performance.

Tanica Psalmist