As someone who spends much of my time thinking about stories: How we tell them, who gets to access them, what makes them unique and why they matter.

I often leave the theatre asking myself one question: How did this make me feel? With Owl at Home, the answer was simple. I felt held.

Theatr Iolo has long understood that theatre for young audiences should never talk down to them. Instead, Owl at Home invites us into a gentle, imaginative world where stillness becomes a strength and curiosity is something to celebrate. Based on Arnold Lobel’s much-loved stories, the production reminds us that the smallest moments can often carry the greatest emotional weight.

From the moment the performance begins, George Williams fills the stage with warmth, humour and boundless curiosity. His Owl is thoughtful, eccentric, playful and quietly vulnerable. He finds joy in the everyday, creating adventures from ordinary objects and conversations from silence. It is a performance built on trust; by trusting children to understand emotion without needing everything explained, and trusting adults to reconnect with the child that still exists within them.

Williams’ experience in clowning shines through every movement. His physical comedy is beautifully judged, allowing the humour to emerge naturally from Owl’s curiosity rather than from exaggerated performance. He throws himself around the stage with incredible commitment, making every stumble, leap and playful interaction feel effortless. Every inch of the performance space is explored, and every prop has purpose. Nothing feels decorative or unnecessary; each object becomes another opportunity for storytelling, surprise or laughter. It is a masterclass in making a seemingly simple set feel limitless.

What resonated most with me was the production’s commitment to visual storytelling. As an audio describer and storyteller, I spend a great deal of time considering how stories can exist beyond spoken language. Owl at Home demonstrates this beautifully. Movement, rhythm, music and expression become languages in their own right, proving that powerful storytelling is as much about what we see and feel as what we hear.

Music gently threads the production together, adding warmth without ever overwhelming the story. Since leaving the theatre, I have caught myself repeatedly singing Cosy, one of the show’s original songs. It is deceptively simple, wonderfully memorable and perfectly captures the feeling of Owl’s world. To me, that says something about the quality of the writing and composition. The best theatre doesn’t always leave you quoting dialogue; sometimes it leaves you humming a tune that quietly follows you home.

The production also reminded me why I continue to advocate for accessible, inclusive arts experiences. Accessibility isn’t simply about removing barriers; it’s about creating opportunities for everyone to feel welcomed into a story. Before the performance had even begun, this commitment was already evident. A resource table outside the auditorium offered audiences access to song lyrics, a stage layout and background information about the production. These thoughtful additions allowed people to familiarise themselves with Owl’s world in advance and demonstrated that accessibility had been considered as part of the creative experience rather than added afterwards. As someone working in accessibility, these details mattered, and they reflected the care that ran throughout the production.

There is a tenderness running through the entire performance. Owl spends time alone, yet the story never frames solitude as something to fear. Instead, it becomes a place where imagination flourishes. At a time when so many of us feel pressure to move faster and do more, Owl at Home gently reminds us that there is beauty in slowing down, noticing our surroundings and finding comfort in our own company.

Watching the audience was one of the evening’s greatest pleasures. Children laughed freely, leaned forward with anticipation and became completely absorbed in Owl’s adventures. Adults smiled just as often, perhaps recognising something of themselves in Owl’s quiet rituals and gentle optimism. It is rare to witness a production that speaks so honestly across generations without compromising either audience, but Theatr Iolo achieves exactly that.

The production plays 15 – 30 August 2026 Edinburgh Fringe, find out more here

Image Kirsten McTernan

Richard Evans talks to Liam Evans-Ford and Kate Wasserberg at Theatr Clwyd, now in the middle of the theatre’s 50th anniversary year following a full year out for a £50million refurbishment.

Reproduced here with kind permission of Theatre Reviews North

Regular theatre-going can be habitual, so there is a potential problem for theatres obliged to alter their familiar plans. Disrupt audience routines and you take the risk of seeing regular theatre visits become occasional visits, with falling audience numbers the potential result.

On the other hand, there is the chance that you will create a general longing for what is being missed – and by all accounts Theatr Clwyd definitely falls into that latter category. 

Not long after Covid, the theatre embarked on a huge, £50 million renovation project to revive the crumbling building. Apart from its pantomime, the theatre closed its doors for an entire year, reopening partially in June 2025 and fully that October, ready for the theatre’s 50th anniversary this year. How would the closure disrupt the venue’s operations and followers?

At the centre of the work were Liam Evans-Ford and Kate Wasserberg: the former the theatre’s executive director since 2016 and instigator of the renovation, alongside previous artistic director Tamara Harvey (now at the RSC); the latter the theatre’s current artistic director, appointed in 2024. 

It must have been a little unusual, starting a new post at a theatre doing fewer productions than usual: “It was a slightly chaotic time,” admitted Kate, “but it gave me something most new artistic directors don’t get – the luxury of time to plan. It was also like coming home, as I fell in love with this place when I first joined the theatre in 2008.”

Fears of an audience dip proved unfounded: this anniversary year has so far been a genuine success, with 150,000 people through the doors – matching pre-refurb levels in less than a full year. The theatre has also counted 25,000 covers for the new Bryn Williams restaurant – a substantial improvement on the small, limited cafe that preceded it. The restaurant at last offers the full dining-and-theatre night out, as well as offering an income stream independent of theatregoing, helping to re-establish and build stronger links with the community.

The raw figures don’t do justice to the reach of the work. The theatre now has a core company of 200 people – a substantial increase on 2016, with a strong “team” ethic and a collection of talented individuals engaged in a wide variety of activities. 

“In truth the theatre kept more than a tickover pace during Covid and the refit,” explained Liam. “We used temporary venues and the marquee to keep the theatre working, while community group users of the building met elsewhere in town. 

“But since reopening, the work has blossomed. It’s been a great experience to see people filling the building again, and a reminder that we now have one of the largest, best-equipped theatres in the country. Spaces that we planned, fretted-over, gutted, then saw return to full life, now have people milling around them, making the space their own and enjoying it.” 

There have been teething problems, as might be expected with such a large project – including a major flood that had people in wellies and pyjamas baling water from the building. But even these were considered mere blips along the way.

“It was an excellent illustration of the strong team spirit here,” Kate said. “Many came late at night to help with the flooding, and stayed to make sure the place was cleaned up.”

Liam is proud of the fact that the public consultation held before and during the refurbishment gained responses from more than 8,000 people – meaning the new building isn’t a dry bricks-and-mortar exercise conducted in an architect’s office and the boardroom, but the expression of a mass of people – some professional, but most just keen to have their say. 

The result is a familiar but imaginative space that promotes theatre in its widest sense. Theatr Clwyd now has more diversity, even though the function room, the children’s play area and the wellbeing garden have still to be completed; there is an increase in casual visitors, and the community groups have returned; everything from amateur theatre for all ages to groups working with young people at risk and families in areas of high social deprivation, early-onset memory loss and even the menopausal now call Theatr Clwyd home. The theatre also holds storytelling experiences in local libraries and has taken responsibility for delivering music lessons to Flintshire schoolchildren; Theatre Clwyd is much more than a stage, it’s a community hub.

Having said that, an ambitious, forward-thinking programme is at the heart of the theatre. The building reopened with Tick Tick… Boom! and went from that slick, modern American musical to The Red Rogue of Bala – a decidedly local tale of a Robin Hood-like outlaw, as well as productions such as Our Town, Under Milk Wood and Twelfth Night – universal stories, but with a local, human feel. And there was also, of course, the pantomime centrepiece, bigger than ever…

When asked about the key things she wanted to see, Kate was clear; “I want to promote the wealth of talent we have in Welsh theatre, and lead with new Welsh work, while continuing to offer huge variety,” she declared. 

“I also want us to be representative of the entire community, even those currently marginalised in society. That was one reason behind our distinctive LGBTQ take on Twelfth Night, and the prominence given to deaf, disabled and neurodivergent people in Under Milk Wood. It‘s important for people to see themselves represented on stage. It also helps to start conversations that cause people to consider their values and those of the people around them”. If this approach proves successful, it moves theatre into the education field, as well as that of entertainment.

The presence of two renamed stages: the main auditorium, Theatr Moondance and the smaller, more intimate Theatr Weston allows for highly popular productions and also smaller, niche presentations not chosen for their profit potential. The smaller theatre has a full-sized stage and adaptable seating, permitting theatre in the round or an apron stage, and its intimacy brings an immediacy that is hard to capture in a big theatre. Most recently, Theatr Weston hosted Atlantis, a new play by Welsh writer Emily White, that picked up on the experience of Fairbourne in West Wales, where a decision was made to stop reinforcing sea defences and allow the global warming-induced rising sea levels to overwhelm the town from 2052. Not a play expected to draw big crowds, but a distinctive, thoughtful addition to the Theatr Clwyd programme. 

Liam is grateful for the Arts Council Wales funding that makes such productions possible: “There’s a two-fold benefit,” he explained. “The theatre can promote less popular, more thoughtful productions – where performance is more important than profit; and it allows ticket prices to be kept lower.” 

Some price rises are inevitable, given current political and economic pressures, but Theatr Clwyd’s regular theatregoers can still buy a ticket for less than £20, with further discounts on season tickets. 

“That makes us more accessible to nearly every section of the local community,” he said. “It allows people to choose a more unusual show, one not to their usual taste. We hear all the time from people who say they went to something they wouldn’t normally go to, and thoroughly enjoyed it.”

At a time when some theatres are struggling, Theatre Clwyd has had a highly successful year with a lot to be happy about, but of course that need not have been the case. Big-name, big-budget productions in London are often very successful, but the number of West End productions touring is falling, and some regional theatres face hard times. Many theatres, especially subsidised regional ones, must work ever-harder to build their audience, which means taking an active role in the local community. This is where Theatr Clwyd scores: two highly impressive aspects of its work are its distinctive programming and its commitment to the local community, the latter supported by local authority funding.

Having opened in 1976, the presence of the principality’s major producing theatre in a market town of only 10,000 people has made a significant contribution to the local economy, and is one of the factors that makes Mold a thriving town when others nearby have suffered the closure of vital amenities. 

Despite facing challenging circumstances, there is an optimistic, ambitious vision driving the management, one that intends to maintain the legacy of 50 years of well-loved, distinctive theatre and strives to become one of the arts world’s best employers.

“The last 10 years have been a bit of a roller coaster, to say the least,” said Liam. “The realisation that the theatre as it stood was unsustainable, then Covid, then moving the theatre to temporary accommodation, closing the building, then a reopening; it wasn’t the easiest of rides!”

“But the place is alive again,” said Kate. “We did our best to keep people coming to theatre activities during the closure, so the hiatus was less of a blow. Now there is a revitalised theatre, inhabited by a group of people who couldn’t wait to return to make it thrive again, visited by audiences who have returned to make Theatr Clwyd something of a cultural home from home. 

“We have every intention of keeping that feeling going for another 50 years.”

More info here

An arts centre I used to work with would hire out its venue to a successful amateur company every year.  They would fill its seats for three nights.  This provided valuable income, as the centre struggled to attract audiences to professional touring work, even when this was of high quality.  One type of event required subsidy; the other was self-funding.  Interestingly, the audience who turned out regularly for the amateur company, who might have seemed to be theatre enthusiasts, did not attend other types of performance.

UK society is compartmentalised, often as a result of economics, with people falling into particular camps – those who follow jazz but not folk music; those who read novels but not poetry; those who enjoy photography but not modern art.  People are often sure they know what they like and are unwilling to risk a night or day out, with its attendant costs, if there is a risk of not enjoying what is on offer. 

It’s not a question of skill levels.  Professional productions in whatever genre are likely to be technically superior and professional performers and artists are likely to be better trained and more experienced than amateurs, but their work may not be accessible.  Both the work and its interpreters, because they are famous and established, and the places where it is to be seen may be considered ‘not for the likes of us’.  Alternative offerings, like amateur productions, seem less pretentious. 

Then there is the obvious but very significant point that the arts economy cannot support more than a fraction of those with talent and a passion for what they do.  Fringe cultural activity is sometimes excellent.  Many amateurs might have been professionals.

Which is a roundabout introduction to the British Final of One Act Plays, the culmination of a festival now 99 years old but one that goes under the radar.  The event is run by the United Kingdom Community Drama Festivals Federation, a partnership of organisations in England, Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland.  Every year, after a series of eliminating rounds, the best one act play to be performed by an amateur company – or community group as they prefer to be known – from each country, is entered into an adjudicated final.  Detailed feedback is given and the winners take home the Howard de Walden Trophy (donated by Thomas Evelyn Scott-Ellis, 8th Baron Howard de Walden—apparently a prominent British peer and a ‘patron of the arts’.)  The annual event is thus large-scale.  This year its final was held at Theatr Clwyd, as part of the celebrations for the 50th anniversary of the opening of Theatr Clwyd itself.

Not grasping how the event is organised (read the publicity…) I only attended on one night, the Saturday, seeing the Scottish and Welsh entries but not the Northern Irish and English ones.  This was a pity as the English entry, ‘The Weight of Small Things’ by Tilly Lane, performed by TACT – Total Arts Community Theatre – was judged the best of the four.  TACT, based in Tamworth have no permanent theatre base but this doesn’t seem to hold them back as they have won the competition more than once.

Despite missing out on TACT, it was worth going to see Aberdeen-based Bon Accord Players’ take on Metamorphoses, an adaptation of several of Ovid’s stories, and Penarth Operatic & Dramatic Society’s All By Myself by Robert Scott. (The event provides a platform for original writing as well as versions of the classics.  Works by Chekov, Jim Cartwright, Pinter, John Godber, Arthur Miller and Alan Bennet have won in the past.)

I might not have been so generous in my feedback as this year’s adjudicator, Jennifer Scott-Reid, but she had a difficult task, being required to chose quickly between what were quite different shows.  However, she was thorough and detailed in her comments and hearing them added to the general interest of the occasion. 

I agreed that the adaptation of Metamorphoses by the American playwright and director Mary Zimmerman, then reworked by Sami Ibrahim, Laura Lomas and Sabrina Mahfouz, was original and ambitious.  It gave considerable scope to four energetic and ingenious performers who had to interpret a range of characters on a minimal set.  It was good to be reconnected with these once-famous stories, the only drawback being they are complete mini-narratives in themselves and collectively do not constitute a dramatic process. 

Also, while I followed the stories of Arachne and Orpheus with interest, I think the performance missed emphasising the meanings behind these myths.  The first illustrates the danger of thinking you are The Greatest (Weaver) Of All Time; the second reminds us even True Love cannot conquer death.  To make their show truly relevant, Bon Accord might, too, have linked the story of Baucis and Philemon to current attitudes towards foreigners and immigration. In Ovid’s telling of the tale, an elderly couple are rewarded for their spontaneous generosity towards two destitute strangers by being allowed to die at the same time.  They then live on as intertwined trees, in a poetic image that today has considerable political resonance.

All By Myself could not have been more different.  It’s a quick-fire farce based on a simple situation – that of being cast away on a desert island – and a lot of fun is had playing with the idea of what happens when one Crusoe finds out he is not alone.  I thought the Penarth cast were confident and committed. Their comic timing was spot-on.  Considerable attention had been paid to their costume and appearance and to the set.  Anyone who appreciates live theatre would have enjoyed this little show which made the audience on the night laugh out loud repeatedly.  My only cavil is that, of course, it remains a farce, a built-up sketch in which a straight man is confronted by a team of clowns.  It does not pretend to be anything other than light entertainment and it does rework a number of ideas (and jokes) that have been tackled before.  It might have benefited from a silly song or two and it could even have included some slapstick.

It’s important to mention that there were no wooden performances or any corpsing.  There was no need for prompting and none of the scenery looked as if it would collapse.  In short, there were none of the common and embarrassing weaknesses of amateur (or community) work which we have learned to expect and which we have to forgive.  I saw two pieces of strong ensemble work in which lines were delivered clearly by performers moving naturally and even gracefully around the stage.  The acting throughout was as good as anything you’d see on TV.  The pieces performed suited the talents and aspiration of the companies, something that cannot always be said of professional shows.

Might the National Theatre might consider hosting this event in the future?  As it is well attended, there would be no loss of revenue.  The National could confer some prestige on work that is popular.  Hosting the final on the South Bank would recognise a sector of the UK theatre community which, at its best, is worth celebrating.

Simon Kensdale

(5 / 5)

The Last Laugh is much more than exceptionally talented performers doing impressions of three comedy greats of the past. The portrayals here are incredibly touching and eerily true to life in the tiniest expressions and mannerisms. Penned by Paul Hendy, this is a production that reaches beyond the public personas of these three giants of British comedy to reveal the personalities, the insecurities and the battles of the men beneath. It’s definitely a rib tickler of a production but it’s much more than that, with moments of poignancy and a final tableau that breaks the audience’s collective hearts.

From the moment Damian Williams appears on stage in vest, pants, duck feet and, of course, Cooper’s infamous fez, we are drawn to this infectious, honest, compelling performance. The voice, mannerisms, the easy way with the audience are all spot on; the ‘just like that,’ the laugh, the endless abuse of Bob Monkhouse, is all eerily accurate of the late comedian. His quieter moments counterbalance this perfectly, his blank stares into the mirror, the glance out to the audience as he picks up his props, alone. The final, heartbreaking scenes are delivered with absolute poise and the silence from the audience, where there once was laughter, is palpable.

Simon Cartwright’s portrayal of Bob Monkhouse truly captures the essence of the famous comedian and presenter whom many of us will remember from shows like Opportunity Knocks or Family Fortunes. The voice is spot on; it sounds like Bob is really on stage, once again the mannerisms and stage presence of this comedy great is exceptionally accurate. I was really struck with Simon’s way of dealing with Bob’s difficulties; a comedy partner who committed suicide, a disabled child, a difficult marriage. Although his character is quieter and more reserved than his co-stars he still stands shoulder to shoulder with them, which is impressive.

A new addition to this tour is Steve Royle, portraying Eric Morecambe. His performance is delightful, joyously buoyant, but with heartfelt poignancy where needed. It must be difficult to join such an established cast, but Steve does so with ease; it seems as though he has been there from the start. Like the others, this is no mere impression, it’s as if the legendary comedian has burst into life before our eyes. The physicality of Morecambe is also perfectly captured, the infamous movement of the glasses, the well loved stage exit skipping and my favourite line of his (about the order of some absolutely correct notes), is delightfully delivered.

So yes, this is a ‘laugh a minute’ as other critics have said, but what truly gives it its staying power is ultimately the portrayal of the human beings behind these facades. It was interesting to hear that the play had gone to New York and, although the theatre goers there didn’t really know the comedians being portrayed, it was the familiar ‘lived in’ experience of simply being human that still made the production resonate with the stateside attendees.

If you love any, or all three of these personalities then this is a must-see. But even if you don’t know their catalogue of work, it’s still an important piece of theatre to attend. It’s a masterclass in storytelling; the last twist of the story, the final flash of the mirror lights and the final call to stage are devastating and brings a tear to the eye where there were, only moments before, a ‘last laugh.’

Image Credit Kirsten McTernan

(5 / 5)

Please note this review contains strong language, mature content and detailed description of the plot.

Physical Education, written by Jonathan Houlston (who also plays Joe) and directed by Richard Mylan, is a play about how mental health and masculinity affects teenage boys, explored across many scenes and set entirely in one room.

As you walk into the theatre space, the atmosphere immediately gives off a sense of the changing room at school. It’s intimate, there’s nowhere to hide: seats on three sides of the stage, a block of lockers in the middle, and the speakers play grungy, garage-type music. Electronic, repeated sounds, with a good bass. There is more of this type of music throughout. It sets the scene, complimenting the youthful but dark themes the show explores.

The show opens with a song about smashing and a guy walks onto the stage in football kit, looking into the audience, before a bunch of lads come on holding a bench each. They jump around, showing themselves off as ‘hard’, shouting and taunting. You can practically smell the testosterone. They set the benches down and begin changing into their kit ready for PE, talking to each other.

There’s lots of offensive and harsh language in this play: the way they talk about women, banging them, mentioning their cocks, different ways they describe sex, showing off that they could ‘pull any bird’, what they’d make the woman do, but also, a lot of it is them bullying each other (played off as ‘just banter’). They put each other down, teasing about their body count, being fat, being too ‘weak’. They even use gay or the ‘f’ slur as an insult (which I can’t believe is still an insult), and once we find out that two of the boys are gay and dating each other, it hits even harder. It’s very shocking and not easy to listen to at times. The audience are not eased into the subject matter at all, we are thrown straight into it, and it’s very fast-paced. But I think that is so effective.

There’s lots of comedy in it too, even during the sharp bits of dialogue, but that only adds to the themes even more, and the production utilises transitions and sound well, including having school noise and an underlying bass in certain sections to add tension.

It’s excellent at examining what it really means to be masculine vs feminine, strong vs weak, being true to yourself vs hiding, hurting and pain, the different experiences everyone has, their relationships, and why that might lead them to the choices they make.

The biggest bully and the one with the foulest language is a lad called Jason. His closest friend is Joe, and he’s quite nasty in his ‘banter’ to everyone, but he even bullies Joe. He spikes Joe on two occasions: in a party we don’t see and in the Halloween party we do, by adding more vodka to his drink and getting him to sniff some drugs. He doesn’t see it as spiking, however. This is probably how he, and boys like him in the real world, live with the decisions they make. Adding labels such as ‘spiking’ your mate makes it sound really negative, so he just describes it as ‘only topping up Joe’s drink’. He makes Max kneel in front of him and open his mouth in one scene when there is no one else there in the changing room, and he walks up to him. His privates and Max’s mouth are very close to each other. His attitude towards women is very derogatory and objectifying.

But the show is really good at showing every perspective. The reason he reacts like this is because of his home life. It’s never stated but fairly obvious, as one day he turns up with bruising around his eye and makes up a different lie each time he’s asked about it. Later on, it’s just him and Miss Rider, the teacher, in the changing room, and it seems like he’s about to open up. We can hear voices in his head shouting that he’s a ‘f****** waste of space’, implying that his home dynamic and the bruise are related (we can work out the rest). Just as he’s beginning to speak, one of the lads comes in. The moment is lost. Who knows what might have happened if he’d have been able to speak about it?

It all comes to a head at the Halloween party, and we see what can happen if we allow young men to think that speaking in the way that they do is acceptable. Also, if they stay silent and don’t challenge people when they hear it, this language will remain. It is damaging and hurtful to women, as well as to boys themselves. They need help despite how tough they feel pressured appearing.

Physical Education is a brilliant take on mental health and how your relationships and childhood shape who you are, especially for boys in the current climate. It’s fast-paced and not afraid to touch on the darkest of topics, but it also makes you laugh.

I urge everyone to come and see this play at the Grand Theatre.