Hoes written by Ifeyinwa Frederick and directed by Lakesha Arie-Angelo is about three sensational, charismatic ladies who explore an exotic holiday out in Ibiza. You depict an exact insight into how it feels to be attractive, young, wild and free with a flamboyant nature; played brilliantly by Areatha Ayeh, Marieme Diouf and Nicola Maisie Taylor. Their holiday is a getaway from all stress, work related ties, repetition, relationship restrictions, family complications and disorientation. Hysterically anytime the character J was caught using her work phone, she needed to donate at least a quid, this was because she made an oath she wasn’t going to indulge in business related enquires until she arrived back home, so when she’s caught there’s cash to be handed over.

The character Bim makes it clear she’s on holiday to let her hair down, drink like there’s no tomorrow, take shots for breakfast, cure hangovers with more alcohol, party every night and cater to her thirsty vagina, as sex has no limits. As a female she declares there’s no shame if you want to enjoy the fun, erotic nature of sexual intercourse, be intimate with whomever you’re attracted to, and dress as provocatively as you please to flaunt your curves and your treasured assets.

Bim highlights that woman should embrace the divine beauty given to womanly Goddesses, and therefore shouldn’t feel ashamed to do as they please with their body. The audience had taken a strong liking to the character Bim as she is shamelessly hysterical, constantly throwing sexual innuendos, loud, and not afraid to speak her mind. Bim is an example of a confident, sassy alcoholic guru who’s a freak in the bedroom and straight class on the streets.

All three girls appear free spirited and high spirited twenty-four hours of the day, so it was concerning when occasionally character Bim would present characteristics of emotional disorder, anxiety, depression with abusive threatening swings at herself when she was solo in the room, unaccompanied. She would then suddenly transition, putting on a façade, smile impulsively, continuing to amuse and entertain simultaneously and disguise how upset, unsettled and anxious she internally felt when her friends were around, until they walk in on her startled by what they witness.

Hoes is a testament of resilience, exposure and the power of freedom. The production was set as a bedroom and smoothly transitioned to convey various scenes of them waking up from a night out with a hangover and getting ready prior to a wild night, fitting into dresses, pampering their faces and pre-drinking. All the scenes were extremely tight and epic, continuously spiralling new elements that were gripping, funny, relatable and incredibly moving.

Hoes is themed around women empowerment, mental health, value of single-hood and sisterhood, compassion, deeper understanding of self, feeling powerless, difficulties of being in a relationship and feeling you’re missing out and the crucial factors of support. Writer Ifeyinwa Frederick’s had mentioned her debut play focuses on the insecurities of women today. Elements within her playwright root from conflicting perspectives she has seen and identified, which encouraged her to elaborate on it. Hoes is a meaningful expression of minds and attitude existing in the nineteenth century, a very well put together and constructed play.

Tanica Psalmist

Sweet like Chocolate Boy by Triston Fynn Aiduenu is a remarkable, animated and innovative play; containing infatuating and exhilarating factors exploited. The casts Andrew Umerah, Alice Fofana, Michael Levi Fatogun and Veronica Beatrice Lewis had all done a fantastic job playing various characters. They explored themes of love, racism, police intimidation, ghetto and posh differentiations and similarities, embarking on the stigmas attached when referred to as a bounty.

I managed to speak with the director Triston, to get an insight into the origin of the idea of having the casts play different roles. Fortunately, he touched on this element mentioning how it was based on him wanting different members of the audience to affiliate themselves with a particular character and see qualities that resonated. I then asked Triston why personal identification conveyed through characterisation was an aspect he explored. Triston replied saying that through people seeing traits that connected with them personally, it would not only be more relatable but also create a more realistic perception of a recognisable world we know and live in.

Sweet like Chocolate boy is an unapologetic production, examining aspects of real lie scenarios. The different dynamics shown is Black empowerment, spiritual connectivity and the importance of healthy bonds between the youth and parent’s with the effects of how not having that bond reciprocates negative effects on the mind and triggers emotional instability. The play also showed the dynamic of having domineering low-key racist friends and the consequences erupted through being too trusting of them.

The production touched base with the fundamental values of sisterhood, brotherhood, upbringing and the guidance from elders foretelling the pros and cons of how their impact stimulates the youth’s conscious mind and will wild out if not tamed. The incorporation of subtle physical theatre movements was used to express their internal nature, power and freedom; enchanting a sense of ease as well as mental, spiritual and emotional stability.

One of the interesting elements was the presence of a God, divine energy representative. She remained stood in front of boxes throughout the entire production which changed colours when reflecting differing moods or tension. The huge boxes surrounding her lit up to these beautiful, graceful colours, her role was transparent as she hovered her arms over the boxes, constantly moving her arms in a mysterious, majestic way. Her facial expressions reflected her thoughts allowing the audience to sense how she felt during a scene, highlighting all crucial moments.

Sweet like Chocolate Boy is daring and enticing. Each scene contains high energy fused with scenes that’s emotional and fundamental as a fabricated England is shown reflecting life living in an estate. This  play is extremely entertaining as it features scenes filled with sexual innuendos, soulful, remixed garage music encouraging the audience to sing along, making Sweet like Chocolate Boy brilliantly distinctive, enjoyable and hysterical to watch.

Tanica Psalmist.

Direct from the West End, this Broadway smash-hit jukebox musical, featuring 80s’ glam rock classics from Whitesnake to Journey, transformed a rainy evening in Cardiff into a hot summer night on the Sunset Strip – and had everyone on their feet and singing their hearts out by the final curtain.

A quick proviso: I came to this production as a fan of the show; this will have been the third time I’ve seen it (fourth if you count the movie adaptation), and it holds a special place in my heart, being the first show I saw with one of my best friends in our undergrad days. Suffice to say I went to this production with my rose-tinted glasses firmly in place – though it also made me slightly predisposed to be critical of a musical I hold so dear.

So I’m happy to report that I adored this production! I forgot everything that was troubling me in the real world and just basked in its frenetic charm for two and a bit hours. Joyfully directed and choreographed by Nick Winston, the show is a funny, sexy nostalgia-fest featuring the rampantly rowdy riffs of The Final Countdown, Hit Me With Your Best Shot, and Cum On Feel the Noize to name but a few. I’m not always a fan of jukebox musicals, but Rock of Ages employs the right songs in the right places to tell an intentionally conventional story in a new, entertaining and outlandish way – and with a soundtrack that good, you can’t help singing along.

The ensemble is excellent across the board, with high quality singing and dancing and a real sense of fun from start to finish. Small-town girl Sherrie (Danielle Hope) and city boy Drew (Luke Walsh) make for a lovely central duo with great chemistry and amazing voices, who have their moments both as a couple (the epically melancholic High Enough) and individually – Hope performs an excellent, edgy rendition of Harden My Heart, and Walsh brings bravado and lovable naivete to a cracking version of I Wanna Rock. And Adam Strong, Sinead Kenny and Bobby Windebank turn what could have been throwaway characters into standout supporting roles.

But Lonny is the lynchpin of the show, the naughty narrator who guides us gleefully through the increasingly raucous debauchery. If Lonny doesn’t work, neither does the show – and the character’s passivity in the 2012 film version was one of the many reasons that adaptation failed. Luckily, Lucas Rush is the absolute highlight of this tour: a hilarious punk-rock Puck who runs away with every scene he’s in – the second act suffers primarily because he’s not in it much. Channelling Sam Rockwell and Starkid’s Brian Holden – complete with John Oates hair – Rush brings Prince-like pizzazz to the proceedings and steals laughs, applause and our hearts as the show’s mischievously metatextual master of ceremonies.

His common-law business partner Dennis Dupree is gamely played by Kevin Kennedy, suitably shambolic as the avuncular guardian of rock who runs the paradisiacal Bourbon Room. Vas Constanti pitches his delightfully OTT German businessman Hertz Kunemann somewhere between Young Frankenstein’s Inspector Kemp and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang’s Baron Bomburst, and Andrew Carthy portrays his son Franz as a kind of Bavarian Pee-Wee Herman.

Glamorous and gregarious, Zoe Birkett keenly plays the sharp, more sinister edges of Justice Charlier while also making her a sympathetic, entertaining and simply sublime stage presence. She owns the stage with every note she sings, bringing epic gravitas and impressive pipes to Shadows of the Night and Any Way You Want It.

Easily the most knowingly grotesque version of the character, Sam Ferriday’s Stacee Jaxx is the Nosferatu of the Sunset Strip: creepy, predatory and unsympathetic, he makes for an effective antagonist and a compelling caricature of 80s narcissistic stardom, giving entertainingly offbeat renditions of Wanted Dead or Alive and I Want To Know What Love Is. This is ain’t Tom Cruise’s Stacee Jaxx, redeemed rocker and eventual family man – Ferriday’s Stacee might just make out with you and off with your soul.

This is a gloriously inclusive show, where everyone is celebrated and teased in equal measure – but sadly they shy away from giving the only queer couple their deserved romantic dues. Yes, Lonny and Dennis still manage to bring the house down with Can’t Fight This Feeling (complete with a spritely, balletic body double for Dennis), but the number didn’t quite reach the (comedic or romantic) heights of other productions for me personally.

The 80s are a comforting time, near-mythic in their modern-day romanticisation. It’s comforting to look back at that era of hyperbole with a knowing grin, giggling at the outlandish outfits and big hair and the songs with choruses that can never die. Rock of Ages isn’t afraid to stoop too low for a joke, and not all of them land – it’s an 80s-set show, so hardly a bastion of wokeness – but it ribs itself in this regard with a knowing comment, wink or nudge to the audience. That said, the German caricatures are a bit uncomfortable at times, and sometimes the show basks in the stereotypes of its era a little too indulgently – and it wouldn’t hurt to have a more diverse cast.

Given that the last Rock of Ages-related property I saw was the disastrous movie adaptation, it felt like coming home to see it reign onstage once again. The film totally missed the point of the show: as musical!Lonny says towards the coda, ‘the dreams you come in with might not be the ones you leave with – but they still rock’. In the movie, everyone got a happy Hollywood ending with recording contracts and stadium tours a-go-go; but the message of the stage show is that the truly fulfilling dream is not to pursue the superficial adoration of celebrity, but to find someone who gets you, accepts you, and loves you for you. Justice Charlier’s dreams had to be snuffed out so she could survive in a cutthroat world, and Stacee Jaxx may well have started out as a wide-eyed innocent like Drew before notoriety corrupted him absolutely. Fame is hollow – your friends and family are the best fans you could ever wish for.

The full power of the assembled ensemble is left in no doubts after a powerful performance of act one-closer and show calling card Here I Go Again, and an affecting version of Every Rose Has Its Thorn. And If you aren’t energised and inspired by the incredible, deservedly iconic Don’t Stop Believin’ finale, then you’ve either never had a dream or you ain’t got a pulse. Raucously raunchy and joyfully uncompromising, Rock of Ages is energetic escapism of the highest calibre that you should absolutely see at the New Theatre this week – just maybe don’t watch it with your mum…

It’s nigh-impossible to read the title of the newest play by The 39 Steps scribe Patrick Barlow without calling to mind that most iconic of Monty Python one liners – and Life of Brian is definitely an influence on this comedy about a hapless theatre troupe putting on a shambolic production of the greatest story ever told. Whilst it doesn’t reach the comedic heights of Cleese & co. arguing about what the Romans ever did for us, it manages to be a triffic trip through theatre tropes nonetheless.

Hugh Dennis is entertainingly harried and haranguing as Maurice Rose, an actor admirably fighting to stage his dream production despite diminishing resources and will to live. Although the play constrains Dennis’ natural flair for improvisation by trapping him in a rather fruitless ‘straight man’ role, he gamely leads the increasingly (and intentionally) chaotic performance of the Nativity story with deadpan wit and a sort of hangdog brio that grounds the action even as the humour gets curiouser and curiouser.

John Marquez as Ronald Bream is a revelation; he gives a 5-star performance in a play that desperately needs but doesn’t quite deserve him. Part Charlie Chaplin, part Michael Crawford, with a bit of ‘Allo ‘Allo’s Officer Crabtree thrown in for good measure, Marquez owns the stage in every word, gesture and intonation. His delivery alone makes a so-so line sensational, and there was very little he did which didn’t result in hysterics from the audience – his lovably oblivious mispronunciation of words in particular had us all in stitches. But the crowning glory of his performance is a Terry Jones-esque rendition of Mary, and his bickering with Dennis’ somewhat browbeaten Joseph is worth the price of admission alone.

Lesley Garrett rounds out the trio as diva Leonora Fflyte aka Mrs F, bringing glitz, glamour and a truly beautiful voice – but is ultimately wasted in a thankless, tangential role. Although she performs stunning renditions of Silent Night and In the Bleak Midwinter, her character adds nothing to the plot in a play which could have easily been a two-hander. Given the purposefully scrappy nature of the comedy, it would have worked better with the theme if Lesley Garrett played an opera singer who couldn’t sing (after all, it takes an excellent musician to portray a bad one – as Les Dawson proved some years ago). And it would have been more interesting if Mrs F was Maurice’s much-discussed ex, making their professional dynamic fraught with interpersonal tension.

The play is consistently entertaining – when it’s funny, it’s hilarious; but when it’s not, it really shows – and there are a few standout scenes which elevated the action: an atmospheric recreation of the Three Wise Men following the star had an otherworldly magic to it, and their subsequent flight from Herod had a sense of genuine urgency and thrill to it. This was especially noticeable in a play which had little drive throughout, and a perceptible lull in the second act – though they made up for it with a hilarious re-enactment of Jesus’ birth involving a lengthy Call the Midwife homage.

And the set is absolutely gorgeous: a dilapidated circle of Ancient Roman columns rotates dramatically when the drama requires, framed by a luxurious lapis lazuli curtain decorated to look like the starry night sky.  The title ‘THE MESSIAH’, picked out in gold on a blood red cloth, is held aloft by two medieval angels that look as if they’d been airlifted straight out of The Book of Hours. And the ambience is aided by some neat lighting and smoke effects, plus a cool little light-up Bethlehem (complete with stable) and a rather grand heavenly star (the celestial kind) that swings in imperiously when needed. I’m not usually a fan of piped music in theatre productions, but this is one of the few exceptions: they chose absolutely brilliant scores that underlined and enhanced the emotions in any scene, from the Ben Hur/ The Ten Commandments-style epic orchestral numbers, to the excellent use of Wojciech Kilar’s sumptuous score from Bram Stoker’s Dracula).

Although the play sells itself on its comedically haphazard tone, there were some odd things about the production that made me question its intentions. The doors didn’t even open until about 5 minutes before the curtain was due to rise, and even when everyone was settled in the auditorium, the play still started late. Instead of making up time after Act 1, the interval also ran over, making us wait to see a second act which ultimately felt overlong in execution. The fair bit of audience participation (which I object to on principle) is all in good fun as long as you’re not in an aisle seat – though attempts to recreate an ‘I do believe in fairies’ moment and pass the farce off as a ‘spiritual discovery’ feel forced.

And finally… there’s a truly great play hiding within this; cut the interval and the superfluous stuff and make it one single act played straight through (which was a great move in Mischief Movie Night), make it a two-hander or develop Lesley’s character and give her more to do. As presented, it’s a production with a bit of an identity crisis, with little clarity as to what it wanted to be or say. Murder for Two and The 39 Steps deconstructed theatre in clever, inventive ways, but in this it feels as if the theatre symbolically (and occasionally literally) is falling down around them. It’s not the Messiah, it’s a very messy play.