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Review: Ghosts, Henrik Ibsen, Gary Owen, Lyric Hammersmith, By Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (3 / 5)

Gary Owen, known for his phenomenal play, Iphigenia in Splott, returns to Lyric Hammersmith with his adaptation of Henrik Ibsen’s, Ghosts. Featuring welsh actor Callum Scott Howells who has graced our TV screens in It’s a Sin and the stage with Cabaret and supported by a host of other famous faces, this classic tale is brought into the modern world.

Ghosts tells the story of the class system, long-term abuse and the intertwining relationships between. When Helena wants to use the money from her abusive late husband to create a children’s hospital, it begins to unravel as the truth comes out about him. She is catapulted backwards to her memories of trauma and, with her son Oz home, soon the unspoken secrets are revealed, creating problems that cannot be solved.

The entire performance takes place in one room – it looks like a plush building, with a glass window, that only ever looks out at the clouds and mist. The walls are plastered in the back view of a man’s head – a man we never meet. There’s a sense of someone always present, and when we hear the tales of abuse by her late husband, there’s this sense of him always watching. The cloud-covered building is hidden away from normality of the village, and this is only ever broached by the outsiders who are invited in. There’s a reference to class not only in this but outwardly acknowledged, and the concept of privileged in abuse underpins a lot of the story.

What is interesting is that the story delves into the juxtaposition of being a victim and this experience of turning them into an abuser. Helena (played by Victoria Smurfit, seen recently in the acclaimed Rivals) uses her position to push down the trauma, but as it unravels and her along with it, she uses her taught behaviour to impact others, using her privilege to forward abuse. It’s a really interesting take on domestic abuse and creates a feeling of unease, when, a not entirely likeable character creates an atmosphere where you feel sympathy, but breaks and returns to the unlikable person.

Scott Howells plays a lovable fool, brought up rich and sent away, he is a budding actor and holds the majority of the comical lines. He’s awkward but also bubble wrapped and this comes across in his interactions with others. His relationship with Reggie (played by Patricia Allison) becomes the one relationship that he isn’t pretentious in and the child-like innocence between them is natural and fun. It lulls us only into what comes next and they both create that easy environment, so when the mic-drop moments of the play happen, it makes you audibly gasp and feel very uncomfortable – exactly the purpose.

The only parts that felt a little out of place were some of theatrical approaches – for a large part, the play has a naturalistic feel – the performers conduct their interactions, there are monologues, and there is nothing wrong with this. On its own, the shocking moments would be as shocking. But later, there’s a change to choral/foreboding church music; some electronical music that crescendos; freeze frames and silhouetting, which are all fine as theatrical choices, but adds very little to the production. If this was throughout in little pockets, it may have added more to the performance. It unfortunately felt a little shoe-horned it and without purpose.

Overall, Ghosts is an enjoyable production. Full of twists and turns and shocking moments, it also has moments of comedy and lovable characters, doing well to create a comfortable space to plunge the theatrical blows.

Review: Vexations, Marina Abramović & Igor Levit, Multitudes Festival, Southbank Centre, By Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (4 / 5)

What a privilege it is to be able to see Marina Abramović’s work so often in the current day. Being brought up studying her performance art pieces, over the years, Abramović seems to be creating more and more work in London and each one new and as fascinating as the next and I feel lucky to be able to see them first hand and continue to be inspired.

As part of the Multitudes Festival, she has joined with pianist Igor Levit to combine classical music and her quintessential durational work to create a performance across 20 hours. The options to come in and out throughout these 20 hours or find yourself with a 1 hour slot in itself delivers a unique experience for each audience member and the feat of the art is, not only what Abramović is famous for, her bread and butter, but still managing to be something new and exciting.

Vexations is based on a one page score of its namesake. While simplistic on paper, the score is ordered to repeat multiple times and throughout the 20 hours, Levit does just that. But it changes; the tempo, the tone, the volume, the intention, it is somehow different every time and even in a 1 hour slot, it lulls you, surprises you, creates a dreamlike state and shocks you. You find each iteration to be new in some way and never the same as the previous. Levit first performed this over live stream during the Covid lockdown, with an aim to comment on the experience of all but especially the hardships of artists at the time. There certainly feels like a poignant commentary on this, and becomes relatable for everyone; who else remembers the days of doing the same things over and over, but those rare times of something new to break up those long years?

Front and centre, Levit is at his piano, tearing at sheets when a page is complete and throwing it in disarray on the stage, building and building over the hours. He approaches the music each time as if it is something new. By my slot, 7 hours have passed, and the endurance is clear and painful, with movement in his body, changes from sitting to standing, uncomfortable and becoming stiff, an almost madness in his eyes but also something playful alongside it. Untouched snacks are provided to satiate but he never reaches for them. He does however abruptly break, a strange moment when looking around the auditorium, while he goes to the toilet or grabs some food, that the durational audience members treat this as some kind of break, to check their phones or break themselves; almost like a unwritten interval. Watching Levit himself, while directly or through the huge mirror above, looking down like a topsy-turvy world, is intoxicating and strangely, the music at no point becomes unbearable or monotonous.

To accompany him, the black and white tiled stage is littered with well placed seating and audience members, chosen to sit and basque in the performance, eyes closed and in the moment. This is facilitated by two performers who move around with strong intent but at glacial speeds and no emotion. It is somewhat frightening but also calming at the same time. A wave of adrenaline as they come to the audience, breaking the fourth wall, will I be next? Another wave of disappointment (or maybe relief) when you’re not. But there’s also a tenderness in the blank faces and a sense of care by how they move and how they handle the audience members. It feels like a less aggressive selection process for a school sports team, or like becoming a “chosen one” from a crowd, being brought through a wall or veil we cannot see, highlighted by the preparation of shoe removal before stepping on the tiles. And watching this movement also lulls you, it is fascinating, and you can’t quite take your eyes off the performers or how the audience interact – some accept their fate, some are excited, one begins to move almost as if they have been replaced by the performer and copies her when he is released back to his seat, still in this trance-like state. One poor chap, with a wristband to show he is a durational audience member and therefore been here a while, suddenly loses all sense of his body, the performer still in a glacial but sped up way, not breaking character, rushing to him before he falls. He himself seems to have been pushed into a trance, and likely in need of water and nourishment, it is an occurrence that shows the impact it not only has on the audience but the sheer strength of the performers and Levit during these 20 hours.

And while touched upon already, there is a third performer – us. Or more specifically, those (in my opinion, lucky enough) to have been able to be there for the full day. What interesting experiences must they have had over that time, visually and also within themselves. I looked around and they themselves had become part of the performance – comfortable clothing, bobbing along to the music as if at a rock concert, cushions and blankets as if camped out to be the first in line at a festival or to get tickets, their seats marked by coffee cups or their bags on their chosen breaks. It was a social study that they were unaware they were part of and it only added to the essence of this performance.

Vexations certainly brings a new and interesting approach to the intention of the Multitudes festival. Breaking all the rules, it encompasses the whole room, physically and mentally, creating a unique experience and feeling but also an unusual and one of a kind pocket universe through song and physical art.

Review: Daphnis and Chloe, London Philharmonic Orchestra & Circa, Multitudes Festival, Southbank Centre, by Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (4 / 5)

Kicking off the Multitudes festival, a festival that aims to celebrate the collaboration between classical music and other art forms, London Philharmonic Orchestra and circus troupe, Circa explodes in the Royal Festival Hall.

While the concept feels unsurprising and a good fit with one another, the actual viewing of such a spectacle is awe-inspiring and exciting.

Written for and with inspiration from dance, Daphnis and Chloe depicts the story of young love, with star-crossed lovers, a kidnapping by pirates and ultimate earthquake triggered by the rescue, eventually joining the lovers together again. This is followed by a secondary piece, La Valse, created in a time of war, depicting a society of chaos and on the verge of collapse.

The orchestra is on stage for the entirety of this performance. A quick intro by the head of music at Southbank Centre, we are reminded that, a tradition physical performance, such as circus or dance, would see a moment of applaud between pieces or at moments of monumental feats, but we are asked to hold our excitement to the end to also take in the orchestra and their equal part in this. In practicality, this is somewhat hard. A classical music novice, and clearly not the only one, a small break and an actual standing up of the orchestra and point to the accompanying choir prompts a response and so when the performers come back and the music drums back up, only then we know we are not finished. Not the end of the world but a strange sensation none the less. However, there is something lovely and refreshing to not hear an applaud each time the circus perform a death-defying stunt, while not silencing a strong, short inhale, and it gave a platform to take in the whole performance.

Despite this confusion, which is minimal in comparison to the event, the room is filled with the sounds of a typical orchestra. It reminded me how I wish to visit more classical music concerts, while with little knowledge of what to see exactly, as the live music aspect gives you a special tingle from the talent demonstrated and the beauty. As mentioned before, a choir accompanies, high in the seating to the right. Their gentle standing up for appropriate moments to join in with their choral harmonies brings a multitude of feelings, from excitement to sinister atmosphere, accompanying and competing in equal measures with the ever changing tone and range of the orchestra.

While we are unable to miss the orchestra, we are somewhat distracted by Circa. A small strip at the front of the stage is their platform, working linear and occasionally branching to the backing levels of the auditorium behind the orchestra. The feats are incredible, reaching heights using one another’s strength and contortion, it is visually beautiful and provoking of audible gasps. The amazement in itself coming from the small space they easily and effortlessly work in, compared to traditional circus tents or large vacant space. There’s a want, after the starting speech, to try and give attention to the orchestra and the choir, but it’s difficult to look at their “performance” when visually, the area is brimming with both them and the circus performers. However, you are trusting on your ears and the piece never misses a moment where all elements fit together seamlessly.

Daphnis and Chloe gels the different platforms of classical music and circus with ease and beautifully. Does it feel like a breakthrough in the arts? Not really, but you can’t help but love the collaboration and that it paves the way for more live music and preformative art forms to go back to traditional roots and bring them to the modern world.

Review Hot Chicks, Sherman Theatre, Grand Ambition by Richard E Rock

When I was a kid (which was a very long time ago), ask any schoolboy what he wanted to be when he grew up and he would reply, ‘a footballer’. What any schoolgirl at that time might have answered I never discovered, as such social mixing was kept very much to a minimum. A pop star, perhaps?

For the two protagonists in this electrifying play, teenagers Kyla and Ruby, the answer is ‘to go viral’ and enjoy ‘pool parties in Las Vegas’. A pipe dream this may be, but it’s all these girls have to cling to, what with them coming from broken families and having no other discernible prospects.

HOT CHICKS is the latest production by Swansea’s Grand Ambition, in collaboration with Cardiff’s Sherman Theatre, and concerns people whose lives usually play out beneath the eyeline of the average, law-abiding, taxpayer. If such a thing still exists.

Kyla and Ruby are teenage friends who spend most of their spare time hanging around in a fried chicken shop in a deprived area of Swansea, antagonising the irascible but sympathetic owner, Cheney. One day, in walks Sadie, a woman who seems to have everything they crave: money, designer clothing and a winning attitude. Almost immediately, the young and impressionable girls are caught in her orbit, hanging onto her every word and keen to pick up the crumbs she casts their way. But there’s a darker side to Sadie and her intentions towards her new admirers are far from benign. And soon, Kyla and Ruby are neck-deep in the older woman’s world, which is a dark and dangerous place indeed, with little hope of escape.

HOT CHICKS deals with uncomfortable subjects, subjects we’d rather look away from, but thanks to the unique staging we – the audience – can’t. We’re forced to take this journey with the teenage protagonists, along the way sharing every high and feeling every bruise. All this is conveyed via the astonishing performances by the two leads, Izzi McCormack John as Kyla and Londiwe Mthembu as Ruby, who dazzle with those co-existing teenage traits of obnoxiousness and vulnerability. Rachel Redford swings effortlessly from cool swagger to icy malevolence as Sadie, and Richard Elis exudes a natural warmth as the owner of the fried chicken shop where the drama takes place. In the great swirl of all this upheaval and tragedy, he is a voice of reason.

Written by Rebecca Jade Hammond and directed by Hannah Noone, HOT CHICKS is a hugely engaging play; funny, witty, touching and horrifying in equal measure. It opens your eyes, raises your consciousness and plunges you headlong into the lives of people you might not so much have glanced at in the street. It’s become something of cliché to say that this is a play people should be made to see, but it certainly applies here. It’s an elevating experience.

HOT CHICKS is on at the Grand Theatre, Swansea, until April 25.

Review: Calamity Jane, Wales Millennium Centre by Gemma Treharne-Foose 

 out of 5 stars (3 / 5)

A rootin’-tootin’, boot-scooting good time…

For anyone looking for a way to escape the horrors of the 2025 news cycle, may I recommend instead a little excursion to the prairies and saloon bar of Deadwood City in Goldrush-era USA? 

The 2025 touring production tweaks the 1961 stage play, based on the 1953 Hollywood smash musical movie featuring the iconic Doris Day and gives it a little bit of a “modern” touch. You may have memories watching Calamity during holidays, or maybe on a Sunday with your grandparents…you may not know *how* you know the “Whip-crack-away” song or the tune to “Just Blew in from the Windy City”, but even if you don’t remember the movie exactly, the 2025 musical will draw you in for its spectacle. From its cowboys and hoe-downs, to the the Americana bluegrass musicians and the vocal powerhouse that is Carrie Hope Fletcher, there are plenty of story, song and dance nuggets to keep you satiated. 

We meet Calamity, Wild Bill Hickock and a rag-tag ensemble of Deadwood City saloon-goers at the Watermill Theatre, HQ for the production’s story where Director/Choreographer Nick Winston and Director Nikolai Foster first imagined the world of Calamity in 2014. For this production, the production team have added a few extra songs and lost others synonymous with problematic representation or iconography. 

The production does well to navigate some of the awkwardness and “cringe” (to quote my daughter’s favourite phrase) of songs written in an era where men literally imagined the idea, wrote the story, the theme tunes and then staged and directed the show featuring predominantly white men. It’s a bit like watching Little House on the Prairie – it’s almost an absurd parody of the true harshnesses, shocking injustices and brutality of frontier life, but it sure was nice escaping to a fantasy for a few hours. I even enjoyed a song sung by Katie Brown (Seren Sandham-Davies) and Calamity about “A woman’s touch”, where they spruced up the homestead cabin with some tablecloths, patchwork curtains and dried flowers. No trad-wives here though, thankfully – Calamity is whip-smart and there is plenty of sass and energy from Vinny Coyle (playing Wild Bill) and the wonderful Samuel Holmes playing Francis Fryer. Holmes’ comedy chops and comic physicality were a real highlight throughout. 

There were some humorous queer-coded moments which the producers could have leaned into a little more during the scenes where Katie Brown moves in and “runs away” with Calamity Jane. It’s a little “nudge-nudge, wink-wink”, but at least this production has a little more diversity than the man-fest that was the original film. The musicians and ensemble cast mingled about freely providing pace and colour to the script, which at times fell a little flat here and there. Being set in the Wild West with a gaggle of blow-ins, the accents did wander a little “off-piste” at times, but anyone whose watched a production of Guys and Dolls will be familiar with accents oscillating between Noo Yoik and Surrey. It’s all good, clean fun and the cast were great sports and had a great rapport. Huge respect (or should I say Yee-Hawwww!) to Richard Lock for his bow-legged shuffling and toothless gurning as “Rattlesnake” – he really looked the part! 

Centering the entirety of the production in the same Saloon spot may have made sense, but I did find myself wanting to see more more travel, movement and visual interest in the wider set, which could perhaps provide more of a sense of place of the vast rolling plains and prairies where Calamity roamed. Her stagecoach excursions are brought to life by straddling the saloon pianos and chairs, spinning umbrellas, wheels and the two tapping coconut shells for horses hooves. It’s a nostalgic, good time romp through some of Hollywood’s most enduring musical classics and Carrie Hope Fletcher’s voice is truly beautiful. The production finished with an audience rendition of the Black Hills of Dekota, a hoedown reprise and joyous soft-shoe shuffling, spins (and – spoiler alert – there’s a double wedding). Well it was written in 1953 don’t forget…

There’s plenty of life in Calamity Jane and her musical / film iterations – It would be wonderful to see a Hollywood biopic of the real Calamity. Her letters and diary to her and Wild Bill’s daughter Janey in the 1800s were found to contain a true glimpse of her life and character. The songs only tell part of the story. But in the meantime, the stagecoach, Wild Bill and Calam will be in Cardiff til they “Whipcrack Away” on the March 15th. So if you’re fancying a hoe-down and a Sarsparilla, with the gang you’d better saddle up….

Calamity Jane at the WMC – Book here (closes 15th March)

Review, The Happiest Man on Earth, Southwark Playhouse, By Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (4 / 5)

No story about the Holocaust is ever the same. We think we know the basics, we know what happened and continue to be appalled. But story after story comes to us, with each being ever so different to the last, each so horrific and heroic and unfathomable.

The Happiest Man on Earth, based on the best selling memoir by Eddie Jaku, a holocaust survivor, is brought to the stage in this fantastic one man show. From childhood to adulthood, we are taken through Jaku’s life from the happiest to the most horrific.

Kenneth Tigar who plays Jaku, firstly comes in and interacts with us, ad-libbing on the spot and not only making us comfortable but also chuckle. He is friendly and lovely and this sets us up, within a cocoon of security, for him to deliver the spine tingling tale. Tigar somehow delivers the entire, highly theatrical production with a way that feels like he is speaking to each of us individually. He makes eye contact, letting us see the range of emotions, deep from his soul. It’s so easy to forget, this isn’t his story. He delivers it so vulnerably, so intimately and so candidly.

While Tigar is the only performer, sometimes switching from himself to other characters with subtle voice and physical changes, the set and the making of different locations and atmosphere is represented through minimal staging and a range of soundscapes and lighting. It does the right amount of adding to Tigar’s performance but also elevating it theatrically. It gives you shivers and envelopes you within these different spaces and transports you to the range of humble places to the depths of hell.

The Happiest Man on Earth is a fantastic production, delivering a high theatrical performance without taking away the main essence and reality of Eddie Jaku’s life. This is not only down the the fantastic and subtle staging but also to the personable performance by Kenneth Tigar.

Review Yes, We’re Related, Lace-Evans Productions, Purple Door Productions, The Other Palace, By Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (3 / 5)

I must say, it is a daily thought and worry of mine about the (hopefully, very far in the future) moment of losing my parents *touches wood*. I’m not sure my reaction, how I will cope, and whether there will be moments of insanity or even comedy. Yes, We’re Related has already helped my knowledge that this could be possible.

Yes, We’re Related, is the story of two very different sisters, dealing with the passing of their mother, a party to celebrate 1 year on, the memories and angst and… a squirrel. Yes that’s right, a squirrel. Gerald is believed to be their mother reincarnated but what ensues is a stark look at the sister’s relationship, with one another, their mother and one of their partners and how to cope within loss.

A mixture of themes, this production certainly has moments of highs and lows. I wouldn’t say that it touches deeply in terms of sentiment or bringing a tear to your eye, but it brings out sympathies and certainly makes you think about your own relationships with family and friends. The highs are very high, with quick witted humour and a contrasting characterisation between sisters; one is prim and proper, organised and seemingly with her life together, the other, short of a breakdown within grief, is buoyant and erratic and extroverted. The two bounce off each other, with little break for pause, and this works really well. It feels truly natural as a sisterhood and as if we are peaking through that fourth wall.

The partner who is the third wheel of this relationship, is more like his partner’s sister than her; wild and melodramatic but also love-able. However, we know him as Mark, and twice does he accidentally get referred to as Mike. We can only assume this is an ex that the sister is fixated on, but we never reach that revelation and so it doesn’t quite add to the story as it maybe was meant to.

The squirrel, Gerald, is never seen. I’ll admit, I thought would there be some hand puppet or wildly, someone dressed as a squirrel. But no, he is presented in sound and light only, using our figment of imagination when he escapes and this works really well. He is meant to be the mother in animal form and the symbiotic relationship between him and the sister living there is concerning but also heartwarming. Her way of coping. A story, heard many a time in different guises. So when he leaves the story, and she succumbs to her grief, it is heartwarming and tearing all at the same time.

Yes, We’re Related is a roller coaster of comedy, meaningful conversation and a warm hug in what we will all experience, in one way or another. The performances and relationships are impeccable and it tells an age old story in a unique and new way.

The Acts by CRIPtic Arts, Performed at the Barbican Centre, Review by Tanica Psalmist

The Acts is more than just a performance, CRIPtic Arts allows those who identify as neurotypical to watch from a place of humility and awareness. Featuring a disabled cast who played themselves to present political yet integral conversations around their personal experiences due to rigid restrictions disabled creatives often face due to discrimination and therefore, being heavily underrepresented within the world of theatre. Integrated audio description, BSL-interpretation and captioning fulfilled the significance of inclusivity.  

Genuine and authentic monologues revealed personal stories of real lived experiences around cancer, learning difficulties & other unconventional rhetorics linked to disability, impairments and limitations, causing individuals who don’t fit a standard or ideal prototype, to get boxed in consequently which prevents the need to be resuscitated and liberated as a human right need, having to justify yourself in response.

The set design consisted of three projector screens, displaying surreal artistic dimensions to reflect abstract self expression as each cast member metaphorically expanded on candid expressions experienced as a neurodivergent, tapping into internal conflict, self-critical natures & insecurities having to feel, act & be a certain way to get by within society.

The self expression articulated in the form of poetry was impactful, addressing clear distinctions between connection, universal language, freedom of speech, direct communication, togetherness and unapologetic vulnerability. A true testimony to innate perseverance, strength, personal truths which help us as human beings redefine stigmas to reclaim personal narratives to inevitably recover & overcome trauma to restore hope, peace and liberation futuristically.

Overall, The Arts is an enchanting & deeply enriching introspection on the inhumane labels considered ethical, in contrast to humanistic elements seen as taboo within society. This play specifically sits at the centre of realism and humanitarian principles which encourages food for thought from different perspectives & livelihoods where you inevitably feel compassion, empathy and sympathy.

Review, Frontiers, National Dance Company Wales, The Place, By Hannah Goslin

 out of 5 stars (4 / 5)

Plunged into darkness, our eyes becoming accustomed, we start to see the outline of bodies, moving as one. As the lights come up, we are confronted with a team of mismatched and almost fearsome creatures, with mixtures of jagged and smooth movements.

A double bill, National Dance Company Wales bring questioning and critical performances, Skinners by Melanie Lane and AUGUST by Matthew William Robinson. Neither aim to give answers to our changing world but aim for us to reflect on our existence and the change around us.

Skinners particularly looks at the digital age, where physicality is distorted beyond recognition and where we live in a virtual world as opposed to reality. This first piece is what we are confronted with from the dark; creatures with recognisable assets yet distorted some what, move as one and then in separate spheres. The movements themselves move from recognisable, to abrupt, repetitive and unusual. With their costuming and contortion of their bodies, we want to understand but we are quickly pulled away, watching something unearthly, at times robotic, at times… no one knows.

It is a piece that you cannot take your eyes off. Even the repetitive movement hooks you, and there is something always catching your eye. Once the performers peel away their outer layer, they become more humanised, but there is still this sense of something lost underneath, as they continue to move unusually and almost unnaturally. It is a high octaned piece, full of dance moves that seem simple and easy, but clearly requires immense talent and skill to perform.

AUGUST, while noted in the programme as inspired by sunsets and sunrises and the liminal space between, to me, it continued this concept of other-worldly, of a digital age. A horizontal light, that throughout counts down and follows the dancers across the stage, gave this sci-fi effect; of a barrier that could not be crossed. Within this, the movement, compared to Skinners is more graceful and fluid – dancers appear from the dark and as the horizontal light moves up, down, forward and back in movement with them, they are highlighted by the shadows created.

Again, unable to take your eyes off, there is something always appearing or disappearing, with moments of increased energy, within the fluidity of their movements. It is sensual and intense, with the performers working more with one another and their bodies than previously, melding into one and separating into something different.

Frontiers showcases the immense talent of the NDCW – from the unusual and avant guard to the fluid and contemporary, Skinners and AUGUST beautifully compete in excellence.

Review Rebus: A Game Called Malice, New Theatre Cardiff by Bethan England

 out of 5 stars (4 / 5)

With 25 Rebus novels now in publication, Ian Rankin has certainly earned his crown as ‘Britain’s No.1 crime writer.’ Rebus is a hugely popular character, having been immortalised not only in Rankin’s books but also in two TV series, short stories and plays. Personally, I am not a big crime reader, but I do love a good mystery and was keen to cross-examine the characters in this brand new play by the author himself and Simon Reade.

The set perfectly captures the essence of the Edinburgh mansion of Harriet and Paul Goodwin. I was impressed by the obvious effort that had gone into creating this opulent house and particularly enjoyed the movement around the set using the two adjacent doors. The characters move about the space attempting to solve the game, Malice, a crime mystery game which Harriet has written for them all. The action all takes place in the dining room area which eventually leads to an oppressive feeling in Act Two when the characters are not allowed to leave.

Direction is ably handled by Loveday Ingram; the naturalistic approach of the character dialogue is excellent and makes the audience feel like we are truly looking into a ‘slice of life’ and we lose ourselves in the dialogue, no mean feat for a play that lasts almost 2 hours and takes place all in one room. It can all too easily become monotonous and boring, but the direction ensures that this is not the case, maintaining the audience interest throughout.

The casting is perfectly done; Jade Kennedy captures the essence of the 21st century ‘influencer’ with great success. The patronising explanations of social media to Rebus and the constant checking of her phone is eerily accurate of the new phenomenon of social media stars of today’s society. This could be entirely a stereotype, but Jade ably proves that Candida is much more than meets the eye, using her phone to obtain information that ultimately helps Rebus to solve the case and prove that she has brains as well as beauty. Jade struts around the stage and stands her own against Billy Hartman’s Jack Fleming.

Teresa Banham and Neil McKinven as Harriet and Paul Godwin play off each other to huge satisfaction. The character building here is perfectly captured by both actors, initially coming across as the perfect, happy couple but then building to something altogether more splintered and ruptured. The tension bubbles between the two performers in act two especially, especially after the audience has been lulled into a false sense of their perfection in Act One.

Abigail Thaw as lawyer, Stephanie Jeffries is a lynchpin of the action, delivering key information to the plot, sometimes holding back and creating a great sense of intrigue and intensity within the piece. Billy Hartman as Jack Fleming is the ultimate anti-hero, the obvious ‘shady’ character, whom we love anyway. The characterisation is perfect; we know he’s the ‘bad guy, the opposition to Rebus, but we love him anyway.

Finally, Gray O’Brian captures Rebus with ease; he is charismatic, he draws the audience to him with ease and the naturalism here is exceptional. We could really be looking in at a retired detective somehow caught up in a murder mystery game, I really enjoyed his direct to audience segments, cast in a single spotlight as the action moves slowly behind him. I also found myself leaning forward in my seat desperate to hear every word; this was true for every single actor on stage. The writing draws you as you want to solve the mystery for yourself and the dialogue is masterfully delivered by Gray and his fellow players.

Ultimately, this is a great evening out, a fantastic whodunnit, which transforms into dark secrets revealed and true characters being unveiled. If you love crime novels or guessing along with detective programmes on a dark, dreary night, then this is the perfect trip to the theatre for you. A great foray into ‘cosy crime,’ with a fantastically talented group of performers and a conclusion which you’ll never see coming!