In the heart of Leicester Square Theatre, the cast of Hamlet join forces for a night to remember. Filled with dark humour, spontaneity & creative formula, chaos is only ever around the corner from start to end. The rules explained from the start by the narrator are simple – tools and a bucket to be used by a member of the audience to help the performer either get more tipsy or in case of the alcohol finishing up too soon.
The layout features trained actors, a narrator, & Lysander who gets to drink his way through A Midsummers Night’s Dream; sailing through ‘Sh!tfaced’. Lysander whilst drunk causes plenty of commotion due to being in scenes that weren’t his to get involved in, his character remains animated and predictably amusing, due to being gun-loaded with puns (fully intended) and quirky improvisations.
The uniqueness of this show is that every night will be completely different, as each night a different actor is drunk, giving off a different flavour. The second part of the show is defiantly more livelier, as the drunk appears quietly mellow whilst soberish, making his jokes at moments cliché and more punchy than hilarious. The atmosphere could create a more energetic crowd fixed on an engaging audience participation.
Charm & chaotic excitement become one in this show. With a fusion of playful pantomime, and the feel of a pub crawl – bringing the essence of British humour combined.
You can find out more about the production and book tickets here
I came to a realisation tonight – I * think * I might be a groupie. After seeing Bad Clowns Comedy around 3 times along with their solo acts, this throuple, this bromance, continues to get better and better.
Not unlike the Cornetto series, these loveable rogues are friendly faces that you become accustomed to seeing, but each time, in a different and hilarious guise. While we are used to Sam, Christian and John, when they welcome us as one of them, josh with us and include us in the unscripted moments of fun, they still bring a new, fun and fresh approach to comedy, with new characters that still have that essence of them underneath.
On their final show of this year’s fringe, a packed house was full of an electric excitement, with genuine fans in the seats. This interactive performance invited the unexpected, with heckles and involvement that could have easily stumped a performer – not these lads. They took it, they ran with it and built on the naughty and the nuanced.
There is genuinely no point where you know what will happen next. Long Live the King! in a way, is what it says – it’s an age old tale of the line of succession but in true Bad Clowns style, with many a twist. However, the twists and turns, peppered with traditional slapstick (almost to the detriment of the Gilded Balloon Patter House’s ceiling), at times lewd and obvious jokes and (my favourite) a good ol corpsing moment when they try to fumble one another, it’s nothing short of surprising and genius. And again, in true Bad Clowns style, the ending is our choice – who will we want to be king? It’s all up for grabs and this trio are skilled enough to pivot off the potential change and the occasional heckle and surprise from us.
Bad Clowns: Long Live the King! is a laugh a minute, high energy feat in the comedy circuit. This group has only one way to go and that’s even further up!
On the 14th of June 2017, just before 1am a fire starts in the kitchen of flat 16, on the fourth floor of Grenfell Tower. The Fire Brigades are called and arrive at the building a few minutes later. The fire quickly spreads. The policy is to ‘stay put’. Residents are ordered to stay in their flats. The fire reaches the roof, then spreads horizontally. At 2.35am the control room revokes the ‘stay put’ advice. It’s too late. Too many are now trapped. 72 people die.
That wasn’t an accident. It was well known that cladding was dangerous. Before Grenfell, there were fires in the UK and other countries where cladding played a significant role in the spreading of the fire, such as Lakanal House in London in 2008, Mermoz Tower in Roubaix, France in 2012, Lacrosse Tower in Melbourne, Australia in 2014.
It was well known that the ‘stay put’ policy was wrong. Six people died at Lakanal House because residents had been told to stay put. It was well known that high-rise blocks needed sprinklers. Yet, still in 2023 Inside Housing reported that over 80% of social housing blocks lacked sprinklers and fire alarms. Sprinklers and the evacuation of residents at Lacrosse Tower ensured that there were no deaths.
Removing cladding and retrofitting sprinklers and fire alarms costs money. Telling people to stay put is easier than evacuating. It also means you don’t need to worry about specific measures to evacuate disabled people. Before the fire, residents raised concerns about safety in the building. They were dismissed, bullied, stygmatised as trouble makers. Deregulation, profit-making, and prejudice killed 72 people. Grenfell was not an accident.
Chapter Arts Centre honours the victims by showing Steve McQueen’s short visual medidation on the fire at Grenfell Tower and by hosting a series of events, including the ‘We Stand With You’, Common Wealth exhibition, which opens on the 5th of June. The full programme for the events can be found here.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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….
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.
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.
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw
(5 / 5)
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