Two walls of Marshall amps sit either side of gleaming trusses. A DJ booth manned by a black-clad figure sports a banner for a place called Heorot. Smoke seeps through vents in the floor and a woman in goth metal dress prowls the stage.
Since 2013, Natasha Langridge has watched her neighbourhood become unrecognisable. As the developers and their machinery creep ever closer with every passing month, she documents their journey along side her love life.
In world of Harvey Weinsteins, Bill Cosbys, MRAs and other own-brand misogynists in and out of the arts, A mini-festival of feminist theatre should be a soothing balm to the wounds wrought by male privilege. It is, in part.
You only find round beds with pink satin sheets in particular places or owned by particular people. But it’s safe to say that a woman wearing a full, fur-suited mouse costume complete with face/head mask is not one of these.
German physicist Werner Heisenberg talks of pairs and duality. The one thing against the other. The one in terms of the other. Directed by Marianne Elliott and written by Simon Stephens, this is an evening of girl meet boy, of random encounters, and the unpredictability of (human) nature.
Imagine a world where our inner monologues are voiced at all times. Sure, it would make the world a much louder place and we’d probably always have sore throats. But think of the things we’d hear. The mundane, the extraordinary, the intimate
Chile has suffered regular bombings since 2005. Unlike the current spate of terrorism the UK is experiencing, more than 80 disparate, domestic anarchist groups have claimed responsibility for these actions.