We are living, I have frequently been told, through weird times. Maybe. But do weird times necessarily require weird art? Do bad times provoke bad art?
Shoe Lady at the Royal Court is not the most involving play in the world, but it does have an evocative resonance.
Shoe Lady is an intriguing and well-considered examination of the social and domestic pressures placed on women to perform multiple and often contradictory roles in our society.
In Teenage Dick Mike Lew has created a version of Richard III that suits the high school context extremely well, asking the audience to consider attitudes to disability, power and social structures that perpetuate all kinds of inequality.
The Antipodes is certainly not the play for you if you want an easy, purely entertaining night at the theatre. However, if you’re willing to put in the effort and have something to chew over then it very much is for you.
While the descent into a kind of collective insanity may seem strange in lieu of a plot in Annie Baker’s Antipodes at the National Theatre, as with all her work you find your thoughts returning to it again and again once the curtain comes down.
Europe at the Donmar Warehouse is a magnificent revival of David Greig’s 1990s visionary classic which is timely, tough and tender, brutal and brilliant.
Michael Longhurst’s terrific, visceral debut production of David Greig’s Europe at the Donmar Warehouse packs a fierce climactic punch.
An innovative take on the lesser-known Arthur Miller play The American Clock, bringing the Vaudeville elements to the fore – as startlingly relevant as it ever has been.
Superhoe at the Royal Court is a bright new monologue about coming of age in the Instagram era that really rocks its youthful socks.
A finely tuned, rapid fire and utterly compelling 100 minutes of theatre. The Cane challenges, provokes and entertains
Mark Ravenhill’s comeback play The Cane at the Royal Court Theatre is a brilliant, complex and mature account of the abuse of power.
Mark Ravenhill’s fascinating new play The Cane at the Royal Court Theatre examines the issues of culpability for small-scale endorsed acts of violence and the nature of justice.
Now, on the main stage at the Royal Court Theatre, Rory Mullarkey’s leftfield fantasy, Pity, offers a surreal state-of-the-world account of our society, and of its discombobulations.
The best that can be said about Chris Goode’s Jubilee is that it must surely be in the running for the hotly contested accolade of the worst show of the whole decade.
In the claustrophobic atmosphere of Chloe Lamford’s design, Vicky Featherstone’s production of Gundog provides too little variation of tone, especially as Simon Longman’s storytelling resists the propulsion of forward narrative.
An interesting corrective to those soft-focus romantic images of rural equanimity, in the end, Gundog doesn’t quite come off. But, like grandad’s homily to his family, Longman too has bravely tried to capture something of the eternal and intangible: human attachment to the land.
The title of Annie Baker’s new play, John, is the epitome of the ordinary but turns out to be quite the opposite. The piece is essential to understanding the excitement new writing can generate.
It’s conspicuously worthy to try to combine elements of poverty, migration, feminism, dysfunction and dementia but neither Simon Longman’s tedious time-skipping script nor Vicky Featherstone’s static direction can relieve the infectious boredom of Gundog at the Royal Court.
New misery fest about the hard graft of rural life is symbolic, but it really lacks drama and resonance.
- Page 1 of 2