Small Island is a terrific yarn, both romantic and tough, about history and Empire and sex and frustration, escape and hope and love and racism: about promises turned to dross and the great seas of misunderstanding that roll between people.
Five mice for White Pearl at the Royal Court Theatre because it’s different and clever and useful, and horribly good fun.
This is gorgeous. Funny, truthful, wise, and bravely original in form. Anyone with a a family – past, present, remembered, or merely observed in cautious auntly incredulity – should see Tim Firth’s musical This Is My Family.
Specific though the SA setting is, Kunene & The King opens great vistas of heart-stopping universal wisdom about death, guilt, reconciliation and human need.
If we accept that people are widely diverse, we have to accept that paedophiles are too. Not all the same identi-monster. Moreover, if their horrifying actions pose us questions we need to think very clearly about answers.
Nine Night is an honest and beautiful play which by being so particular and rooted in one community becomes a conduit of universal emotional truths. Fabulous.
Has the performance of A Christmas Carol, and Simon Callow, changed over the years? Probably, but not from ego or bravura, no cheap tricks, no knowing modernities: if anything the sincerity has deepened.
You gasp and laugh and shiver in recognition and, yes, love. However many times you have seen it this tight, intimate, heartfelt production at the Menier Chocolate Factory sparks new life into Fiddler On the Roof.
A Christmas Carol at The Old Vic is, if possible, even finer and more heartfelt and gripping, tuneable and serious and moving than last year.
Marianne Elliott’s production of Company is the comeback kid, another demonstration that Britain is natural Sondheim country: all dry wit and laughing resignation.