Theatre reviews for UKtheatre.net

Publishing these theatre reviews for UKtheatre.net, published in 2009, as the links have expired..

Direct from The Edinburgh Festival, The National Theatre of Scotland’s 365 – One Night to Learn a Lifetime is a brave, highly visual production on Britain’s care system, now playing at The Lyric Hammersmith



In 365 – One Night to Learn a Lifetime writer David Harrower and director Vicky Featherstone tackle the sensitive subject of Britain’s care system. The production traces a year in the life of a group of 16-year-olds who leave care for ‘practice-flats’, supposedly to prepare them for an independent, adult life. Featherstone took inspiration from a UNICEF report suggesting that Britain is at the bottom of 21 developed countries in its treatment of young people, and given such a starting impulse, 365 could have fallen foul of preachy moralising. Instead, the production injects life into the facts, giving us a glimpse into the lives of fourteen teenagers that is at turns harrowing and life-affirming, reaching beyond the hard realities of Britain’s care system to pay tribute to the human spirit.

Harrower has taken a risk by avoiding a clear narrative, letting the character’s lives interweave and speak on their own terms. These are stories of abuse, neglect and emotional damage, and the play’s lack of a clear structure reflects the uncertainty facing these teenagers. The script was developed largely during rehearsal, and the benefits of this collaborative process can be felt in the energy and confidence of the fifteen-strong cast. For many of the actors, 365 is their debut performance, and the occasional shaky moment and lack of any notable ‘shining light’ is overridden by a strong sense of cast togetherness.

The action largely takes place in an empty, one-room flat – a pared-down set that is used to masterful effect, providing a simple canvas for Steven Hogget’s excellent choreography. Expressive physicality takes pressure off the script, creating a great depth of meaning without the characters needing to be unrealistically eloquent or compromising the authenticity of their speech. The symbolism of floating is a strong underlying thread in the play, and some of the most emotionally charged scenes are conducted in silence with the actors elevating on wire, communicating a sense of alienation or struggle, mid-air, against an invisible presence.

It’s obvious that a great deal of research has gone into 365 – there’s a palpable awareness of responsibility towards the weighty subject matter, yet the production is never po-faced. Featherstone has done justice to a wry comic streak in Harrower’s script, and the various interwoven storylines create a momentum of their own that resists any over-arching moral or contrived sentiment. The Lyric has once again lived up to its reputation for taking chances in delivering brave, energetic theatre. Rather than resting on its merits as a ‘worthy’ production, 365 is an edgy, compelling look at the lives of Britain’s young people in care.

Richard III on the fringe


The Faction is known for flying in the face of fringe theatre tradition, using large casts to reinvent classical texts. Unfortunately their production of Richard III at The Brockley Jack seemed half-hearted in its attempt to revive and innovate, using the physicality of the cast to create some nice touches, but staying disappointingly on safe ground for much of the 2hr production.

The Faction had a hard task taking on Richard III. It’s easy for assassination after assassination to begin to drag if the production doesn’t pace itself well. During the first half the cast seem all too aware of this potential, with actors tending to trip over their tongues in order to plough through the machinations, plots and consequent murders in time for the shrewd, devious Richard to be crowned king. The hurried squabbling of nobles contrasts with the time taken in the tender portrait of Clarence before his death, giving the actors Tom Shaw (Tyrrel) and Gareth Fordred (Clarence) breathing space to create an engrossing, self-contained scene. It would have been nice to see more carefully poised moments like this. While the pace of the second half slowed to the play’s benefit, the initial galloping speed is detrimental to character development.

Mark Leipacher’s plays a suave, weasel-like Richard III, genuinely owning the part. The occasional shaky moment in the acting of lesser characters is forgivable, and The Brockley Jack’s small, in-the-round theatre gives the production an immediacy that keeps the audience glued to the unfolding plot. Whether it’s Margaret lurching into the audience, driven mad by loss of her Queendom, or Richard’s youngest nephew careering about the stage, unaware of his imminent death in the tower, the action is riveting for being often close enough to touch.

The Faction is known for the muscular physicality of their productions. While there were some striking standout moments in Richard III, the 25-strong cast could have been used to more consistently powerful effect. The pivotal ‘visitation’ in Act V is one such standout moment. The ghosts of all those killed by Richard are transformed into a moving mass of corpses heaving themselves across the stage to damn the tyrant before battle, while reaching out to bless his rival Richmond. Other instances of clever physicality, such as the decision to double up the bodies of Richard’s victims as thrones, are effective but perhaps a little predictable.

An accomplished, engaging production, The Faction’s Richard III falls short of true innovation, but certainly sets the heart racing and gives its audience a good flavour for Shakespeare’s “deformed, unfinish’d” anti-hero.

Security, by Zena Edwards



Zena Edwards’ one-woman show, Security – now playing at Battersea Arts Centre - uses poetry, music and theatre to craft a deeply personal work touching on issues of knife crime, the transition from youth into adulthood, and the multi-cultural melting pot of London street life.

The bare plotline of Security, written as well as acted by Edwards, may seem a little contrived. The play begins with teenage MC Ayleen recovering from her older brother’s murder in a misplaced gang attack. The death becomes central to the growth of her relationship with Palestinian Mahmoud, a resigned loner in his 50s whose experience of the fight for freedom in his home country is paralleled with the meaningless violence taking place on the streets of London.

Edwards, however, inhabits her characters with such force of conviction that what could have been a tired diatribe is transformed into a deeply felt and acutely observed testament to London street life. The format, being mostly composed of monologues, allows Edwards to invest real emotional depth into her characters – especially revealing in the case of Alyeen, who on the surface is an a-typical teenage MC “with attitude”. Edwards’ mastery over her characters’ physicality alone makes Security worth the watch. It’s nothing short of astounding to see Edwards move seamlessly from the teenager’s pout to take on the peculiar mannerisms of Mahmoud - with his foul-breathed dog and camera swinging over his pot-belly - or the 70-year old Jamaican veteran, who jauntily limps round the estate with his regular call of ‘Get a job!’.

While the streets around appear chaotic and randomly violent, Ayleen and Mahmoud seek security within themselves, and it is their fragile and at times strained relationship that binds together this play of many stories, songs and encounters. We see Ayleen through Mahmoud’s eyes as she desperately tries to follow her older brother’s advice to not get into trouble and ‘just be herself’. One of the most ingenious and moving scenes takes place when Mahmoud gives Ayleen a rose in the street. We see her outward response ‘What?! People will think you’re my boyfriend!” contrasted with her experience of greenness, growth and beauty while smelling the rose. Edward’s quick interchange between portraying Ayleen and acting out Mahmoud’s dogged protest that she take the rose and really ‘look’ at it, creates a scene in turns exquisitely comical and moving.

Security’s careful blending of theatre with spoken-word and music gives the play a strong sense of rhythm and pace. Edwards does the singing herself, and the songs are simple and often hauntingly beautiful – used to demarcate changes in character. If we were to imagine the play as a series of possessions, it is as if Edwards’ singing purifies herself in readiness for the next role. As a spoken-word poet, as well as a an actress and theatrical writer, it’s perhaps unsurprising that Security’s script should slip so naturally between naturalistic and poetic language, catching our attention and sustaining it with its variety and vitality. While Mahmoud’s poet-philosopher musings on the world slows the pace to a leisurely contemplation, Ayleen’s hectic, often outrageously funny MC-ing injects pure adrenaline into the play.

Seeing Security at Battersea Arts Centre is an intimate experience – the small stage gives this extraordinary one-woman show a special impact due to Edwards’ nearness to the audience and her ability to fully control the stage space. What we ultimately take away from this production is Edwards’ will to communicate her intense love and involvement in her characters. As writer and sole performer, she has produced a play with an admirable clarity of vision, that takes an unwavering and profoundly human look at some of the unseen and unheard men and women in our capital.