The Sound of Music

 27^th November, 2025

Curve, Leicester

“Silver white winters that melt into springs”

Often voted amongst the public’s favourite musicals, the film adaptation of The Sound Of Music is a staple of many a festive TV schedule. And while sweeping shots of the Austrian hills, singing nuns and Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer’s sizzling chemistry has entertained my family for decades, it comes as a surprise even to me that I had yet to see the Rodgers and Hammerstein classic on stage. Thus it was with delight that I took my seat for Curve’s annual Christmas treat with great anticipation, ready to have my goosebumps tingled and my cockles warmed. And, as is often the case, Nikolai Foster and the creative team do not disappoint, offering an evening filled with spectacle, drama and glorious music.

Fearing that she is not cut out for convent life, young novitiate, Maria, is sent by her Mother Abbess to be a governess to a widowed Captain’s seven unruly children. Maria soon embeds herself into the von Trapp family life and romance ensues against a backdrop of political unease and the threat of Nazi occupation.

Foster has reassembled much of the team behind last year’s critically acclaimed production of My Fair Lady, not least it’s two stars, Molly Lynch and David Seadon-Young, who make for an incredibly likeable Maria and Georg, displaying an easy chemistry that has the audience rooting for them from the off. Lynch’s Maria is free-spirited, with a rebellious edge. Coupled with the choice to perform with her natural Irish accent, Lynch immediately puts all thoughts of Julie Andrews’ iconic performance aside. Seadon-Young is less brooding than audiences are perhaps used to, but I enjoyed his slight awkwardness in his portrayal of the Captain. There’s an insecurity to the strict, stuffed-shirt persona displayed when Maria first meets him, which makes the thawing of his character even more endearing. The two leads receive fine support from a kindly Joanna Riding as Mother Abbess (the relationship between her and Maria has a real warmth), Aviva Tulley’s earnest and suitably youthful Liesl, and Minal Patel’s jovial Max Detweiler. The child cast are wonderfully down to earth, enhanced by Ebony Molina’s choreography which places an emphasis on childlike joy.

Foster’s production eschews any tweeness associated with The Sound of Music, instead embracing a darker tone, at times reminiscent of Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret. Michael Taylor’s superb set stages the action amidst the Austrian hills – complete with a copse of birch trees and running waterfall – an ever-present reminder of the bucolic idyll that is threatened by the impending fascist regime. The Act One finale in which the Mother Abbess sings ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain’ with the intention of comforting and inspiring Maria to embrace her true self, is imbued with a sinister foreshadowing as Nazi stormtroopers infiltrate the distant hills. While not quite as chilling as Cabaret’s infamous ‘Tomorrow Belongs To Me’, Foster strikes a similarly disconcerting tone by juxtaposing hopeful music with nightmarish imagery.

While the 1965 film adaptation expands the story, allowing time for the central romance to breathe, the fast-paced nature of this stage production successfully creates a sense of the tensions and doom-laden inevitability of pre-WWII Europe. The show hurtles towards its conclusion in the manner of a thriller, completely at odds with the care-free idealism of the opening scenes. This production has made me look at an all time classic with fresh eyes – no easy feat – while retaining many of the feel-good aspects we all grew up loving (‘My Favourite Things’, the curtain to clothes transformation, fun singing lessons, and thunderstorm frolics). Curve have yet again produced a musical treat for the festive season, for audiences of all ages to enjoy and contemplate.

The Sound of Music plays at Curve until 17^th January 2026.

For further information please visit: The Sound of Music - Curve Theatre, Leicester

 

 

The von Trapp family in The Sound of Music - Photography by Marc Brenner

To Kill a Mockingbird

 Curve, Leicester

28^th October, 2025

Following a West End run, Bartlett Sher’s acclaimed Broadway production of Aaron Sorkin’s adaptation of Harper Lee’s 1960 classic novel comes to Leicester as part of its UK tour.

“Our darkest days are always followed by our finest hours”

…So says Scout, our narrator and the daughter to Atticus Finch, the lawyer trying to prove the innocence of a black man wrongly accused of rape. But whilst Sorkin faithfully keeps the setting in 1930s Alabama, the above line has a searing prescience and timeliness. It’s also been used before by Sorkin. The line pops up in different iterations in his HBO series The Newsroom starring Jeff Daniels (who originated the role of Finch on Broadway in 2018) and in a personal letter the writer wrote to his daughter following the first election of President Donald Trump, in 2016. The line resurfaces throughout Sorkin’s writing just as America’s darkest days themselves seem to return.

The book is a syllabus staple but even those unfamiliar with Lee’s novel probably know the outline of the plot, which is remains intact in its transition to the stage. In the small town of Maycomb, Tom Robinson is accused of taking advantage of and beating a local girl despite there being proof he couldn’t have done it. Her father, a racist and member of the KKK, leads the charge against Tom. It is Atticus Finch, all round nice guy and not, by trade, a criminal defence lawyer, who is persuaded to represent Joe to do the right thing for him and indeed the law itself. We see this through the lens of his children Scout and Gem and their friend Dill (played respectively by Anna Munden, Gabriel Scott and Dylan Malyn, all brilliant). The decision to cast adult actors in this production is a smart one. Their narration carries the show and the actors strike the right balance childhood innocence and wiser-than-their-years shrewdness: Scout will typically tell the audience one thing before correcting herself after her brother disagrees followed by Dill chipping in with some hilarious commentary of his own. As they’re exposed to the reality of injustice and the complexities of the 1930s American South, their childlike understanding of human nature is tainted. Innocence and injustice, then, are key themes in To Kill a Mockingbird, and as well as come characters’ violent outbursts of racism, it’s striking that Sorkin and Sher bring to the fore many sympathetic characters who are innocent, marginalised individuals in society. One of the criticisms now given to Mockingbird is that Finch is a typical white saviour whose romanticised plan of saving Tom naively exists to test the machinations of law and to advance his understanding of racism in that time and place. This production isn’t innocent in correcting that, but Sorkin cleverly expands the role of Finch’s maid (who’s like a sister to him) to give a voice to that criticism.

Sher’s production is paced like a thriller, and this is a hallmark of Sorkin’s adaptation. One of the key structural decisions he’s made is to weave the courtroom scenes throughout. This is no surprise given he’s a heavyweight at courtroom dramas such as in films like A Few Good Men and The Trial of the Chicago 7. It gives the play a sense of weight and urgency even during scenes set on the porch and around sleepy Maycomb. The courtroom scenes, in particular, are pin-drop theatre and Sorkin’s dialogue and control of the audience’s attention is masterly. Played out on Miriam Buether’s atmospheric set, most of the set pieces are wheeled or flown in which neatly reflects the narration recounting the story.

It’s thrilling to see a play peopled with such a large cast, brimming with talent. Richard Coyle as Atticus Finch is excellent: in a cream suit (costumes by Ann Roth), he’s dependable, amiable, approachable but with the right air of authority. Munden, Scott and Malyn, with their honeyed southern accents, have a warm rapport with each other and the audience (Munden in particular is very impressive). Evie Hargreaves as the victim, whose interrogation in the court comes towards the climax on the first act, is also very watchable: twitching as she sinks in her chair in the dock, her eyes of full fear and scepticism that’s been instilled in her by her dad (Oscar Pearce). But this is an ensemble piece and something could be written about each of the actor’s performances. Even the non-verbal reactions the jury give are detailed, truthful and individual, such is the care and attention that Sher has imbued in his cast.

There’s a reason this production is the highest grossing American play in Broadway history. Its story is a searing dramatization of racial injustice in America which is still relevant today, but it’s also suspensefully and glossily told in a first-rate staging.

To Kill a Mockingbird plays at Curve, Leicester until 1^st November as part of a UK tour. For further information, please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/to-kill-a-mockingbird/

Richard Coyle (Atticus Finch) Anna Munden (Scout Finch) in To Kill A Mockingbird. Photo by Johan Persson

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?

 Curve, Leicester

23^rd October, 2025

“Martha's a devil with language. She really is”

In the middle of the night, we’re invited to spend a few hours of fun and games with history professor George and his wife Martha, along with a young couple they’ve invited back for an after party. As the play progresses the reality of their academic and liberal life becomes increasingly precarious and we spiral into their claustrophobic, booze-fuelled world of bitterness and disappointment. Cathy Tyson and Patrick Robinson give powerhouse performances in this timely Made at Curve production directed by Cara Nolan.

Edward Albee’s 1962 Tony winning play is an American classic up there with Death of a Salesman and A Streetcar Named Desire. What’s staggering then is that it was his first full length three-act play. We’re in a small New England college town: respectable, liberal, full of young blonde-haired optimism. These values are characterised by the younger married couple Honey (Tilly Steele) and Nick (George Kemp) when they first enter the home of George (Robinson) and Martha (Tyson). What they walk in to is a world of explosive arguments, manipulation and failed dreams. George is a struggling associate history professor unable to have lived up to his father in law’s (who is head of the college) expectations. Martha torments him, reminding him of his failures every chance she gets, whilst living her own fantasy life fuelled by alcohol. The title alludes to a parlour game at the party earlier in the evening, becoming a motif, sung childishly throughout the play. As Nick and Honey are toyed with, becoming embroiled in George and Martha's cruel games, we are similarly drawn into their trickery and backbiting, the rug repeatedly being pulled from under our feet. Albee’s dialogue is rhythmic and cyclical, full of squabbling and revelations that are delicious to watch. Martha and George turn everything from heartache and painful memories, indeed marriage itself, into a game.

As the play progresses, Albee destabilises the ideals of marriage and the American Dream: career success, the nuclear family, a stable marriage. At a time when America is looking in the mirror at those values, its identity and its Dream, Nolan’s production couldn’t be timelier. Her direction is well-paced and revels in the vitriol of Albee’s language, drawing out excellent performances from the cast. Tyson in particular is quite the force as Martha, bringing out her monstrous cruelty, her ability to exploit George, but also evoking a well of pain underneath. There are points, like when describing someone’s eye colour, where she’s undermining George and relishing every word. And there are other moments, like the guttural scream she produces in the third act after George pops the bubble of her make-believe world, where we sympathise with her. Robinson has a natural stage presence, making George’s dry wit and glibness Martha’s perfect match; I loved the way he offered to pour Martha another glass of rubbing alcohol. And Steele gives a standout performance as Honey: initially meek and passive, she gains confidence the more sloshed she gets, revealing the cracks in her and Nick’s seemingly perfect marriage. This is all played out on Amy Jane Cook’s set: a handsome living room strewn with books and peppered with liquor bottles squirreled away in dark corners and bookshelves.

There’s delight in watching these four actors give towering performances as characters who refuse to conform to domestic expectations and instead embrace their inner chaos. Over the three hours 20 minutes running time, bottles are broken, alcohol spilt and mascara runs, but Nolan and her cast keep the audience on the edge of their seats with Albee’s vision of a shattered American dream and marital disharmony.

Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? is playing at Curve until 8^th November. For more information, please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/whos-afraid-of-virginia-woolf/

(L-R) George Kemp (Nick), Tilly Steele (Honey), Patrick Robinson (George), Cathy Tyson (Martha) - Photography by Marc Brenner

Matilda the Musical

 Curve, Leicester

9^th October, 2025

“Just because you find that life’s not fair

it doesn’t mean that you just have to grin and bear it”

What is it about Roald Dahl’s stories that have so captured the minds of theatre makers?

To my mind it is his ability to present moral fables without sugar-coating the truth, often served up with great dollops of gruesome humour and characters that fizz with personality, while never underestimating the reader’s intelligence and imagination. Dahl’s enduring popularity with both children and adults make him the perfect source for family-friendly stage work.

 

The lyrics to ‘Naughty’ succinctly capture of the ethos of Dahl’s work – the underdog overcoming adversity; Robin Hood-ing your way out of a problem; childhood revelry; razor-sharp wit – and in Matilda, Tim Minchin (music and lyrics), Dennis Kelly (book) and Matthew Warchus (director) have created the greatest what is still the Dahl adaptation to date. Now, fifteen years after it first premiered at the RSC, the modern classic is heading back on tour and proving yet again why Minchin and Warchus (and Dahl!) are a force to be reckoned with.

Neglected by shallow parents who’d rather preen and watch endless amounts of TV than spend time with their daughter, five year old Matilda Wormwood escapes into a world of books and make-believe. Her precocious intelligence and determination to do what’s right endear her to her peers and caring-but-timid teacher, Miss Honey (Tessa Kadler). Alongside these new friends she uses her ‘miraculous’ gifts to serve her ignorant parents and bullying headmistress, Miss Trunchbull (Richard Hurst), their long-awaited comeuppance.

 

Minchin peppers the show with catchy tunes and his trademark lyrical wit; the ‘School Song’ is a particular highlight as the nervous newcomers get a lesson in both the alphabet and the perils of the education system. Minchin’s use of homophones is nothing short of genius. Elsewhere, puns a plenty (‘Revolting Children’) and a darn good raiding of the thesaurus - without, may I add, feeling at all exploitative – (‘The Smell of Rebellion’ has a definitive list of every olfactory related synonym in the English language!) exemplify the same skilful wordsmithery which so enchanted me in Minchin’s Groundhog Day (another collaboration with Warchus). While Minchin is a talented showman himself, I can’t help but itch for his next compositional offering, as he has the potential to produce a body of work as exciting and enduring as Sondheim or Kander and Ebb.

 

Kelly’s book is just as absorbing as the musical numbers, allowing each character their moment to shine in a series of anecdotal episodes – Bruce Bogtrotter and the chocolate cake, Lavender and the newt, Amanda Thripp and her pigtails, etc. The subplot in which Matilda narrates the story of the Acrobat and the Escapologist is a beautiful insight into her imagination as well as sweetly revealing her yearning for a loving family. Storytelling imbues much of the aesthetic of Warchus’ production, from the cartoonish stylisation of the Wormwoods and employment of music hall type interaction seen in ‘Telly’, to Rob Howell’s building block-cum-scrabble tile design.

 

Peter Darling’s choreography is punchy with echoes of the original Spring Awakening movement. The kids hurl themselves in and out of angular positions with rebellious verve, while desks, swings and even parts of the walls become platforms upon which to express the constraints and freedoms of the youth. Warchus ensures the fun extends to the very final seconds of the show, with a wonderfully directed curtain call involving scooters whizzing across the stage and an in-character Hurst delivering an arch ‘maggots’ to the audience. I doubt there was a person in the room that didn’t wish they were up on the stage joining in with the uninhibited playfulness of the finale.

 

Hurst has a lot of fun with Miss Trunchbull, relishing in her down right nastiness while revealing a sprightly and surprising vigour such as when blithely flipping over a gym horse or tossing a baton. I particularly enjoyed Hurst’s dry wit and quiet menace, his Trunchbull turns on a sixpence from panto villainy to a very real icy threat with chilling ease, resulting in an unpredictability that invigorates this well-known story. Likewise, Rebecca Thornhill and Adam Stafford have a blast as the despicable Wormwoods, and, though a lad of few words, Samuel Leon had the audience cracking up with his portrayal of Matilda’s dim-witted brother, Michael. Yet, quite rightly, and as ever when it comes to Dahl, the children run away with the whole show. By turns impish, sweet, and laugh-out-loud funny, the child cast are impeccable and more than match their adult counterparts. At this performance Matilda was played by Sanna Kurihara and she was tremendous. One of my favourite moments was her Act 2 number, ‘Quiet’, which Minchin packs full of twisting lyrics and complex concepts involving physics and philosophy. Kurihara expresses these perplexing notions with great poise, building up the web of thoughts and noise that both feed and confound Matilda’s brain. We can feel her frustration, and the post-crescendo peace that ensues is ethereally tranquil as a consequence. Kurihara’s performance is one of subtlety and maturity which is a joy to behold.

 

Kelly and Minchin have bottled Dahl’s dual senses of whimsy and justice and Warchus’ spectacular production is filled with now iconic imagery (the use of swings during ‘When I Grow Up’ makes me emotional due to the nostalgia evoked in its youthful simplicity and soaring giddiness) but never feels gimmicky. The kids in the audience were rapt with attention, the adults tickled and charmed in equal measure - Matilda is THE family musical of this generation and a must-see for musical theatre aficionados for Minchin’s score alone. The fun and mischief is infectious and I can’t remember the last time I smiled this much at the theatre.

 

Matilda the Musical is playing at Curve, Leicester until 25^th October as part of a UK tour. For all dates and further information please visit https://tour.matildathemusical.com/

 

The cast of Matilda the Musical including Madison Davis as Matilda Credit: Manuel Harlan

Lost Atoms

 Curve, Leicester

29^th September, 2025

Please note this review contains some plot spoilers

“It feels like we’re suspended in time”

Frantic Assembly’s co-productions with Curve are unmissable. In recent years, they’ve transformed literary classics such as Othello and Metamorphosis, fusing movement and design to drive the story forward, stripping the text and creating startling theatre for contemporary audiences. Frantic’s co-founder and artistic director Scott Graham directs this new play by Anna Jordan, about a young couple plunging into their shared past, scaling the soaring highs and crushing lows of their relationship. Those who saw Jordan’s The Unreturning will know that her plays and Frantic Assembly are a happy pairing. That play delved into perceptions of home and national identity in a production which probed big questions with astonishing physicality. Lost Atoms, which celebrates the company’s 30th anniversary, blends their hallmark physicality and stunning design with Jordan’s more personal story of a couple re-living their relationship.

Andrzej Goulding’s design, an impressive wall of drawers, takes inspiration from the opening stage direction in the text: it ‘should hold memories. The stuff of a relationship’. It’s on these drawers, stacked as high as 14 rows tall, that the couple precariously but skilfully climb and clamber, opening up drawers and fetching memories from their past: donuts from their first encounter, golf clubs from an early date, family photos. They’re the props of everyday life, the detritus of a relationship; all neatly organised, easily retrieved and easily filed away. It provides a canvas where we meet Jess (Hannah Sinclair Robinson) and Robbie (Joe Layton) as they dissect their relationship. We’re submersed into memories from throughout their relationship like the initial meet-cute, awkward first meetings with the in-laws, the highs of falling in love and the nadirs of trauma. It’s easy to invest in the couple, a result achieved thanks to Jordan’s use of language. The dialogue is prosaic, specific and sounds believable in the mouths of a young couple. But their likability is also thanks to Robinson and Layton’s performances. Layton brings out Joe’s quiet vulnerability and pragmatism. When he wins £500 on a scratch card, there are no flights of fancy or major celebration; he seems resigned to the fact he’s likely never going to be able to buy a property. His job teaching disadvantaged youths how to cook is telling of how he’s not without ambition but also shuns any compliments that what he’s doing may be heroic. And yet he’s strongly encouraging of Jess’ squashed ambitions to become a painter. Jess, on the other hand, can be less disciplined and more spontaneous. How the two actors capture their characters’ contradictions, idiosyncrasies and faults is what makes the play so enthralling.

Graham enhances the characters’ relationship through movement. As they literally scale their memories, at times it looks like the pair are suspended in mid-air as they navigate up and across the wall with only small drawer handles as footholds, and under and over each other like acrobats. Graham and his design team make great use of this effect to stage certain memories. A walk along a stormy coastal path to show Jess his mum’s beach hut sets off Robbie’s grief and an admission that he might be depressed. At this point, he is perched on a single draw high on the stage immersed in the memory of being close to the cliff edge (sound design is by Carolyn Downing; lighting by Simisola Majekodunmi). There are funnier moments too, such as one exchange where the couple remember Jess’ parents meeting Robbie for the first time. Being grilled on career prospects, whether he’s a veggie and how much sugar he takes in his tea is choreographed in a way which gives it pace, lightness and humour.

But what is another sign of Graham’s assuredness in Jordan’s play is where he lets the text come to the fore, unaccompanied by any movement. In the second act, after deciding to not go ahead with a termination, Jess suffers a miscarriage. Again, the specificity in Jordan’s text makes the scenes painfully tangible: their memories of being put in a freezing cold holding room, the nurse who couldn’t make eye contact, the sterility of phrases like ‘medical management’. For those familiar with the situation, it strikes a chord. But I suppose that is like so much of Lost Atoms, everyone who has been in a relationship will recognise at least some of the beats in Jess and Robbie’s experience.

As their relationship falters so does the way they remember those hard times. The characters often comment on the previous scene in a space which the text refers to as No Man’s Land. Slight lighting changes reflect this change of perspective as Jess and Robbie disagree on what was said, where they were, and whether one felt supported by the other. In this way, Jess’ interest in the oral tradition of how fairy tales have morphed over the centuries reflects Jordan’s thematic interest in the fallibility of memory. As their memories diverge and it’s questioned what is remembered versus what is chosen to be forgotten, the fractures in their relationship become more visible. The play ends in a series of hypothetical speeches as to where their lives (might) take them, together or apart. It’s a beautiful piece of writing which melds the specific and the universal in a production which perfectly fuses text, movement and design.

Lost Atoms plays at Curve until 4^th October before touring. For more information, please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/lost-atoms/

Lost Atoms plays at Lyric Hammersmith Theatre 29^th January – 28^th February 2026.

Joe Layton (Robbie) & Hannah Sinclair Robinson (Jess) in Lost Atoms. Photo Credit Tristram Kenton

Indigo

 Curve, Leicester

2^nd July, 2025

“These colors are new”

How much of someone’s inner world do we overlook? How much of our own truths do we prefer to bury into our subconscious – or at least try? These are some of the questions at the heart of Indigo, Scott Evan Davis’ and Kait Kerrigan’s musical conceived by Jay Kuo, Lorenzo Thione and Davis. Whilst that stalwart of British musicals, Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat, plays next door in the main house, I’m pleased to say that in Curve’s studio is a formally innovative, refreshingly colourful and superbly performed new American musical receiving its UK premiere. Three women, all different generations of a fractured family, are suddenly brought together by their various circumstances. Beverly (Rebecca Trehearn) and her husband brace for chaos when her mother is diagnosed with dementia and moves in with them. What they aren’t prepared for is Beverly’s 16-year-old daughter from a previous relationship – and who is on the autism spectrum and non-speaking –  coming back into her life. The result is an ambitious work which shines a light on characters’ inner lives and the different ways families can (fail to) communicate.

 

What’s thrillingly unique about musicals is they use song to give voice to characters and reveal truths and emotions that perhaps wouldn’t be divulged in dialogue. What’s striking about Indigo is that it gives a voice to a non-speaking autistic teenager whose dad suddenly dies. So while others can’t initially understand Emma, we experience parts of the show, including the brilliant opening song ‘Color of Home’ through her mind. In ‘Somewhere in the Gray’, we hear the anxiety and confusion over her newfound position of being in the care of a mum who’s denied her existence for years: ‘I’m forgotten now and pushed aside/ Drifting at sea/ Who will see me?’. Faced with the possibility of being thrown into a broken care system, she reaches out to her maternal grandmother Elaine (Lisa Maxwell) who’s been seeing her behind Beverly’s back for some time. Whilst Elaine is struggling herself to make sense of the world due to her dementia diagnosis that she’s unable to accept, the two share a different perspective on the world which gives them both confidence to move forward and the ability to communicate and connect in their own way. She also finds a kindred spirit in Tyler (Hugo Rolland) who introduces Emma to comic books, inviting the idea that her autism is her superpower. Underscored by colour, a recurring motif in Indigo, comic books’ accessible, vivid and fast-paced style reflect the vividness of the blending of senses common with synaesthesia, a neurological condition where Emma experiences colours as emotions, people and places.

Catie Davis’ production cohesively brings together the various creative elements so that the show’s design cleverly complements and enhances Davis’ score and thematic elements of Kerrigan’s book. Andrzej Goulding’s set and video design features a series of canvases which animate with Emma’s paintings, further sumptuously lit by Jake DeGroot. Together it’s a mix of texture, colour and stagecraft that’s visually appealing and also appropriate to the story. For instance, when Elaine and Emma take the keys of Beverly’s Car during ‘Just Drive’, the living room literally splits in two, giving space for the plot and characters to develop.

Scott Evan Davis is an original song writing talent to watch. His music and lyrics at times reminded me of Jeanine Tesori (Fun Home, Kimberly Akimbo), using rising melodies to infuse music with human emotion to express what is hidden beneath the surface. There’s great versatility in his score too, from the poignant, Jodi Mitchell-esque ‘Out of the Blue’ to more humorous numbers like Rick’s ‘It’s Been a Day’, in which he recalls spending the day ‘Ubering with Dwayne’ who then offered him cocaine whilst looking for the missing Elaine.

Aided by a top-drawer cast, Indigo doesn’t shy away from or dumb down complex issues. Whilst I found the ending a little pat, Kerrigan's book strays from being soapy. Trehearn (who was sensational as the titular plucky go-getter in Sweet Charity at Nottingham Playhouse in 2018) rises to the challenge of bringing together the different emotional and plot strands. Maxwell’s sensitive and beautifully-sung performance as Elaine ensures that Elaine is a character with dementia and not defined by it. But the real stand out, making her professional debut, is Katie Cailean as Emma - the programme notes that authentic representation was paramount in the casting process led by Olivia Laydon for Jill Green Casting. Cailean captures Emma’s tics, rubbing the sofa when agitated, her creativity and her voice with utter clarity.

Representation matters in the arts, as they have a vital role to play in diminishing the severity of conditions like dementia, and opening audiences’ eyes to new perspectives. Curve have long been a champion of that, from their dementia-friendly performances to their co-production of Maggie May. Indigo furthers that work. I hope this musical has a further life as it’s a gem of a show.

Indigo plays at Curve, Leicester until 19^th July. For further information please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/indigo/

The cast of Indigo. Credit: Manuel Harlan.

The Girl on the Train

 Curve, Leicester

20th May, 2025

 

“I want to finish my story”

 

From novels to films, and gripping tv series to, of course, theatre, there is an enduring appeal to thrillers, from both an entertainment and business perspective. For example, The Mousetrap, the epitome of stage thrillers, is a one room eight-suspect whodunit that engages the inner-sleuth in all of us and, all importantly, works as satiating entertainment at a relatively low cost for producers. The Girl on the Train carries on this traditional showbiz model, but is far more contemporary, both in its subject matter and staging. There is a strong balance between a suspenseful whodunnit that drives the play and a psychological element about memory and control, and abusive relationships. Loveday Ingram’s new touring production utilises the space and artifice of the stage to amplify the sense of unease and paranoia experienced by our titular ‘Girl’.

 

Brought to the stage in Rachel Wagstaff and Duncan Abel’s occasionally stilted adaptation, Paula Hawkins’ story starts with Rachel, a divorced alcoholic living in a grimy bedsit. On the train each day, Rachel goes by the big house she used to live in and understandably becomes obsessed with the life she’s lost. One of the neighbouring houses becomes the centre of a fantasy: the perfect couple kissing on the terrace in their leafy suburban home. And then that woman goes missing, and all eyes are on our unreliable protagonist.

 

A big question in the play is about Rachel’s autonomy and the ‘black holes in her memory’. This motif is cleverly utilised in both text and design. In the missing woman’s (Natalie Dunne as Megan) home, a vortex-like artwork hangs on the wall with a black hole in the middle. The emptiness in the middle of it, what that space is supposed to represent, and who has control of that is a key interest. This is also expressed visually in Adam Wiltshire’s set. A black box welcomes both real worlds (smoggy underpasses, one-room flats, large and stylish London family homes) and visual representations of memory and fiction. On the whole, it’s a clever design which is exciting to watch, also thanks to theatrical lighting and Dan Light’s cinematic projections. 

 

Louisa Lytton brings an arsenal of experience from EastEnders to the dramatically demanding role of Rachel. She’s a character in the throes of a crisis who doesn’t know if she can trust herself, after years of having had her sanity questioned and doubt drip-fed into her rationality. Lytton conveys all of this very well and carries the play through its two hours. Also impressive is Paul McEwan as DI Gaskill. His character is very well written, fleshing him out so he’s more than just a 2-D detective but also an interesting character in his own right that sways against type.

 

In some ways, The Girl on the Train is a well-staged, entertaining-enough soap. But on another note, Ingram and the rest of the creative team have redefined what the thriller can be and look like in the 21st century. After seeing several poor thrillers on the touring circuit over the last few years, The Girl on the Train, probably thanks to its contemporary setting and relatable characters (an OAP Sherlock Holmes with a crack addiction didn’t quite work for me), is a sure-fire hit. This production ramps up the tension culminating in a hair-raising final set piece. Exhilarating and timely, The Girl on the Train is a fine addition to the theatrical thriller canon.

 

The Girl on the Train plays at Curve, Leicester, until 24th May part of a UK tour. For further information about tour dates, please see https://thegirlonthetrain.com/

 

 

Louisa Lytton in The Girl on the Train. Credit: Danny Kaan

Muriel's Wedding

Curve, Leicester
22^nd April 2025

 

"You’re terrible, Muriel!"

 

Britain has a long-standing love affair with Australian cinema. The quirky humour, eccentric characters, and bittersweet stories strike a chord with audiences; they’re more endearing and relatable than the glossier Hollywood outputs and are a better match for our sardonic humour and low key sentimentality. Over the years many Aussie crowd-pleasers have had the musical theatre treatment – Priscilla Queen of the Desert, Strictly Ballroom, Moulin Rouge – to varying levels of success. Now PJ Hogan’s 1994 reflection on small-town life and big dreams has been brought to the UK stage and I’m pleased to report this version of Muriel’s Wedding is anything but ‘terrible’!

Porpoise Spit – the back end of nowhere – is home to Muriel Heslop and her family of deadbeat layabouts. Life seems to be against Muriel, she has no job, few friends and the prospect of romance is a far-flung fantasy. Branded a ‘failure’, Muriel is unceremoniously dumped by her popular friends for ‘bringing them down’. So she filches funds from her parents’ credit card and embarks on a life-changing cruise where she meets old school friend, Rhonda, who provides a means of escape from the shame-filled existence in Porpoise Spit to the exciting, free-spirited streets of Sydney. Muriel fashions herself a new existence as ‘Mariel’, but as she weaves her once harmless fantasies into a reality built on lies, her relationships and sense of self begin to implode. Just how far will Muriel go to obtain the perfect white wedding and make her life ‘as good as an ABBA song’?

Hogan, along with composers Kate Miller-Heidke and Keir Nuttall, has numerous challenges in translating Muriel to the stage, but they deftly navigate these hurdles to produce a hugely likeable show filled with warmth, heart and just the right amount of bite.

For what on the surface appears to be a light-hearted comedy, the show packs in a lot of plot and navigates a spectrum of tonal shifts from farce and satire to romance and tragedy. Furthermore, on paper, Muriel is not a nice person – she’s selfish, deluded and is a pathological liar. In the wrong hands these aspects could be the ingredients for a stodgy pudding that leaves a bad taste in the mouth. But here the creative team ensure the plot is well paced and, while the show is perhaps a little long at nearly 3 hours, all the characters are given room to breathe, so we’re invested in their stories. Muriel is a brilliantly flawed heroine, her foibles are equally endearing and frustrating as the audience roots for her despite (and perhaps in part due to) her numerous faults. This is helped in no small way by a stellar central performance by Megan Ellis. Ellis manages to be both relatable and eccentric, while her comic timing is perfectly pitched and she has a comfortable chemistry with Annabel Marlow as her rebellious friend, Rhonda. Darren Day and Ethan Pascal Peters give great supporting performances as Muriel’s power-hungry father and corrupt Mayor, and dorky potential love interest, Brice. Laura Medforth makes an impact during the most emotional moment in the show as Muriel’s downtrodden mother, Betty, and at the other end of the spectrum, Stephen Madsen is a riot during his brief appearance as Russian Olympic swimmer, Alex Shkuratov.

Perhaps the biggest creative challenge relates to the Muriel’s parasocial relationship with ABBA; so much of the film’s humour and heart stems from this musical obsession that the music and story are inextricable. Here, Miller Heidke and Nuttall’s new songs are triumphantly woven between classic ABBA hits, such as ‘Dancing Queen’, ‘Waterloo’ and an incredibly touching rendition of ‘SOS’. The Swedish superstars act as a Greek Chorus throughout the show and often pop up with great comic timing. Of the original songs, standouts include the hilarious ‘Can’t Hang’, sung by the bitchy quartet of Muriel’s ex-friends, ‘Ride or Die’, a cute platonic love song between Muriel and Rhonda, and ‘Why Can’t That Be Me?’ which provides insight into Muriel’s motivations – she sees girls online ‘with hair like [hers]’ that are adored worldwide, and wonders what it is that other people see in her that makes her the butt of all jokes. I also enjoyed the recurring leitmotif in ‘Meet The Heslops’, an impeccable piece of characterisation achieved in just a few monosyllables uttered by Muriel’s idle, bogun siblings.

Simon Phillips' production is slick, and technically competent while focusing on the human aspects of the story. Matt Kinley’s set utilises projections in an effective yet unobtrusive way to ground the musical in a contemporary setting, and Gabriela Tylesova’s thoughtful costumes bring the characters to life. The creative team have managed to stay true to the original film’s spirit while crafting a new take on the story which feels fresh. Muriel’s Wedding is everything you’d want from a modern musical comedy – it’s joyful, touching, featuring a breakout central performance from Ellis, and, most important of all, it’s very, very funny.

 

Muriel’s Wedding plays at Curve until Saturday 10^th May.

For further information please visit: https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/muriels-wedding/

                                             The cast of Muriel's Wedding. Credit: Marc Brenner

TINA - The Tina Turner Musical

 Curve, Leicester

11^th March, 2025

“I hear the notes. I see the movement”

The words ‘icon’ and ‘sensation’ are overused in the entertainment industry. But there’s no one the words are more fitting for than Tina Turner. Her hair, her voice, her energy, her frenetic performances and rocky rags-to-riches story are all iconic. And like other musical icons, Tina Turner’s life and career have now had the bio-musical treatment which opened in London in 2018 and is still playing. Launching its UK tour in Leicester, TINA, The Tina Turner Musical is a jukebox musical-cum-concert and, in Phyllida Lloyd’s production, a superlative example of the form.

In her own words on the opening night in London, the endeavour had ‘turned poison into medicine’. The show certainly doesn’t shy away from the poison in Turner’s life. Raised in the rural community of Nutbush, Tennessee, Anna Mae Bullock (her real name) became a band singer in St Louis for established session singer Ike Turner who she married in 1962. Ike refused to pay Tina for her work and the marriage was abusive. In TINA, he’s presented as a violent, drug-taking womaniser. In an early scene, Ike (David King-Yombo) threateningly asks if Tina is going to give him trouble for questioning her new stage name before smashing a cymbal on the floor. But despite this, and him owning her name, she continued performing and refused to let herself be defined by him. The musical’s book (written by Katori Hall with Frank Ketelaar and Kees Prins) cleverly navigates the milestones in Turner’s life and largely structures the show around that turmoil and subsequent reinvention. The show is framed by Tina kneeling preparing to go on stage in front of 180,000 fans in Brazil to sing ‘(Simply) the Best’. As she chants a Buddhist prayer, we’re transported back to the beginning of her story in Tennessee where she witnesses her dad beat her mom. The act is set up as one in which violence is a thread throughout her early life, and a tragic end almost seems inevitable. As her career grows and marriage spirals, the act culminates in a show-stopping scene where ‘Proud Mary’ is used as the trigger to her leaving that life behind. Tina (at this performance played by Jochebel Ohene MacCarthy) is singing ‘Proud Mary’ in concert, exuding charisma, flirting with the audience, fully embodying the Tina Turner style before coming to a halt mid-flow. We then see a full-on fight between her and Ike and the end of which, in a confusion of headlights, pills and anger, we see Tina check in to a hotel covered in blood and with nothing but 36 cents to her name, resolute she’s not going back to that life. It demonstrates a real commitment to storytelling, and is not often seen in a jukebox musical, for the creative team to infuse and interrupt one of Turner’s biggest hits to portray a pivotal and symbolic point in Turner’s career.

The second act, with Ike taking a back seat to let Tina shine, is somewhat lighter and highlights Turner's struggles to adapt to working with a new management team and  modern methods. In a hilarious scene, her new manager Roger Davies focuses on trying to assuage a British sound engineer who struggles to sing a demo of ‘What’s Love Got to Do With it’ whilst Tina is close to walking out altogether. But this new chapter isn’t without its travails either, and we witness the perils of being an older black woman trying to kickstart her career in an industry that didn’t always want to support her. All this leads to the finale where we’re back at that stadium in Brazil and get to enjoy a mini Tina Turner concert of our own (Mark Thompson’s costumes, Bruno Poet’s lighting and Nevin Steinberg’s sound are all excellent).

There are some weaknesses to the book: at almost 3 hours, there’s a lot to pack in. And whilst it is very much the Tina Turner show it at times tries too hard to change the focus onto Anna Mae and the ghosts of her old life in Tennessee. This is perhaps unsurprising given Hall’s pedigree of writing rich stories about her home state. And whilst a scene featuring Phil Spector demonstrates Tina’s voice and the infamous Wall of Sound on ‘River Deep – Mountain High’, I couldn’t help but wonder if his presence was thematically inappropriate given his history.

But Lloyd’s production is very forgiving and pulls out all the stops to ensure the audience has a great time. To this end, many of the more successful numbers are performed as concert numbers rather than falling into the trap of trying to shoehorn them into the plot. This gives Ohene MacCarthy opportunity to shine: she seems almost possessed as she fiercely embodies the characteristic Tina Turner riffs, movements and facial expressions. But more than just an impersonation, Ohene MacCarthy embraces Turner’s charisma, stage presence and connection with both song and audience. I was also impressed by King-Yombo’s Ike, both menacing and showing the character’s downtrodden side, the effects of years of racism and feeling unrecognised for his talents.

From escaping her marriage to reinventing herself as a rock singer in the 80s, Turner’s global success and icon status have been cemented by TINA and will continue delivering her legacy around the UK.

TINA, The Tina Turner Musical plays at Curve, Leicester until 22^nd March as part of a UK tour. The West End production continues to play at the Aldwych Theatre. For further information, please visit https://tinathemusical.com/

Jochebel Ohene MacCarthy as Tina Turner in TINA, The Tina Turner Musical. Credit: Johan Persson

Girls and Boys

Nottingham Playhouse

13^th February, 2025

“In general”

I find it striking how some of the most affecting and engaging pieces of theatre I’ve seen are written for solo performers, particularly women: Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s Fleabag (2013), Gary Owen’s Iphigenia in Splott (2015), Suzie Miller’s Prima Facie (2019). I can now add to this Dennis Kelly’s Girls and Boys, which had an initial run at the Royal Court with Carey Mulligan in 2018. Now receiving its regional premiere at Nottingham Playhouse, starring the city’s own Aisling Loftus, Anna Ledwich’s production carefully unpacks Kelly’s monologue about the traumatic effects of male violence.

“I met my husband in the queue to board an easyJet flight and I have to say I took an instant dislike to the man.” This is the first line in a direct ‘chat’ (as the script refers to them) with the audience. It’s at the beginning of an exchange about the meet-cute with her husband, which introduces us to the character and her background. She’s messy, occasionally confrontational, sometimes self-destructive, spontaneous and astutely observational. A trip to Italy (after three misguided days spent in Southampton) was the result of her resolving to end a period in her life which she refers to as her ‘drinky, druggy, slaggy phase’. A hilarious anecdote about being pushed into a puddle of puke during sex with her flatmate prompts her to reflect that ‘when a sentence like that appears in your life, you know it's time to start looking at your choices’. So here she is, about to board her flight, when she meets her future husband and father to her two children.

Through a series of chats and scenes with her two young children (who Loftus mimes and has conversations with but we cannot see), Kelly slowly builds a detailed picture of this woman’s life. Yes, there are struggles with work and family, but overall, they’re both driven in their careers, have a healthy relationship, and two funny and inquisitive children. Their portrait of happiness is exemplified in the design. Janet Bird’s set, warmly lit in a pink glow by Matt Haskins, has the tell-tale signs of success: an open plan kitchen with a hint of an extension, an island, and chic furniture. And a big reason we warm to this person and her life if because of Loftus’ thrilling performance. In her hands, the character is open, personable and down-to-earth. She revels in the humour of Kelly’s writing, enjoys the light-hearted opportunities to connect with the audience, and takes the time she needs to expose vulnerabilities. Barefoot on the stage, she gives an uninhibited performance that draws us in. And the more we’re drawn in, the bigger the shock when she breaks the fourth wall to reveal something which upends our understanding of the play and its use of dramatic license thus far.

For the remainder of the play, Loftus considers carefully what and how to reveal harrowing aspects of the story, hitting the emotional beats excellently. I don’t want to spoil the plot, but it’s interested in violence specifically at the hands of men. In many ways, this isn’t a shock turn of events as Kelly peppers references throughout: Her toddler loves to pretend play at dropping bombs on his sister’s skyscrapers; she and her husband argue over a mass shooting on the news; she works on a documentary about the failure of patriarchal society and society’s lineage of male violence. Whether through despotic dictators, boisterous toddlers or elderly eccentrics, male violence is a thread throughout.

Statistically what happens shouldn’t be a shock but still is. Afterall, as Kelly highlights several times, ‘any objective look at our world would have to conclude that men are, in general, absolutely cocking awful at being in power: in general’. But the force at which violence is now in this domestic sphere whereas before it was elsewhere – in history, in America, in make-believe – is shocking. The script is well crafted, and on reflection filled with foreshadowing and recalls which flip our perspective of certain lines. ‘This talking, moving dirty-puddle of a man?’ is an abject, almost-physical reaction to her husband, in which the word puddle recalls its humorous use in the anecdote about her flatmate in the opening scene. And there’s a line from the story about the airport queue (‘if that old bitch tries to cut in I will drop her and stomp on her neck’) which is clearly a joke but perhaps foreshadows details later on which are heard in a different context.

Girls and Boys is another success for Nottingham Playhouse after The Children and Dear Evan Hansen last year – a gut-punch of a play which will have you reflecting on our world and Loftus’ performance long after.

Girls and Boys plays at Nottingham Playhouse until 1^st March. For more information please visit https://nottinghamplayhouse.co.uk/events/girlsandboys/ 

Aisling Loftus in Girls & Boys. Photo by Johan Persson.