Heathers the Musical

 Curve, Leicester

15^th August, 2023

“Life could be beautiful”

You can’t fault producers Bill Kenwright and Paul Taylor-Mills for what they’ve achieved with Heathers the Musical. Kevin Murphy and Laurence O’Keefe’s 2013 black musical comedy didn’t quite find its feet in the US. This side of the Atlantic the show, which last week announced the closure of its London production, has become a cult hit. Teenagers in the audience dress up as their favourite Heather and throw colourful scrunchies on stage at the curtain call. Based on the 1989 film, you can see why its dark humour and subversiveness appeals to a certain age. But whilst its tone aims to mix nihilism with bubble gum humour, it often strikes an odd chord.

In Heathers, the torments of high school life are emphasised to their extremes. Everyone is defined by a single characteristic or their clique: the sports jocks, the geeks and, predecessors to the Mean Girls, the Heathers, led by ‘mythical biatch’ Heather Chandler (Verity Thompson). Sporting blazers, miniskirts and croquet mallets, each one is assigned their own colour as accentuated in Ben Cracknell’s lighting. Nerdy Veronica Sawyer (Jenna Innes) lands herself a prime lunch spot with the Heathers once they discover her gift for forgery. She is subsequently torn between her distaste for her new friends, her desire to be popular and her increasing attraction to the mysterious new kid, JD (played convincingly with chilling quirk here by Jacob Fowler), that leads to jealousy, spite and eventually murder.

JD has an overprotective streak and father issues which leads him to a killing spree that propels the musical’s plot. School shootings have shockingly become a reoccurring event in America. Whilst there are plays which explore the subject matter more seriously (Simon Stephens’ Punk Rock in 2009, and Stephen Karam and PJ Paparelli’s columbinus in 2005), the songs in Heathers help to keep such extremes in the realm of comedy whilst providing some insight into JD’s psychology and motivations. “Freeze Your Brain” explains how 7/11 stores have been his only mainstay in a nomadic upbringing, taking solace in the brain freeze that a Slushie brings: ‘Get lost in the pain/ Happiness comes when everything numbs’. It’s in numbers like this which the score quietly shines. While some of the ensemble numbers are a little hectic, the musical comes into its own in the quieter solo or duet set-pieces. Whether that be the dark humour in Veronica and JD ad-libbing Heather Chandler’s suicide note – ‘My problems were myriad, I was having my period’ – the pleasant simplicity of "Seventeen", or Heather McNamara’s moment of soulbearing in "Lifeboat".

Although the performance we saw was the 200^th of the current UK tour, one of the challenges of touring is a new venue each week. It may be that the production is still settling into this week’s Westerburg High but, at this performance, Dan Samson’s sound design didn’t fare too well. Mics were occasionally turned up late and vocals were often drowned out by a fuzzy-sounding band which sounded like they were playing in a different room. What is an enjoyable show would have been more enjoyable had we been able to hear the lyrics a little more clearly.

With the London run closing next month, I’m confident Heathers will continue to find an audience. It’s a fun musical which doesn’t take its acerbic undercurrents too seriously and quite clearly speaks to a new generation of theatregoers which, ultimately, is something to celebrate.

Heathers the Musical plays at Curve, Leicester until 19^th August and continues to tour until 4^th November. The London production is currently playing at The Other Palace until 3^rd September. For more information, please visit https://www.heathersthemusical.com/

Jenna Innes and Jacob Fowler in Heather the Musical. Credit: Pamela Raith

A Little Life

Savoy, London

29^th July 2023, matinee

 

‘How hard it is to keep alive

someone who doesn't want to stay alive’

 

Hanya Yanagihara’s best-selling and immensely popular 2015 novel A Little Life is not without its controversies. Having been accused of touting ‘torture porn’ amongst other criticisms, Yanagihara’s story is not for the faint-hearted, but is in reality, so much more than the sensationalist headlines suggest. It seems fitting that such a divisive novel has been adapted for the stage by one of theatre’s most divisive directors, Ivo van Hove. The director harnesses his signature style of heightened realism combined with some very striking imagery to create a vivid production that is (in some cases literally) an assault on the senses.

The plot focuses on four college friends as they navigate the ups and downs of life in New York City. Malcolm comes from a privileged but distant family and aspires to be a master architect, JB is a bolshy but talented painter, and Willem is a passionate, kind-hearted struggling actor. At the centre of the group lies the enigmatic Jude: a sweet natured and quiet man whose traumatic childhood haunts his adult life. Through the relationship between these friends and the other important people that come into and out of their lives, the play explores a spectrum of emotional intensity and poses the question ‘what is a life worth?’.

As a lover of the book I could mourn the loss of certain characters (Harold’s wife Julia being perhaps the most sorely missed) or rue the way certain storylines have been side-lined (Malcolm and JB are more secondary here), however van Hove, Koen Tachelet and Yanagihara have done a great job of retaining and, in some ways, enhancing the essence of the book without having to sacrifice too much of the detail. Even while clocking in at a whopping 4 hours, the creative team have condensed the 700+ page tome into a play that feels streamlined yet also has a wonderful way of allowing individual moments to breathe. This is particularly evident in van Hove’s use of music; whether it be the live string quartet that empathetically underscore the action, Jude’s quietly reflective classical singing, or the devastating moment of uninhibited joy in which Jude and Willem dance to Arcade Fire’s ‘Wake Up’.

Van Hove similarly builds an authentic relationship with the audience by peppering the stage with ‘real-life’ action. Before the play begins characters congregate on stage to cook bacon and eggs, the aroma filling the auditorium, and throughout the performance background goings-on include characters cooking appetisers and elaborate puddings, painting, reading and cleaning. This domestic realism helps us to invest in the action and makes the painful aspects of the story even more shocking. The violence on show is horrific and deeply upsetting, and that’s before even considering the gory nature of the special effects used (we had a least 2 fainters and one show-stop at the performance we attended).

While it’s easy to focus on the physical and psychological trauma on display – yes, there are gruelling scenes of sexual assault, sadism and self-harm – it’s also important to note that through the course of the evening we are also privy to the most intimate facets of the characters’ inner emotional selves; we share their happiness, grief, anger and guilt, in all their enriching and contradictory complexities. I would argue that above all, A Little Life is a story about love – platonic love, parental love, romantic love, self-love – whether it be pure, muddied or elusive, and that is what makes the novel, and now the play, so enduringly touching.

The cast bring to life Yanagihara’s characters with ease and cultivate a company-wide chemistry that is unmatched by any other show in the West End at present. Luke Thompson is instantly likeable as the affable Willem and Omari Douglas’s JB hits just the right balance between passion and petulance. The always impressive Zubin Varla gives a gravity laden and soulful performance as Jude’s adoptive father, Harold, and carries the weight of the final moments of the play with tremendous feeling, while Elliot Cowan’s portrayal of the monsters lurking in Jude’s past is every bit as chilling and hateful as you could hope for. Yet, for many James Norton’s tireless performance is the real highlight. Never off-stage, Norton plumbs the depths of every raw emotion, every animalistic instinct known to man, yet he imbues Jude with a beautiful air of gentle dignity, even during his lowest moments. I defy anyone to watch Norton in action here and remain unmoved, not least for the sheer dedication he shows to the role.

Jan Versweyveld’s set is almost a character in its own right.  Deceptively economic yet immersive, hospital beds emerge from the wells, a fully working kitchen acts as a hub for the action, and Versweyveld’s video projections provide a fascinating insight into Jude’s psyche. Playing constantly throughout the performance, seamless video tours through the streets of NYC subtly speed up, slow down, lose and gain colour, and crackle with static depending on the Jude’s state of mind. While it could be argued that van Hove can perhaps be over-reliant on video in his previous ventures, I felt that here it is entirely justified without ever becoming a distraction.

When this production was first announced I had my doubts about whether an adaptation would be able to do justice to Yanagihara’s extraordinary novel. However, these doubts have been completely quashed after seeing the show. I laughed, I raged, I winced, I cried (and cried, and cried) and I am still thinking about what I watched nearly a week later. A lot of care and attention has been poured into this production and it deserves every success that comes its way.

 

A Little Life plays at the Savoy Theatre until 5^th August, followed by a nation-wide cinema screening on 28^th September 2023.

For more information please visit: https://alittlelifeplay.com/ 

Zach Wyatt, Luke Thompson and James Norton
in A Little Life. 
Credit: Jan Versweyveld

RIDE

 

Curve, Leicester

10^th July, 2023

“10,000 miles away from Boston, but I’m home”

Freya Catrin Smith and Jack Williams’ new musical about Annie Londonderry, the first woman to ever cycle around the world, first performed pre-lockdown, has gained a cult popularity through word-of-mouth and now embarks on a new outing at Curve, before playing the Southwark Playhouse Elephant. Some gutsy performances and playfully expansive narrative bolster this neat little chamber musical.

It’s 1895 and Annie Londonderry (Liv Andrusier) has returned to America, confident following her victorious venture around the world. The set up has Annie pitching her story, and perhaps more importantly, herself, to an offstage group of editors for a newspaper publication. She is aided in her narration by the admiring but reserved secretary, Martha (Katy Ellis), who takes on a miscellany of roles with increasing assuredness, ranging from a French Border Control worker, to an Oxford Don, a lonely Harvard Academic, and even Annie herself.

The show’s title song is a hymn to the new freedoms brought by the bicycle. Everyday people were afforded the prospect of travel, of possibility, of female liberation, and, for Annie, an escape from painful memories at home: “a different state of mind… take a road that has no end”. Taking up a wager that could net her an unprecedented $10,000, Annie has a wobbly start to her mission and much publicity from the doubting US press. The zippy songs fling facts at us in quick succession, eg. once a door-to-door advertisement seller, Annie becomes sponsored by “every goddam business in the USA” from funeral directors to rat poison in a bid to raise $5,000 during her trek as part of the wager. We subsequently rattle through country after country at whirlwind speed, with months of the journey condensed into short monologues or songs - an amusing section of ‘Out Of Time’ speeds through Annie’s increasing discontent travelling through Asia; ‘I get no joy from Hanoi!’.

Just as Annie educates her international audiences on the road, Smith and Williams present a history lesson peppered with many fanciful moments. The audience is well aware that Annie is fond of bending the truth – as showcased in the toe-tapping ‘Everybody Loves a Lie’ - and she and Martha even have a brief debate about what constitutes ‘reality’ and ‘truth’. While I won’t spoil any of the narrative twists resulting from this fact-fudging, I enjoyed the way the creative team use this theme to play with the structure of the piece. Using Martha to embody the various characters Annie meets is a great way of playing on the reality vs pretence of theatrical and storytelling traditions. Just as we’re never quite sure about Annie’s stories, we’re never quite sure where the line lies between Martha and the character she is playing.

Amy Jane Cook’s design deftly encapsulates the piece, the old-timey editor’s office evokes a very specific time and place which later unfolds into wide, dreamy expanses of foreign lands, the perfect stage upon which Annie’s recollections and fantasies play out. The condensed nature of the musical means that RIDE lives or dies on its central performances, and thankfully here both are exceptional. Andrusier gives a star-making performance as Annie; initially full of bravado and broad Bostonian sass, her mask gradually slips and the character becomes more and more unsure of herself. While in an arguably less showy role, Ellis more than holds her own against Andrusier, instilling Martha with a bumbling likability that is occasionally lacking in our protagonist. The two actors have great chemistry, highlighted in the charming love song ‘Miles Away From Boston’, and effortlessly captivate the audience for the solid 90-minute run time.

Smith, Williams and director, Sarah Meadows, have triumphed in creating an endearing original musical which focuses on issues of feminism, class, wealth and race without ever feeling preachy. Similarly, when isolated, the story has the potential to run the risk of being merely ‘quaint’, however, the strength of the central character, the knowingly playful structure and some top-notch performances make this a memorable show thanks to its inherently theatrical take on a neglected yet unforgettable feminist icon.

 

RIDE plays at Curve, Leicester until 15^th July before playing at Southwark Playhouse Elephant from 19^th July to 12^th August. For more information, please visit https://www.curveonline.co.uk/whats-on/shows/ride/

Liv Andrusier in RIDE
Credit: Danny Kaan

About Us

Adam and Jasmine have been writing about theatre for Not Exactly Billington since 2012. Both students of English Literature and Drama, Adam started the blog in 2012 as a hobby to keep a record of the growing variety of theatre he was seeing. Jasmine joined a few years later, and the two now share writing responsibilities. Sometimes they take turns writing reviews, sometimes they collaborate. Below are some of their thoughts on why they write and what they hope to achieve with the blog:

 

Both Leicester born and bred, we have been championing the arts in Leicester, East Midlands and around the UK for over a decade. We love writing about theatre and have written reviews for a range of shows: from Shakespeare in Stratford-upon-Avon, to Sondheim at the National Theatre; from new writing at the Royal Court, to musicals on Broadway; from productions made at Leicester’s Curve, Sheffield’s Crucible and Northampton’s Royal & Derngate, to shows touring the UK.

We aim for our approach to be thoughtful, creative, honest and insightful. We have a passion for the theatrical canon and like to place our reviews in their historical/performance context. We also aim for consistency with the quality of our reviews. There’s so much creativity, passion, talent, intelligence and pure graft that goes into every decision of what we see on stage. We hope to do justice by capturing those efforts in our writing.

We’re grateful to occasionally receive comp tickets from theatres around the UK in exchange for a review. Other than that, much of the theatre we review is done for our own enjoyment, and our blog is subsequently ad-free. Ultimately, we feel that a review’s purpose should be to capture the feeling of what it’s like to be in the audience. ‘Writing letters to posterity’, as Tynan put it. It’s surely an almost impossible task. But theatre criticism is a practice and with each review we hope to continue contributing to an exciting, eclectic and thriving blogging community.

Groundhog Day

 Old Vic, London

10^th June, 2023, matinee

“I thought the only way to better days was through tomorrow”

To see a musical about being stuck in winter on the hottest day of the year seems fitting. Tim Minchin and Danny Rubin’s Olivier-award winning Groundhog Day (2016) returns to the Old Vic this summer along with its Olivier-winning star Andy Karl as self-centred weatherman Phil Connors. In a recent NY Times article looking forward to this year’s Tony Awards, Jesse Green argued that for two decades the winner of Best Musical has often been fought between the smallish, honed off-Broadway sweethearts versus blow-the-roof-off, made-for-Broadway hits. As a case in point, at Sunday evening’s ceremony Kimberly Akimbo won over this year’s blowouts Some Like It Hot and New York, New York. Groundhog Day defies such categorisation. It’s true that it has plenty of big songs, spectacle and, as you’d expect from its source material (the 1993 Hollywood comedy), it’s hilarious. But beneath that, perhaps unlike many screen-to-stage musicals, it mines complex emotions. It’s easy to bring out lazy adjectives when reviewing, but the result is a theatrical triumph: a musical about being stuck (metaphorically and otherwise), transformation, and practicing better ways to be.

It’s February 2^nd and Phil Connors is once again sent to Punxsutawney, PA to report on the annual tradition of a groundhog (“Is it a squirrel, is it a beaver? Kinda both but not quite either”) predicting whether the town will face six more weeks of winter or enjoy an early spring. Neither answer can deter the perpetual cheeriness of the locals. ‘Small Town, USA’ pits their small-town idealism against his big-shot cynicism. It sets the scene brilliantly and introduces us to Minchin’s lyrical dexterity (“Watercolours of bucolic vistas painted by octogenarian spinsters”). Trapped there by a snowstorm, Phil wakes up the next day (and the 10,000 following that) back on Groundhog Day. The show then follows Phil through the various stages of this nightmare: his horror of being stuck in the sticks, his joy at the realisation he faces no consequences, his depression that he’ll seemingly never escape this world, and his eventual enlightenment of how he can become the best version of himself.

The score is unmistakably Minchin: perceptive, mischievous, hilarious, subversive. In one song (‘If I Had My Time Again’) in which Rita imagines what she would do if she was in Phil’s predicament, her well-intentioned tropes and metaphors about starting afresh contrast with Phil’s blunt honesty: the line “I once masturbated seven times… in the bath… in one evening” is particularly memorable. Elsewhere, ‘Stuck’ satirises an endless line of experts practicing alternative medicine. From jaunty, upbeat numbers to melodies that just bathe over you, Minchin also goes deeper and darker than most dare. Tormented by this “everlasting farcical disaster”, ‘Hope’ sees Phil commit suicide multiple times. It’s a superb gravelly rock ballad filled with pathos and also a perfect theatrical metaphor. Its staging also features brilliant illusions by Paul Kieve.

Danny Rubin’s book and Minchin’s score marry well together. At times, there are whole scenes within songs, the music advancing both plot and character. In ‘One Day’, we see Rita (Tanisha Spring, brilliant) long for her dream man whilst Phil repeatedly fails to woo her. Karl is just as mesmerising as he was in 2016, arrogant yet likeable as he traverses the entire spectrum of human emotion. Each ensemble character is drawn with care and portrayed in detail too. In the second act’s opening number ‘Being Nancy’, Eve Norris explores the inner life of a character written solely to be Phil’s collateral. Yet it’s dramaturgically fitting that the moments when he’s being honest and enjoying the moment produce the purest, simplest songs (‘Everything About You’ and ‘Seeing You’). There’s a brilliant line ‘Everything About You’ where Phil sings “if you knew how deep my shallowness goes you’d be shocked”. It sums up an outward sheen and bravado that conceals a deeper density of character. And the humble power ‘Seeing You’ yields is immense. As the music swells, and the ensemble embrace the snow, it’s exhilarating, euphoric, and brilliantly satisfying.

Matthew Warchus’ production is like a rollercoaster as February 2^nd is acted out again and again in increasing speed. Rob Howell’s colourful design features marching bands with Gobbler’s Knob banners and a groundhog on a drumkit. And in the rockabilly infused ‘Nobody Cares’, stop signs and houses fly across the stage as the police chase Phil down some train tracks. His design has been simplified from its first iterance. Notably, the complex concentric circles revolve has gone. While I miss some of this original staging, it hopefully makes touring the show much easier (fingers crossed) and liberates Warchus' staging. Other than that, the show remains much the same as it was in 2016. Eagle-eared fans may spot “My doctor said one day my heart will stop beatin’ unless I cut down on that cheesin’” replacing the previous rhyme of “tickin’” and “chicken”.

A whimsical study of inertia, Groundhog Day is a transcendental journey through human morality in all its splendour, despondent lows and incandescent highs. Bring out the superlatives and the expletives, Groundhog Day is a five-star hit! I hope we don’t have to wait another seven years before we can see it again.

Groundhog Day plays at the Old Vic until 19^th August. For further information, please visit https://www.oldvictheatre.com/stage/event/groundhog-day

Andy Karl and the company of Groundhog Day. Credit: Manuel Harlan

Hamnet

Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon

27^th May, 2023

“What is ‘Quintessence’?”

For over 407 years Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets have entertained, educated and beguiled audiences and readers the world over, yet much of the man himself is still a mystery. From the Oscar-winning Shakespeare in Love to Ben Elton’s broad sitcom Upstart Crow, fictionalised versions of the Bard have posited the question that experts and laymen alike have perpetually sought answers; ‘how much of the man, his life and those surrounding him, inspired the great works?’. It is human nature to want to empathise, and to seek parallels between fact and fiction, and Lolita Chakrabarti’s adaptation of Maggie O’Farrell’s bestselling novel Hamnet offers perhaps the most poignant interpretation of the man yet.

Yet, to say that this is a play about Shakespeare is to do it disservice, as the spotlight is steadfastly focused on William’s wife, Agnes Hathaway (an earnest and mighty Madeleine Mantock), and their children. Agnes is earthy, yet spiritual, having an affinity with nature and an intuitiveness that leaves locals accusing her of witchcraft. ‘I feel more than now’ she says at one point. She meets eighteen-year-old William Shakespeare (a puppyish Tom Varey) in her family’s apple store, he on a break from tutoring her younger brothers. The connection is instant and when Agnes falls pregnant the couple hastily marry, much to the chagrin of their families.

O’Farrell and Chakrabarti’s narrative spans decades, as we watch the Shakespeare family grow alongside William’s burgeoning career as a writer. However, his move to London to pursue his calling leaves Agnes to raise their three children alone. Soon enough, disaster strikes as young Judith (Alex Jarrett) contracts the plague. Agnes refuses medical help, instead leaning on her intricate knowledge of natural remedies. Meanwhile, Judith’s twin brother, Hamnet (Ajani Cabey) watches from the rafters as his beloved sister grows ever weaker. The plot takes a sudden turn, when the untimely death of Hamnet shakes the family to the core and Agnes is unable to understand her distant husband’s reluctance to mourn.

Chakrabarti and director Erica Whyman draw a nice contrast between the more comedic scenes featuring the Lord Chamberlain’s Men rehearsing in London, and the domestic, bucolic and graveness of those set in Stratford-upon-Avon. The rift between the central couple becomes starker through this tonal juxtaposition. Tom Piper makes great use of the Swan Theatre’s timber in a simple but evocative set. Rafter beams form attic bedrooms and haylofts while also echoing the gabled houses of Tudor England and the boards of the Globe theatre.

I think this story in all its guises is so successful because the audience and reader can relate to the family drama at its centre. At times we forget we are watching a play about the most famous playwright in history; the creative team make an elusive yet ubiquitous figure a being of flesh and blood, and, even more impressive, they make him a side-character to the markedly more heroic Agnes! For example, the play focuses on the almost feral nature of the mother/child bond. When Agnes flees home to give birth in the woods it feels like a natural – universal – calling for her, and the moment loses all baseness and reminds us of the beautifully physical, earthy and animalistic instinctiveness that connects mother and baby on a deeply molecular level.

Likewise, O’Farrell and Chakrabarti also explore the unique relationship between twins, with Hamnet’s death taking on an ethereal aspect as he seemingly sacrifices himself to save his sister; just as the siblings fool their family and friends by swapping clothes and identities, so too do they trick death. The third example of the triptych of familial relationships under the microscope, is, of course, that of husband and wife. The shared happiness, the conflicts, the secrets. The concluding scene, in which a distraught Agnes covertly watches an early performance of Hamlet, is one of such luminescence it changes not only the way we view the couple, the way we view their grief, but also the way we view Shakespeare’s work in general. Certain lines from that play will never sound the same again.

It was a treat to see Hamnet performed in the heart of Shakespeare’s hometown, just meters away from the historic setting of the story. Chakrabarti has done a wonderful job of translating O’Farrell’s heady novel into a linear narrative that stirs the emotions and pays tribute to an unsung hero of literary history.

Hamnet plays at the Swan Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon until 17th June. It then transfers to the Garrick Theatre, London from 30^th September 2023 – 6^th January 2024. For more information please visit: https://www.rsc.org.uk/Hamnet

 

Tom Vary (William) and Madeleine Mantock (Agnes) in Hamnet. Credit: Manuel Harlan

 

Unexpected Twist

 Curve, Leicester

8^th June, 2023

“This is my life, and I’m resigned to it”

James Dacre’s tenure at Northampton’s Royal & Derngate comes to an end this season. During his decade as Artistic Director, he’s developed the theatre as a major producing house, marked by a diverse, innovative repertoire. He’s programmed stellar productions of European and regional premieres (Our Lady of Kibeho, Rules for Living), revivals of modern classics (Blue/Orange, Two Trains Running), and vibrantly theatrical adaptations of novels (The Lovely Bones). His last show before stepping down is a new stage adaptation of Michael Rosen’s 2018 novel Unexpected Twist alongside The Children’s Theatre Partnership. Inspired by Oliver Twist, Rosen transposes Dickens’ story to contemporary Britain complete with beatboxing, iPhones and county line gangs.

Following her mother’s death and her father being laid-off from work, young Shona (Drew Hylton) has moved from bedsit to bedsit, and constantly worries about debts owed and the cost of everyday necessities. When Shona arrives at her new school she is thrown into the world of Dickens’ Oliver Twist by well-meaning English teacher, Miss Cavani (Rosie Hilal). While her peers scoff at the old-fashioned language, Shona is shaken by the similarities between her life and those of Dickens’ fictional workhouse. These similarities extend to the people around her, with figures such as Shona’s Nan, her new friend Tino and the local drug kingpin, Pops, paralleling the characters of Fagin, the Artful Dodger and Bill Sikes. When, tempted by the promise of a state-of-the-art phone she could never normally afford, Shona gets lured into Pops’ circle of drug trafficking and money laundering she faces difficult questions relating to crime, socio-economic justice and identity.

Rory Beaton’s dramatic lighting lifts the grey school lockers and wooden climbing frames of Frankie Bradshaw’s set using colourful LEDs and well-placed spotlights. Bradshaw also excels at bringing to life the characters of Dickens’ novel, the rich Victorian-era costumes contrast nicely with the drab greyness of modern-day London. I particularly enjoyed the moments in the play where the two worlds merge together, most impressively realised in the Noah Claypole interrogation scene. The image of the ghostly Noah looming eerily over Shona/Oliver, goading them, is a menacingly dramatic moment.

While Rosen and Roy Williams draw analogies with broad strokes, one can hardly criticise them for moralising in the current political climate. Unexpected Twist is not subtle in the way it hammers home issues such as childhood poverty and domestic violence, but this is justified by the bombast and energy with which the piece is performed and directed by Dacre. Yaya Bey and Conrad Murray’s music – a mix of Grime, RnB and Soul - is impressively performed by the cast (completely acapella!) and features some really melodic tunes. A slight grapple is that the songs sometimes dominate the action, and occasionally feel like excess padding, but it’s testament to the talent involved and Rosen’s inspiration that the songs excel in advancing character. Ultimately, this production is a commendable attempt to get younger generations interested and invested in both literature and politics.

Unexpected Twist plays at Curve, Leicester until 10^th June. For further information, please visit https://unexpectedtwistonstage.co.uk/#header

Drew Hylton and the company of Unexpected Twist. Credit: Manuel Harlan