Cindy Marcolina - Page 37

Danishman highlights the complex relationship between identity and the necessity of a certain political affiliation. It's not a cheerful show, but it's a rewarding one. 

Quadruple (at a minimum) threat Sam Hooper and composer Robert Tripolino write a scrumptiously macabre play that defies genres and styles. It’s a bleak and uniquely intoxicating cocktail of provocation and allure topped with a cheeky splash of sacrilege. A playful, sophisticated sadism permeates the production until - believe it or not - the narrative turns even more Stygian.

Dian Cathal details the standardised reactionary clichés people fall into when faced with death. He is honest about his guilt and perfectly presents the numb resignation of someone whose exhaustion has taken over. After his mum passes of cancer three years after the ten predicted months, his dad dies of a broken heart and his brother Brian kills himself. It’s a lot. Everything he says is authentic and truthful and absolutely relatable. But there’s nothing more.

A snapshot of class divide that doubles as a melancholic love letter to the city.

It becomes more and more evident that we don’t need the traditional conventions displayed at the beginning. While these are probably meant as a visual juxtaposition against the minimalist, more blunt and hands-on approach of the climax, the start is unnecessary. It nearly drives the show to the ground before it’s even started.

Remi Rachuba moved to Glasgow from Poland in the late 90s to pursue his dreams and become an actor. A bright young man with stars in his eyes, he learns swear words at his teaching job in a special needs school. Mugged twice, he’s left severely traumatised. He constantly looks behind his shoulder for his “intruder”.

Some shows are great even when everything goes wrong. Some shows shine through missed cues, nerves, line prompts, and failing tech. Some shows are simply excellent trainwrecks. Simon David’s Dead Dad Show is one of those. With a personality the size of a football stadium and the effortlessness of a consummate entertainer, he saves his own piece. It could have all gone so very wrong, but it didn’t.

There are some shows that fit perfectly within the walls of The Vaults. Magic is made when old bricks and humidity meet the right production. Expial Atrocious’ Butchered is one of those that feel at home enveloped by the horrid architecture and the rumblings of Waterloo Station. The love child of Sweeney Todd and Hannibal, it’s a grim look at life and death in a dog-eat-dog world.

It’s equally funny and stimulating, opening up a broader conversation about people’s use of foreign cultures and experiences to further their own goals. Wang only gives a taste of the issue in The Lamb Disagrees, but we hope her budding career will explore the subject in more detail.

It’s a missed opportunity to explore young parenthood and the effects of thoughtless actions on a couple.

A vivid exploration of what it means to navigate life as a black woman in England ensues. From playground racism to workplace discrimination, we follow her as she rakes through her memory to find her unresolved trauma and heal from a bad breakup.

Impeccable and efficiently disquieting aesthetics don't lift a content that - while expertly made - is ultimately rather underdeveloped.

A disorientating and disruptive piece that challenges the nature of theatre itself.

This first iteration of the piece is the perfect chance for the material to grow alongside its creatives: the elements of a great production are all there, they just need further polishing.

Bloody Mary: Live! is a joy to watch. The influence of Six is clear as day, from looks to sass, but Miller is unapologetic about it - a trend that continues throughout the hour-long piece. Giving a historical figure the Hamilton treatment isn’t new, but it’s a gift that keeps on giving. “I refuse to be small” Mary says. And, by god, Miller is anything but.

Director Ricky Dukes refocuses the story on the younger characters, exploring their response to the personally catastrophic events in the play. Or so he says. It’s a show sprinkled with fun gimmicks and cool tricks, but it gives a skeletal, feeble, episodic result that completely removes Hamlet from his emotional context.

London’s biggest and most diverse live performance festival is finally back on its feet. Cut short due to the pandemonium of March 2020 and two consecutive years of darkness, VAULT Festival is reopening its doors to audiences and creatives.

This is A Streetcar Named Desire for a new generation. It’s sexy and dangerously seductive, but doesn’t fail to have a firm and uncompromising stance on domestic violence. We’re repulsed by Stanley’s antics, then by Mitch’s. Frecknall’s Streetcar is unmistakably feminist and feminine. She hones Blanche and Stella’s relationship, presenting them in all their dignity and flaws, building a sisterhood marred by the needs and threats of the time.

Lillian Hellman’s play is a time capsule of American non-interventionism under the guise of a comedy of manners that suddenly becomes a historical thriller.

There’s a new queen in town - wait, make that SIX! The most successful musical in a post-Hamilton theatre world has just received a fresh cast change.