Cindy Marcolina - Page 4

Days are getting longer, nights are warmer, and we have a brand new musical romantic comedy premiering in East London. Written by the creators of the phenomenon that was the podcast My Dad Wrote A Porno, Jamie Morton and James Cooper, with music by Bryn Christopher and Martin Batchelar, Lovestuck is a relatable, cute musical guide for modern dating with only one flaw. Why did Lucy end up stuck upside down in a window after her date with Peter? The answer is more complicated than you might think.

“We’ll do the raffle in about half an hour, but first we’ll play a few songs if that’s alright?” One foot on stage and the mood is set. What would ensue is over two hours and a half of spitfire banter and fire tunes. It’s rare for performers to be found anywhere on nights when their theatres are dark, but Fraser took over Cadogan Hall for a rare solo concert whilst off from his West End run of The Deep Blue Sea. It was the “delayed launch gig” that he teased when we spoke to him in February. Self-effacing from the get-go, he went on to sing prime choices from all three studio recordings of his, noticing leitmotifs in the themes and delighting the audience with surprise guests.

It was only February when we headed to Stratford-upon-Avon to review Hamlet, so it comes as quite the surprise to head through green fields speckled with sheep for the same play a mere four months later. Elsinore might have been a massive moving ship back then, but it’s receiving an astonishing overhaul this time.

Miss Myrtle’s garden is an oasis caught in the jaws of gentrification. As her mind starts to go, her grandson Rudy moves in with his “friend” and prods her for answers about their shared past. The generational gap is an abyss of doubt, but is that what’s making it hard for her grandson to be open about his life? Danny James King writes a sophisticated exploration of memory, grief, and identity, which, directed by Taio Lawson (the Bush Theatre’s incoming Artistic Director), becomes a touching, beautiful piece of theatre. King surrounds the stigma of dementia with lots of breathing space rooted in the unsaid, sweetening uncomfortable truths with surprising circumstantial humour. A finely tuned balance is set up: though frankly hilarious at times, the show bottles up that unbearable wave of sadness you get when you see an old person sitting by themselves.

Based on Sarah Ruhl’s eponymous 2018, the stage adaptation of Letters from Max is downright harrowing. It follows her correspondence with a brilliant former student of hers, Max Ritvo, whose sudden cancer recurrence in his early 20s echoes in Ruhl’s life. As the pair discuss illness and artistry, the real power of the poet comes into focus.

Back in 2023, the Royal Shakespeare Company celebrated the 400th anniversary of the publication of the First Folio with a national playwriting competition. From over 2000 entries, 37, spanning all genres, were picked. Readings for the winning plays were held through the autumn of that year and subsequent productions have been popping up here and there ever since. Nancy Netherwood’s Radiant Boy now landing at Southwark Playhouse directed by Júlia Levai. The writer’s professional debut takes us back to the 80s in North-East of England, where it is believed that a young man is possessed. Back home from studying at King’s College Choir in London, he and his mother keep their friction at bay while they wait for Father Miller to arrive. Can they redeem Russell’s spiritual health? And what is it that’s haunting him exactly?

Dying crops, a community in distress, scandals, affairs, Shucked was hailed as the pinnacle of musical comedy when it premiered in 2022. With a book by Robert Horn (writer of Tootsie and the stage adaptation of Disney’s Hercules, to mention a few credits), plus music and lyrics by country songwriters Brandy Clark and Shane McAnally, Jack O’Brien’s production lands in Regent’s Park for its UK premiere after a handful of wins and a Grammy nod too. The show might be an easy giggle, ready to charm with puns galore and a corny score, but it's shuckingly mid. Every inch is tropey and formulaic, with quips that are either the low-hanging cob or the most extravagant sexual innuendo, missing the sophistication of well-calibred humour altogether. It has plenty of moments of brilliance and the company is overwhelmingly excellent, but the material isn’t as dazzling.

Plays like The Fifth Step don't come around often. Those whose layered philosophical exoskeleton props up their own dramatic contradictions in quietly superb theatre. At its core, though less pure black comedy and more complex introspective drama coated in dark irony than what you’d expect from David Ireland, it has that delicious push-and-pull that only Ireland can write. It’s a potluck of themes. Alcoholism, recovery, resentment, masculinity, spirituality, family, class, what-have-you populate a play that’s as tense as it is caustic.

Laith’s parents have survived unimaginable atrocities in order to save themselves and give him a better chance, yet he struggles. This exploration of the personal consequences of the Arab diaspora cracks open the constant compromising of immigrant children. Emily Ling Williams directs Tommy Sim’aan in Laith Elzubaidi’s tender, amusing, and thoroughly thought-provoking award-winning solo play. It’s a funny, politically charged tearjerker.

Sam is a football-loving, tomboyish young woman with a lifetime of fun ahead of her. That’s until a violent accident on the pitch puts an end to the carefree part of her youth. All of a sudden, she is ruled by a mercurial new enemy, Annie the aneurysm, who threatens to burst at all times. Gone are the days of taking footballs square in the face. Faced with the choice of getting a risky surgery or leaving Annie to her own devices, Sam Ipema ponders the moments that change the trajectory of your story in a remarkable multimedia production directed by James Meteyard.

There won’t be any big road movie for Samantha Brown. There could have been, but there won’t. Not after her brazen best friend, Kelly, died unexpectedly. As she sits on the hood of Kelly’s old faithful, she ponders her limbo: stay back and watch life pass her by with an overly protective mum and high school sweetheart by her side, or set off on the grand adventure she’d planned with Kelly. Right at the edge of adulthood, Sam revisits the past year, wishing it had been ordinary and uneventful, and makes a decision. The Mad Ones (formerly known as The Unauthorized Autobiography of Samantha Brown in the 2010s) is a sweet contemporary musical with a heart of gold. Directed by Emily Susanne Lloyd and designed by Reuben Speed, Kait Kerrigan and Bree Lowdermilk’s revisited coming-of-age and anti-Kerouac story is a touching mid-weight exploration of bereavement. 

This production is a treat. Einkvan (Everyman) is a play about connection, humanity, and intimacy. Written by Jon Fosse – the most performed Norwegian playwright after Ibsen and winner of the Nobel Prize in 2023 – it’s a haunting, longing journey. The search for compassion and kinship unfolds through parents who try to relate to their sons, to no avail. Blending dramatic practice with contemporary art and live footage, it’s very experimental, very European, and very peculiar. Directed by Kjersti Horn and presented in the original Norwegian with surtitles, it’s a deliciously highbrow, yet raw, experience.

Divisive and challenging, Tim Crouch is a one-in-a-century playwright. Whether you agree with his methods or not, his artistry is unmatched. He interrogates form and style, delivering live experiences rather than straight drama. An Oak Tree is still a pivotal piece for many. Now celebrating the 20th anniversary of the play, Crouch invites one unrehearsed actor to perform with him each night.

Mark O’Halloran’s Irish Times Award-winning play follows a woman’s sexual escapades over the course of a year. Protected by anonymity, she and her bed guests drop their guard alongside their clothes, demanding nothing more than each other’s body. Being shrouded in mystery allows for a profound level of connection. Nameless negotiations and eager acceptance develop inside liberated vignettes where intimacy briefly bridges the gap between strangers. Characters open up freely, detailing heartache, bereavement, and loss, reaping the benefits of not being known, but trying at the same time to be loved. Uncomplicated sex becomes the counterpart of a complicated life. With a London premiere directed by Jess Edwards with natural ease, it’s a shame Conversations After Sex suffers from severe woman-written-by-a-man syndrome.

It’s 1983 and beloved author Roald Dahl is about to release The Witches. Snobbish and short-tempered, he’s currently under scrutiny for the antisemitic language he used in a book review that spoke against Israel’s murderous invasion of Lebanon. Collected in his childhood kitchen are Dahl, his wife-to-be Felicity, and his publisher Tom Maschler. They’re waiting for a sales executive sent by Dahl’s American publisher in order to compel him to retract and apologise. His piece didn’t go down well in the States and his numbers are now at stake. Directed by Nicholas Hytner, Mark Rosenblatt’s playwriting debut has rinsed most of the awards found in British theatre at this point. The playwright has received two nods at the Critics’ Circle Theatre Awards last month as well as an Olivier, while John Lithgow and Directed by Nicholas Hytner, Mark Rosenblatt’s playwriting debut has rinsed most of the awards found in British theatre at this point. The playwright received two nods at the Critics’ Circle Theatre Awards last month as well as an Olivier, while John Lithgow and Elliot Levey bagged the acting categories at the latter. It deserves every ounce of praise. Giant is timely. It’s sophisticated. It’s complex. It’s nuanced. It’s everything an excellent play should be. Each side of the argument is so passionate and eloquent, yet one, though just, reeks of hatred. At a stage when Kneecap have seen their US visa revoked after speaking out against the Palestinian genocide at Coachella and JK Rowling continues to spew transphobic hate, Giant’s West End transfer is utterly momentous.