Cindy Marcolina - Page 41

With many years ahead of the producer’s career, this most definitely won’t be the definitive text on Mackintosh’s tangible contributions to London’s theatres, but it’s a remarkable “the story so far” on a figure who’s as admired as is criticised.

The writer packs it with top-shelf themes. Racism, inequality, unemployment, masculinity, gang culture, social media, street violence, class, education. The failure of a system that should support but only cuts. Sadly, this play isn’t the abundance of richness it could be.

Unfortunately, it all ends up looking like a fake play seen in a movie where the characters go to the theatre to advance the plot or reflect on life. “I cling only to now” George says at the end, but this iteration clings too much to the established reputation of the material to offer anything original.

Philip Ridley writes an atomic bomb of a play and keeps his finger on the release button until Sasha explodes in an earth-shaking climax. Social niceties and typically British politeness masquerade a coarse, brash internal monologue whose quick quips are absolutely annihilating and, frankly, indecently amusing.

Phil Bartlett presents the British première with a sinister wink and eerie humour, but the text is a mismatch of gothic tropes and too unsure of its identity for the production to come together well. It's astonishing how the narrative lack of focus is as prominent as the precision of the direction and technical side of the show is.

Tom Ratcliffe writes and directs a bleak drag comedy on the trappings of modern fame, exploring online relevance, performative activism, and authenticity. He introduces a contemporary anti-hero who quickly learns that audience is currency and who's ready to do what it takes to become viral. Fame Whore is a clever, hilarious play full of personality, populated by pop culture references, and lined with solid social commentary.

The moments of brilliance in the piece are, unfortunately, overshadowed by its nature and the current commodification of trauma portrayals. We rapidly understand what’s going on, but there’s litte appeal and no hook. We keep watching because we want to know how wrong it will go and how hurt she’ll be - which is alarmingly sadistic.

The Theatre Café has been a staple in the West End for years. Theatre memorabilia plaster the walls, musical theatre tunes fill the air, and you can find everything from Phantom Of The Mocha and Defying Gravi-Tea to Putting On The Aperol Spritz and Sir Cameron Macchiato-sh. It’s become the mecca of musical theatre fans. Now, the same team is expanding into a themed diner with singing waiters, new cleverly named cocktails, and a menu that will tickle enthusiasts young and old.

Longurst directs with refreshing accuracy and delicate sophistication, creating visual dynamics that make the space feel immense. It’s simply sublime, mandatory viewing for a lesson on empathy, kindness, and the power of music.

Narratively, the story isn’t anything revolutionary, but Burns’s approach is rich with emotional intelligence and clinical precision. She takes on a crumbling, unfeeling practice ruled by waiting lists and a scorecard, exploring how destructive a lack of (financial, yes, but also psychological) support can be for those for whom support is a profession. It’s a striking debut.

Simon Russell Beale takes on the disgraced mogul, Nicholas Hytner directs. Anna Fleischle designs the show. It’s a winning team, but the piece leaves the audience as cold as a Norwegian winter.

In a society riddled with fake news, that bends over backwards to regulate a woman's body, justifying its laws with a magical book, The Crucible is frighteningly relevant.

Commissioned by Southwark Council, Linda Wilkinson writes a historically accurate account laden with fiction to explore the strings attached to progress. Author Mary Shelley and human rights activist Octavia Hill coexist in this tonally odd piece, playing ghosts in each other’s lives.

Audra McDonald’s name sits right at the centre of the Broadway firmament. A record-breaking performer among the queens of musicals, her cup of talent certainly runneth over.

Addictive Beats is a missed opportunity to attract a younger generation to explore mental health. Sure, the music is crazy cool and the show promises a great vibe, but, as it is, it’s a production that only scrapes the top of its themes but saved a lot of money on seat rental.

Tyler’s trying to get his driver’s licence. Six years after his first attempt, he’s enlisted Max as an instructor. With a reputation as the best in Birmingham and dozens of successful candidates to prove it, he has quite a dictatorial attitude to his lessons. Locked in the cockpit, their initially scratchy exchanges grow into an earnest bond.

The Prince is a weird concept. With a flurry of gender theory and top-notch queerness enveloped by sword fights and iambic pentameter, it’s a refreshingly sacrilegious approach to Shakespeare.

After a virtual ceremony in 2020 and a pandemic-induced silence in 2021, The Stage Debut Awards have finally returned in all their glitz and glamour the day before the State Funeral of Queen Elizabeth II. Stage veterans and shooting starlets gathered to celebrate their debuts and, after a nationwide minute of silence at eight sharp, Susan Wokoma kicked off the festivities.

The new company brings new energy to Matthew Dunster’s production, but the core of the show remains a smashing success.

As directed by Littler, it’s deceivingly traditional on the surface. The staging is rather conventional with its 30s sitting rooms, period furniture, and interwar fashion tying the subject matter to its temporal setting and social class.