Cindy Marcolina - Page 9

Rafaella Marcus pinpoints the eternal bisexual struggle in Sap, which has come to London after a starry sell-out run at Edinburgh Fringe last year. She explores prejudice and stereotype, fetishisation and biphobia through a precise commentary wrapped into a viscerally poetic tale. When Daphne lies by omission, she accidentally and nonconsensually enters a dark, twisted game.

Doran’s latest book gives a revelatory and revolutionary breakdown of the canon in a way that works for both the professional and uninitiated.

After having her run at VAULT Festival rudely interrupted by the pandemic three years ago, Alexandra Donnachie is currently touring her self-penned one-woman-show When We Died. It’s the touching confessional of a woman who normalises death and finally finds the solace she needs to move on. Directed by Andy Routledge, the piece is permeated by a quiet heartbreak on a white clinical set.

Silvio Berlusconi. Il Cavaliere, the knight. Entrepreneur, television mogul, right-wing leader. Famous for his scandals, fraudulent deals, chummy attitudes with despots and other questionable figures. Cruise ship singer. Laughing stock and controversial political powerhouse.

Set on a housing estate in South London, the piece sees two brothers being sent out to the shops by their mother. Yemi was born and raised in England while Ikudayisi has just moved from Nigeria.

Jordan Harrison’s 2015 Pulitzer Prize finalist is a reflection on mortality that doesn’t dare to go into the depths of the matter. It ends up being rather stagnant philosophically and anthropologically, but Dominic Dromgoole’s latest production is a delicate take. Running at 85 minutes on paper but around 70 in reality, the piece’s greatly sophisticated performances and sleek look save it from its redundant nature.

Running at around 50 minutes, it’s snappy and positively Gen-Z in pace and subject. Fernandes crafts a script that wanders from deliciously colloquial to slightly expository, but remains solid throughout.

While the writing is gripping and Gabrielle Nellis-Pain’s performance is excellent, there’s something missing. Catherine’s colleagues are ancient ghosts through the hallowed corridors as she puts on a sleazy, raspy voice to portray them against her well-spoken main character.

You are going to die. It’s a certainty, but it’s also the title of the latest play by This is Not Culturally Significant writer Adam Scott-Rowley. Performed entirely naked, You Are Going To Die is a show about everything and nothing. You can read as much or as little as you wish in it. What does it deal with? We’d love to know - we came out of it with more questions than answers. It feels like a social experiment or an impenetrable piece of performance art. It might just be simply throwing stuff at a wall to see what sticks.

Coin Toss Collective are an exceptionally creative young company. Freak Out! highlights a problem that wouldn’t cross the mind of the average British person who lives in the inland. They deliver an amusing, chaotic farewell to East Anglia. Who would’ve thought that a show about coastal erosion would be so cool!

Laura Mead writes with prudish humour while Keith Swainston directs her, Ned Wakeley (Dan), and Scott Henderson in a production that’s almost as uninteresting as Katie and Dan’s sex life. Mead’s script is as traditional as the missionary position, but wishes to be as funny as an inappropriate joke at a funeral. She gives her character a silver tongue and wit for days, and she’s great at delivering too, but the plot is awkwardly stale in its predictability.

This approach has the story losing focus and looks like a plain attempt at quirkiness. Ultimately, while they mention how difficult it is to have only one hour, the piece comes off as struggling to fill those 60 minutes. All in all, the spirit of Burnout is strong and the creatives behind it have all the right ideas. Perhaps a stronger grasp on a more developed plot might help this naive call to arms.

The Messiah Complex is a fascinating exploration of dystopian philosophy and intellectual restrictions. Alexander Knott, James Demaine, and Ryan Hutton devise a piece with clearly defined lore and logic. It’s a bold provocation of Orwellian stature.

In 45 minutes, Brace doesn’t have any answers to Ace’s uncertainties, but his queries aim the spotlight at a subject that still isn’t staged much. He gives a profound insight into the doubts and tribulations of growing up with platonic feelings and sexual confusion. It’s a heartwarming, touching coming-of-age story.

After Hitler’s death and the German defeat, the Führer’s top nuclear scientists are being held in the English countryside while the Pacific continues. With nothing to do but read redacted newspapers, skim through familiar books, and write censored letters, the six men wallow in their boredom, unaware that they’re being recorded.

It’s a show about everything and nothing, with comic patterns that are so deliciously millennial and referential that a lack of contextual knowledge from the audience destroys its outcome. When the pieces fit together, however, your cheeks will be sore from laughing for an hour straight. They’re unafraid to overdo all of it, resulting in effectively caustic observations on the entertainment industry and how its advocacy is ultimately a self-serving sham.

“How do you raise a son?” is the leitmotif question that runs through Olugbeminiyi Bammodu’s one-man play. He is John, a second-generation Nigerian in the UK, who was raised by a mother who loved her two sons and daughter evenly but differently and a father who treated his brother to days out while he stayed home baking.

The piece interrogates the very core of our existence, bringing up a line-up of themes that are as thought-provoking as they are difficult to explore in 75 minutes. Lateral reflections on the limitation of free will and the ethics of choosing euthanasia sit side by side with an interesting view of the simulation of consciousness and questions on the rapid improvement of AI technology. In a world where ChatGPT is querying the purpose of human input, it’s all quite timely, but Good Day ultimately doesn’t analyse its arguments.

Meyler’s empathetic style has the capacity to make this a polished drama filled with escapism. Her writing has a bittersweet vein, vividly depicting how real-life expectations can mar and taint the power of imagination. It would be interesting to see Kites focus more on the character’s reality and how Irish history comes into play as they bury their feelings for one another and they plunge into melancholic disillusionment.

Gush is an unassuming comedy with big stand-up vibes until its real nature is revealed. The show takes an abrupt u-turn right before the end, unveiling the writer’s plea. Will Armstrong directs with explosive energy, leaning into the initial weakness of the narrative and juxtaposition between Neil’s cheeriness and the dramatic sound design.