Clementine (she/her) is an arts and culture writer and sub-editor. She began writing for BroadwayWorld in 2022 while studying Classics at Oxford, and feels privileged to cover theatre in London, especially theatre centring women's and queer experiences.
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Favorite Show
Sunday in the Park with George. No one quite articulates what it is to write and to create art quite like Sondheim does in this show.
In Prima Facie, former lawyer and playwright Suzie Miller wrote about a lawyer whose faith in her profession is shaken by an experience of sexual assault.
Lifeline is the kind of play that feels as though it was composed with the help of a mindmap with one word circled in the centre, around which all parts of the drama must orbit.
In a staging device that feels made for the cavernous Wilton’s Music Hall, Bibi Simpson as convicted murderer Ruth Ellis addresses the audience with aristocratic authority, a tiny figure within an isolated prison cell.
In the much-cited 2014 book The Body Keeps the Score, the Dutch psychotherapist Bessel van der Kolk wrote of how the human body can be undone and rewired by traumatic experiences.
Sarah McGuinness is best known for her work producing whimsical indie documentaries about the standup comedian Eddie Izzard; in her one-woman show, though, there are only passing references to this.
Park Theatre’s latest double bill presents two recent works from an emerging writer, both centring average queer London lives, and the lengths we’ll go to to present the versions of ourselves we want the world to see.
Somewhere between 20,000 and 300,000 women, mainly from the Korean Peninsula, were trafficked into sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese Army before and during the Second World War: the so-called ‘comfort women’.
George Eliot’s Middlemarch was, and is, radical for its acknowledgement of how society places limits on even the most ambitious and idealistic of its inhabitants.
“Domestic matters are more your domain than mine,” a husband says to his wife in the middle of her working day, echoing a thousand gaslighting, supposedly liberal men who’ve come before and since.
The Tempest is perhaps the most metatheatrical of Shakespeare's plays: the plot takes place in real time, and Prospero asks the audience to “free” him with their applause.
Haven’t we all wanted to have a chat with our inner child at some point? And what if the inner child is not quite as faultless and innocent as we may think?