An Oak Tree @ Young Vic Theatre

A line of empty chairs. A table upstage with clipboards containing scripts, and some audio equipment. A microphone. These are the simple tools that create the magical and multidimensional world of An Oak Tree. 20 years on, with so many spiderwebs of influence spawning from this singular creation, the looming question is, does this still work?

Indeed it does. A second performer meets Tim Crouch an hour before the performance, for a hello and to ask questions. They wait in the audience for the play to begin. But it has already begun; the world is being spun slightly sideways on its axis, as we see Tim the performer, Tim in character, and Tim the person (arguably Tim the writer is in there somewhere too) gently supporting the other actor in the journey, as they move between spaces and times, in and out of a character they are discovering on the page in front of us — all while never leaving the nearly empty space. When we saw the Young Vic production, the outstanding Adjoa Andoh was the guest performer; a tiny woman with the biggest heart and quickest mind you can imagine. Her imagination raced and took us along with her. Simply watching her imagine spaces that Tim described to her aloud was riveting, and observing her first instinctual read and response to the text was pure and sensational.

Obviously Andoh is an incredible performer, but the opportunity to watch her first interaction with a script, character, and story, in the space created by Tim’s play, is something else. My husband, who is familiar with Crouch’s work was fooled by Tim’s clever script and Adjoa’s intellect into being convinced that surely, movements were directed, responses rehearsed. Indeed they were not. That’s the magic of Crouch’s script; it creates a playground for an intelligent and willing actor to play, laying bare to the process of analysis, creation, and engagement, all right before our eyes.

I feel blessed to have witnessed this evening.

Overshare @ Greenwich Theatre

An ambitious solo performance, Overshare lives both in the world in front of us, and in the online world. Our protagonist comes to us via Instagram live, mediating what we see before our eyes and what we see on screen, with all moments perceived through this duality. The contrast in the way she appears across the two mediums is stark and at times jarring, calling into question our perceptions of what is real in these heavily digitally mediated times.

Struggling with anxiety and depression spurned by a toxic relationship with an older (and married) man, while having never properly recovered from the death of her mother as a small child, we see a woman reaching out for connection but unable to connect when it is in front of her. Simultaneously performing her mania and asking us to agree she is fine, we bear witness (at one moment, quite literally as the camera is turned on the audience).

Darkly funny and heartbreaking, but also calling the audience to the attention of our own inaction — watching the downfall from the safety of our seats. The performance also lives within instagram; if you follow the show, there are ways to interact, and the stream itself can be viewed. It is a production for these times, like few others — truly challenging us to question where and how we interact, just what we think is real; and importantly, what we do about it.

Diagnosis @ Finborough Theatre

Athena Stevens’ new play focusses on a woman who is picked up by police slightly into the future, after an altercation in a bar. The woman who has cerebral palsy and uses a wheelchair (played by Stevens) claims to see things about the people around her, which prompts her to try to warn them before these traumas happen. It’s a little futuristic, positioning the audience as a citizens’ council who bear witness to the video recorded and transcribed interview of a vulnerable citizen. Indeed the slightly outside our current realm but not entirely unbelievable nature of the world of the play is quite intriguing — the way technology is used for us (and at times against us) in the telling of the story is compelling.

The presence of this technology results in a very clever and innovative means of creating a sense of movement and challenging perspective in the small space, using live video editing to create a world we see but the actors do not, further emphasizing the plight of the protagonist.

The script is funny but at the same time upsetting — a delicate balance to strike, which it does quite well. And by centering the story of a vulnerable individual while not making it about their disability, the script and production engage in a meaningful way with representing the stories of individuals who are frequently sidelined.

At a pacy 50 minutes, it is just the right length for the intensity of the moments it creates, really driving the audience to question who and what we believe, and what we bear witness too.

Goner @ Battersea Arts Centre

Goner is a solo dance and theatre piece which mingles cultural references to Black culture in Britain with a horror story. There is music and dance, but also murder. Repetitive dance choreography creates a hypnotic state, and the choices of when we are fully lit vs when we’re plunged into darkness are quite interesting, coupled with overloud sound effects, and lights which are at times so blinding the audience needed to cover their eyes. These choices were intentional, creating a discomfort for the audience and calling attention to our complicity as viewers of the act of performance.

Overall, the piece creates some compelling images and thoughts as it progresses, and in many was is quite aggressive in its overall aesthetic, which is thought provoking, however falls short of quite landing its message. If I’m honest, I can’t quite place my finger on what it was that I felt it was missing to achieve this. That said, it was incredibly well considered and masterfully performed.

Cabaret @ The Kit Kat Club

So first things first — I didn’t get to see Billy Porter. Just my luck to spend a shocking amount on tickets, and it happens to be for his day off.

Now that we’re past that — there is much to like about this production, and in particular, I feel as though having seen Marisha Wallace’s stunning turn as Sally Bowles, I have witness a moment in theatre history.

The production positions itself as immersive, with the renovated Playhouse theatre repositioned as the Kit Kat Club. Audience members enter via the old stage door, into the depths of a basement club where they’re given stickers for their phones (like one does at any good German club…. ) and offered shots of Schnapps as you wander up a dimly lit hallway and find yourself immersed in the club. There are a company of Prelude performers throughout the building, there as you explore the various bars and the renovation of the building to look less like a traditional West End theatre and more like an in-the-round cabaret theatre. The mood is exceptional; it is playful and fun, and really creates a delightful atmosphere.

The first act begins, and what stands out is the willingness of the production to not sanitise the story — to allow this late-Weimar Republic club filled with gender and sexually fluid humans seeking escape, to be its grimy and delightful self. There is a sinister mood, with the Emcee looming, lurking over every moment. When we finally meet Marisha Wallace’s Sally, we’re struck by the pain she is clearly hiding barely below the surface. It is clear she is running, and as the plot progresses she is only running faster, yet going nowhere…stuck in the hedonism and everything that comes with it.

Unfortunately, this incredible setup and the equisite performances are let down by the very artifice that set them up; we break for intermission, and it is just like any other west-end play. The ambience of the bars is gone, the feeling of truly being at the Kit Kat Club dissipated. Throughout the setup and first act I found myself wondering how the production would deal with the end of the play (don’t worry, no actual spoilers in case you somehow haven’t seen it). As we broke for the interval, and then returned for act 2, I hoped that the end would somehow reinvigorate this immersion. Sadly, it did not — in fact, the choices around the final number were almost underwhelming, lacking the bite that it could have had, particularly in light of the rise of fascism in the US.

This all sounds like I was disappointed — I was not, but only for the quality of the performances from the cast, and in particular, Marisha Wallace’s outstanding performance. Her performance of Cabaret could (and should?!) have stopped the show; the agony her character is feeling was chilling, breathtaking.

I just really wanted a production which is lauded for its innovation amongst West End productions to see it through. I’m not asking for it to have anything truly innovative (indeed, Immersive theatre was new and innovative 13+ years ago…..if not longer) but to really stick with the intention would have achieved it. Alas, it was just another well produced and well performed play, stopping short of achieving something really and truly memorable and different.

When The Cloud Catches Colours @ Barbican

This multilingual verbatim play examines the experience of homosexuals in Singapore before and after the law change which made it legal to be homosexual. Exploring the changes legally and their conflict with social changes, the deep seeded beliefs held particularly by older generations. It primarily takes the form of two monologues which overlap one another and speak with one another - although only rarely do the two performers interact. Instead, they interact with the web of semi transparent fabric which pulls up, is propped up, and creates different spaces to explore, almost revealing what is beneath.

There were a number of really great ideas in the piece and its direction, but it never quite realised the momentum or revelation that could have been. That said, it was a very interesting and engaging piece — I just would like to see it have another round of work and some adaptations to the production to see them fully realised.

Igloos Don't Melt @ Camden People's Theatre

Igloos Don’t Melt is a new piece of experimental performance art which explores the experience of nostalgia, memory, and sense of place through the metaphor of literal blocks of ice. There is a complete lack of performativeness to the production; a folding banquet table and a small freezer are all that fill the space, yet it is captivating to watch blocks of ice be removed from the freezer, moved, stacked, and then dismantled through various means and methods. The audience are part of the performance; delivered through direct address, with moments of interaction it is almost like an oddly reflective and convivial stand up show. There is no narrative per se, I would classify the production as post-dramatic — which is really what makes it work. Ideas fill the space, yet we’re given the space to apply meaning to them as the audience, with minimal intervention. There are moments that don’t work as well as others, in particular a longer monologue toward the end about nostalgia could benefit from further integration with the physical elements of the performance. Yet many moments are thought provoking and really sit with you. 

This was a piece steeped in theatrical innovation. The ideas within the show and their manifestation through the performance are truly innovative and push the edges of theatre and semiotics. In particular, the  many ways to interact with ice — which literally melts and is smashed up, changing form and shape, causing us to see “reality” change before our eyes — is quite magical, and incredibly powerful. 

Vers @ Hen & Chickens Theatre Bar

Vers is a double bill of short plays performed by the same exceptional trio of actors. 

The Dinner Scene is first; centred around a couple having dinner (who are interjected by a hilarious Chloe Taplin as the restaurant employee) whose conversation begins surface level, and as they dine dives deeper and deeper until they are having a deep-seeded argument about the fundamentals of respecting one another and the planet. The argument is funny and relatable as each demonstrates the extremes of contemporary middle class concerns, from the vegan offended that the boyfriend ordered pepperoni to the boyfriend offended that the partner would try to police their eating as someone recovering from an eating disorder. As the argument gets more subterranean, the play is interspersed with surreal moments of heightened text-free movement, signifying their underlying emotions and frustrations. While exceptionally well performed and rehearsed (the whip smart and rapid fire dialogue in particular, coupled with some brilliant comic timing) the play as a whole feels like a not quite finished idea. It begs for another round of dramaturgy, as there is really something in there. 

The second play, Poofs with Guns, is a highly campy take on 50’s crime dramas set around the gay community in East London. The text is part silly crime drama, part reflective history, part mash up of audio clips, and is overall quite engaging. Again the performers are really strong; you can see in the design and direction the vision for what the “bigger” version of this production is. In particular, by positioning the story around 50’s gay culture, and using Polari in the dialogue, the production brings to light a piece of history not known by many in contemporary circles. I would have liked to see them go even further with the camp; rather than the light makeup we got for the 2 criminals, give us a full beat face, or even clown (as was in the promotional materials!) — because the moments when the production really leaned into the camp, it was fabulous. 

Rhinoceros @ Almeida Theatre

Omar Elerian may just be the most exciting theatre director working these days, at least in London. His interpretation of Ionesco’s 20th century satire, Rhinoceros, is searingly relevant. A play about mass hysteria, groupthink, and the refusal to surrender, Elerian’s production is whimsical from the start, creating a world that is playful and silly, where tables float and people are caricatures of self interest. Where Berenger (an outstanding Șopé Dìrìsú) doesn’t fit in; he doesn’t look the same, know the choreography or where to stand, doesn’t understand the “rules”. This creates the perfect platform for the devolution of society; everyone else is playing by the rules, even the interlocutor (a brilliant Paul Hunter), moving in choreography, sharing opinions, movements, thoughts. And suddenly, only Berenger and Daisy remain….alone, isolated in their sanity. Sound like the way many of us feel right now?

Elerian’s updates to the text are seamless — only the giant Ionesco nerds like myself would notice the differences — and provide just the right balance of old references and new so that it doesn’t feel like we’re watching an “update” despite the clarity of commentary on 2025 Western civilisation. And I’d be remiss not to mention the exquisite choreography of the production; every movement and breath choreographed beautifully, so that the cast function as a living, breathing unit, of which Berenger sits outside. They are the Rhinoceros. We all are.

Manhunt @ Royal Court Theatre

Note - I saw this in early previews ahead of press night.

Robert Icke’s first original commission, and first appearance at the Royal Court, is a violent investigation of the true life story of a man in the North of England who was wanted for assault and murder, resulting in the longest manhunt in UK history.

In spite of its ties to real life, Icke’s production exists initially in a no-space; there is concrete and sliding doors reminiscent of a prison, but the space is stark white, wide open, and containing only collapsible furniture. It evokes feelings of a world you can’t trust, wherein characters and timelines overlap, move in and out of space, and even the furniture isn’t solid enough to trust. This quickly becomes potent when the central character Raoul (a brilliant Samuel Edward-Cook) loses control of his temper, throwing furniture across the space. The eruption of violence from this man is what we’re meant to expect — but Icke’s clever creation of an uncertain and untrustworthy physical space causes us to question the conditions that created this man.

That isn’t to say that the misogyny and violence of the central character is excused - indeed it is on display like a zoo animal at feeding time, ready for us to consumer and consider, but from a safe distance. Icke has Edward-Cook address the audience directly at times, quite surprisingly and as an affront, a consistent reminder that we’re watching this play out. We all know how it ends, yet are here to watch. Simple yet effective use of camera footage on specific heightened moments remind us of how our experience of these events is normally mediated, through a screen.

In a time when the conversation is ever more focussed on how society is failing young men by allowing them unfettered access to the dreaded “manosphere” and a dearth of positive role models and relationships, in the face of increasingly positive outcomes for their female counterparts, this play is necessary, it is urgent. While Netflix’ adolescence interrogates the knock on effects on those around a young boy who commits such an act, Manhunt holds more than the immediate family accountable — it is society as a whole who need to improve, yet Manhunt suggests no simple solutions. This play does not sit back and safely assess, but rather dives into the deepest end, without a life jacket. Well worth watching, but more importantly, worth reckoning with as individuals and as a wider society.

Container @ New Diorama Theatre

Container is a new polyphonic performance, leaning heavily on the audio experience with the performers creating a beautiful soundscape that layers voices, effects, and musical instruments. The script is interesting; the idea being that these voices overlap and bombard, at times only one, but at times sounds and voices overwhelming the listener, much in the manner that information in the digital ages bombards us during our waking moments. As a piece of theatre, it is at times highly effective, but at times lacking specificity in the direction and purpose, resulting in moments that shine, weighed down by moments that feel indulgent. This is in no part due to the performances of the 5 company members, each of which are quite interesting to watch, and demonstrate exceptional range and skill in their vocal performance.  Their outstanding vocal performances were truly something to behold. The idea of performing sounds in such an onslaught while not new (this was the central concept of my own MA dissertation over 10 years ago in response to Great Reckonings in Little Rooms’ central argument) is executed in an interesting manner, leveraging technology and music to create the cacaphony aligned with our own day to day experiences, bringing voice to the loneliness, and the simultaneous feeling of being overwhelmed.  

1965: Malcolm in Winter: A Translation Exercise - Theaster Gates @ White Cube Bermondsey

Theaster Gates’ latest exhibition at White Cube Bermondsey brings his typical juxtaposition of the personal and the political, the micro and the macro. Focussed primarily around Malcolm X and the Civil Rights Movement (specifically the more militant side of the Black Panthers) and how this work was carried across the world to a broader discussion of freedoms by two Japanese artists, the exhibition almost takes the form of archive. The video documentaries that are central to the exhibition serve to beautifully explain some of the objects — textures, materials, shapes — that are seen in the individual pieces around the gallery.

In particular, the use of everyday items as canvas, from roof shingles to fire hoses, from vases to pieces of wood and book cases, is quite stunning. The simplicity of the materials reminds the viewer of the personal nature of these huge political acts, and their repercussions.

A libation in Uncertain Times(2024)

Abstract Revolutionary Periodical Superstructure (I stole the Master’s library shelving and filled it with books) (2025) 

The Uncanny Trilogy @ Colab Tower

This is a trilogy of improvised immersive operas; each takes place in a tunnel under Southwark Bridge, and uses a similar structure. 3 “sections” of ceremony, all of which are sung by the cast (improvised) and set the audience on an escape room style task. On the whole, the concept is fun (if a bit silly) however the drawn out execution of it (2.5 hours x 3!) is far too long for the content that is actually prepared, and quite reliant on the audience to infer or make up their own story, rather than play by the rules of this invented universe. Like a frustrating improv show, audience members resort to trying to be the most funny or outlandish, which while amusing, means the whole lacks drive and purpose. Furthermore, while it is advertised that the pieces stand alone, indeed they do not. It is unfortunate, as the performers are all clearly very talented, and the seed of the idea is strong….it is simply far too much time for the idea to have true meaning and engagement. Each part of the trilogy is considered below.

Come Bargain:
When the audience enter the tunnel for the first part, the rules of the space are explained, including safety and other considerations. The “guild” are required to sing, we are not, and there are tasks and activities with strict rules and consequences explained. The audience are invited to choose an activity, and spend the time working to solve riddles or create asks of the “uncanny thing” which is restrained at the far end of the tunnel. Initially, the stake feel high, as the audience try to solve issues affecting the local community, however as we move into the second and then third phases of the ceremony, there is no change to the stakes; indeed the scenarios we aim to solve get less engaging and serious, so it is difficult to remain engaged, despite lots of clever physical material. Further, moving between activities while invited, is quite tricky, as the rules of the new activity are not explained…resulting in audience members checking out somewhat, or returning to their first choice. The activities are fun, but lack drive and a reason to keep doing them, so the energy of the evening quickly dissipates, exacerbated by the interval after which the audience come back for more of the same.

Come Worship:
This second of the trilogy focussed on joy and worship, participants were offered the opportunity to create gifts for the uncanny king, and ask for blessings. It was interactive, without respite — there is no hiding or observing, with actors in your face, and the expectation that you will play along and make activities and objects. The instructions were quite murky, and the rules of the universe unclear; particularly if you had not attended the previous part of the trilogy, I think audience members would be lost. Furthermore, while there was much activity, the connections and actions lacked tension and purpose, we weren’t driving anywhere. Despite that ineffectiveness as a piece of theatre, the production did succeed in another area, which is creating connection. The individuals at the performance were clearly hungry for connection, collaboration, and debate, playing along with the production, often creating their own version of the rules of the world, which seemed to work to move things along, although again, rudderless without a clear objective, purpose, or goal to the evening. 

Come Murder:
The third and final instalment of the trilogy, Come Murder was the least structured. Audience were brought into the tunnel, and immediately dove into the world....but with the least explanation of all the pieces of the trilogy. Audience members who had not been in previous performances were lost, and the clarity between the tasks for the participants was murky. This time, there was no ceremony, and only 2 parts — time to put restrictions or bring uses to the thing, and then time to debate over which to do. The first section was allotted too much time, and lacked sufficient structure to keep the audience engaged, and after some time several audience members ran out of ideas and purpose; they did stand around talking to one another (about the play) however had stopped interacting and engaging with the design and structure of the show. The second section was for a debate about what to do to the thing...however outside the thing’s death, the consequences and implications were weak, and the debate itself devolved into a rather loud shouting match at times, with playful but at times screeching voices. The mood on the whole was fun and playful, but again here, it lacked purpose and drive. It was a fun (if odd and silly) evening, but not exceptional theatre. 

Paradise Lost (Lies Unopened Beside Me) @ Battersea Arts Centre

Lost Dog have remounted their renowned Paradise Lost 10 years on from its original production, with a new cast. Obviously the script, design, and choreography are outstanding — but they were 10 years ago. The new performer Sharif Afifi, however, is exceptional. It is always challenging for a performer to step in to a role that was originated for someone else, and Afifi does this with such effortlessness that you would believe he is the originator of the role.

The play begins with “beginning of show face”, an actor reading from the script, engaging with the audience, lights up. First impression may cause you to think this is a failure of performance, failure to embody, however as Afifi progresses and the piece moves into movement and music, it becomes clear that the awkwardness of the early moments were a distinct choice. His physical performance breathes out the choreography with ease, despite the visible effort, his linen shirt soaked in sweat. The play progresses, and we learn it isn’t just about Milton and Paradise Lost, but also about a man trying to create, and about our relationships with what we create, whether those creations are universes, other humans, or a work of art. What we create becomes unruly despite our best efforts — or indeed perhaps because of them, and the hubris to think we can control things.

In the chaotic world we’re situated in now, 10 years on from its premiere, this production feels all the more timely. Good ideas turn sour, beautiful things erode and fade, and ultimately we are ineffective. This sounds terribly drab but indeed the production is hopeful. Rain washes away the effort, the failure, the disappointment, and we go again. 

Sisyphean Quick Fix @ Riverside Studios

This new script centres on two sisters grappling with their father’s alcoholism, coming to terms with how it affected their lives in ways they didn’t realise growing up, and how this is now crashing down on them and the family. The early moments of the script and performance build the relationship of the sisters well, and sets the convention for their video chats to be played out to the crowd. The sound design is a bit over engineered to create a realistic world, and this begins to get tired as the play enters into the more serious aspects of the script. The text and performances follow this same trajectory, which is too bad; there was an opportunity for a lovely tragicomic denouement but it was missed. There is nothing wrong with the production per se, there just isn’t anything new. Bettina Paris is immensely watchable, and I look forward to seeing her working in stronger material, or at least under stronger direction. 

The Seagull @ Barbican

There is little that is nice about these people. Ostermeier’s new production of Chekhov’s The Seagull, adapted with Duncan Macmillan, breathes modern ennui and longing into a story over 100 years old. The characters in this play are petty, selfish, petulant, and buffoonish; at no point does Ostermeier try to make them good or admirable, and as a result, we get some exceptional performances from the exquisite cast.

The display of class cues to elicit understanding of the characters’ rank is notable; while these people endure one another, they certainly don’t (for the most part) like one another. Kostya (Kodi Smit-Mcphee) merely tolerates Masha (a pitch perfect Tonya Reynolds), despite her obsession with him. Masha openly disdains Simon (a brilliant Zachary Harris, who in his northern accent, armed with a guitar, is our window into the world).

Emma Corrin’s Nina is heartbreaking; the contrast between her first and second act selves is outstanding, and the thoughtful approach to her breakdown is really quite darkly beautiful. Where many would play Nina’s breakdown in broad melodramatic strokes, Corrin’s Nina appears to be crumbling before our eyes, a porcelain doll teetering at the edge of the shelf.

And what do we say about Trigorin? Tom Burke does not interpret him as an esthete, but rather as a boorish bro, who happened into writing. He is brutish and self centered, making Nina’s love of him more tragic, and his ability to forget about her, the little plaything, all the more believable.

Finally, Cate Blanchett’s Arkadina is a dream. She is a clown, almost bipolar in her swings between desperation for attention and brooding quiet. All the characters have their moments amplified by the microphones on stage, wherein they speak their performative thoughts into amplification, and for Arkadina these are unsurprisingly the most frequent, and the most haunting. The argument where she manipulates Trigorin specifically stands out, as does her breakdown with Kostya.

The willingness to step in and out of the fourth wall, a constant awareness of the act of performance and the presence of the audience makes this Seagull truly powerful. We are all actors, putting on a face, an act, to appear the way we want the world to see us. Some of us are just more aware of it than others.

Bitch Boxer @ Watford Palace Theatre

The 2012 play Bitch Boxer gets an update for 2025, with a fresh view of the young female boxer as a black and queer character. There is little need to change the text to achieve this, however this simple change breathes new life into the script, meaning that it doesn’t feel dated at all. Indeed the story of a working class girl, whose relationship with her father centres around her connection to sport feels even more relevant in the years since the Lionesses Euros win has invigorated a focus in women's sport.

The production is helmed by Prime Isaac in their first major theatre production as director; there is a vision at play here, and at times it comes together beautifully, however on the whole the direction is a bit uneven. It is clear which moments are clearly aligned versus those which felt a bit underdeveloped. This is unfortunate, as Prime has brought together an excellent actor, clever designer, and intelligent sound design — it just all doesn’t quite come together in a cohesive whole. Jodie Campbell is quite strong in the solo show, for her first stage performance, bringing a calm and nuanced performance. That said, the unevenness in the production as a whole is seen in her performance as well; while there are nice moments of giving her space to breathe and play, it also does mean that at times the production feels rudderless. This isn’t a discredit to Jodie’s work; she is engaging, funny, serious — and impressive, she skips and boxes like an athlete throughout the play.

What was strong, however, was this commitment to the community. Jodie is a Watford local, with her first stage performance, and in the Q&A following the show several audience members spoke up, commenting that they heard about the show on instagram or that they don’t normally go to the theatre. The local connection, centred around a stage newcomer, was really exciting to see, and clearly created a moment for the community. 

A Knock On The Roof @ Royal Court Theatre

“Why do you warn us before you kill us?”
Khawla Ibrahim’s solo show at The Royal Court explores a woman’s life, restrained by the realities of living in a war zone with a small child. Told through direct address, engaging the audience, the protagonist, Mariam, shares her anxieties. When the knock on the roof — a smaller bomb intended to warn residents of a bigger bombing incoming — happens, she has 5 minutes. How far can you run in 5 minutes? This isn’t a question of competition but of survival; she trains through the night, running, carrying heavy objects to prepare herself, timing how far she can get, her increasing strength. Thinking about the practicalities; what if the knock comes while she is in the shower? or while she is asleep? or going to the bathroom?

The production’s pacing creates this tension for the audience, contrasting relaxed, calm, chat, interaction with the audience and stories of her life with panicked moments of preparatory timed runs, and eventually the real thing.

It is a sobering watch. One which reminds the audience that the people in Gaza are people just like us, with anxieties and worries, hopes and regrets. Ibrahim’s performance is beautifully nuanced, calm and physically expressive.

This is a thoughtful production and well worth seeing.

Couture @ Louvre

In this first of its kind exhibition, The Louvre in Paris showcases couture pieces amongst the objects in its decorative arts galleries. So amongst the ornate chairs, clocks, cabinets, and rugs, there are gowns, bags, and shoes. Individual pieces are on display in these contexts, highlighting the relationship between beautiful objects that we surround ourselves with, and the beautiful objects we cover ourselves with.

There are many highlights, but a few stand out — the Christian Dior (above) displayed on a massive mirrored floor quite literally takes your breath away. The dramatic crumples and shapes of the skirt reflect at all angles, blue and white in contrast to the reds and blacks of the objects around them with clean lines. It is hard to describe the experience of walking into the space and seeing this piece.

This Rick Owens gown with its folded silk and headdress transcends time in a room of soft florals and cream coloured silks. It is new and yet so clearly related to the old.

And finally, this Schiaparelli, reflecting not only the stars in the shapes around the room, but even the way the sun comes in the window and the overhead lighting reflects on the mirrors. Pure magic.

If you’re brave enough to fight the crowds at the Louvre, it is worth it to get to this quiet and magical exhibition.

Jordan Brookes Fontanelle @ Soho Theatre

Jordan Brookes’ Fontanelle is a stand up show and a musical at the same time; it centres around the question of masculinity and what it means to be masculine, explored around the premise of The Titanic, and the fact that women and children were rescued first. Playing with the form of a standup comedy show, the production also has a chorus of 5 musical theatre performers who interject throughout. At times the interjections are funny and clever, and at times they feel like the concept is being shoehorned into the standup. The show works best when Brookes interacts with the audience, however in order to stay with the convention some of these seem to be rushed, rather than living in a chaotic performance space. Beyond this, the production is uneven — it plays with pacing, but unconvincingly. It plays with the edges of comedy, but without payoff. And it plays with performance, dipping a toe into failed performance, but without properly achieving this — and perhaps even unintentionally demonstrating failure in performance.

This all sounds like it was awful — it wasn’t. There were definitely moments of humour and clever insight about the bind between equality and chivalry....but it all felt undercooked, which meant that it veered into undertones of misogyny to get its laughs.