Giant @ Harold Pinter Theatre

It is unusual to see an “issue play” that feels as though it properly explores all angles and points of view through its characters,. Giant is such a play, exploring the real historical moment when cherished children’s author Roald Dahl spoke out against Israeli aggression in Palestine, and received backlash. The script has a lot going on, and perhaps some elements of character and even setting I struggled to understand why they were chosen; the gardener for example, served little purpose other than to give the protagonist another older man to align himself with.

What was truly outstanding here was not the play, however, but John Lithgow’s performance. Nuanced and funny, while still being powerful and at times intimidating, Lithgow commanded the space. I have known his work primarily through tv sitcoms, so it was refreshing to get to see the depth of his skill live, and in a character who is so deeply challenging intellectually, with seemingly opposing viewpoints within himself. An absolutely extraordinary performance, sat within a decent play.

Similar to other such historical moment plays about big personalities, I do think that without Lithgow in the lead, the play would find itself rudderless.

Our Cosmic Dust @ Park Theatre

An adaptation of a Japanese story, Our Cosmic Dust is visually stunning. Making use of a massive dynamic projection screen over the back wall, and a reflective floor which at times creates infinite loops of visuals, the story takes you through the experience of a young boy and his mother, following the death of his father. The boy goes on an epic adventure, while the mother follows anxiously hoping for the best for her son.

The script is whimsical to match the design, and the 5 actors move through the space beautifully, supporting the puppet and magical world they create together. They leveraged many techniques common in physical theatre practice, clearly inspired by Complicité, to great effect.

All of that sounds lovely, and it is — but something struck a negative note with me when it came to the direction. While each of the characters were fully realised and unique, they also somehow felt tonally quite different, and not aligned in the mood and character of the play itself. It is definitely disappointing, as so many other elements were simply outstanding.

Insane Asylum Seeker @ Bush Theatre

Supported by a stack of TV’s showing curated clips of real historical events, this solo performance weaves a story of the intergenerational impact of the trauma of needing to flee your homeland and claim asylum. Laith is born and raised in Britain, the child of refugees who have settled around London, but for whom the ongoing ramifications of colonialism and war have long tentacles that reach him decades on and miles away.

The very real examination of the impact on him as an individual, as we see him learn more about his parents and their own trauma, and has he unpacks his own, is a timely story in the shadow of the current government’s whitepaper on proposed changes to the current immigration rules, and a public opinion which seems to create others before it creates community.

The production and performance are strong — and the humour in the script helps to create tension and increases the impact of some of the truly upsetting moments of the play. I in particular enjoyed the design, leveraging light to create feelings of uncertainty and a broken mind.

I hope this production sees another run.

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.