The Changeling at The Sam Wanamaker Playhouse

The Changeling is....I find myself struggling to finish this sentence. Anyone who's ever read or seen the play will be feeling my pain. It's humorous yet darkly intricate at best and random and fragmented at worst. Those of us who find ourselves reading more and more obscure Jacobean plays as the weeks go by (no? Just me?) will be well aware of the questionable sub-plots that crop up from time to time. The Changeling, however, takes this to another level. As what can only be assumed is a comical relief from Beatrice-Joanna and DeFlores' spree of murder, manipulation, and rape is a random spattering of scenes in a psychiatric hospital, concerning various patients, the Dr, and his wife. 

Sounds pretty far-fetched, right? And potentially very tricky for a modern day theatre to produce. The recently born Sam Wanamaker Playhouse took on the challenge, and who better? The only theatre in the country which has attempted to mimic the seventeenth century Blackfriars indoor playhouse - complete with candles, claustrophobia, and uncomfortable seating. It is an unbeatably fascinating experience, never have I been so close to the actors, so utterly focussed on the action onstage, so aware of my fellow audience members.

In terms of the performance, if I had been in any other theatre I probably would have zoned out on more than one occasion. I was lucky enough to nab a seat in the Musicians' Gallery, behind/above the stage. I say lucky in terms of being so near the live, authentically dressed musicians, the site of a psychiatric patient invasion in the second half, and being able to see both sides of the stage pretty equally. It was perhaps unlucky in particular for this performance, as manyof the hospital scenes were based upstage, in particular actually within the walls and doors connecting to backstage. As such, no matter how much we clambered over the bannister and craned our necks downwards, we couldn't see any of the comical elements of these scenes, rendering this subplot pretty much redundant. However, I'm willing to relent that this was only a problem for the eight of us in these seats. By all accounts - and by this I mean all the whooping and guffawing going on from the rest of the audience - these scenes were real comic highlights of the whole production.

To the main plot: I found Beatrice-Joanna too breathy and monotonous, and DeFlores too comical. This may sound harsh, but by the end I actually thought, maybe this is the best way to portray the characters. Maybe I've always taken the play too seriously, and maybe that's the problem. After all, Beatrice-Joanna is changeable, unlikeable and unsympathetic. DeFlores is creepy, disloyal, and only seems to open up to the audience. No matter how much I wanted to take these characters seriously, the way they were portrayed merely emphasised the ridiculous nature of the play and the fickle motivations of all the characters. What I initially felt was negative has apparently transmuted into a positive since my initial trip to the theatre.

Prior to the performance, I was lucky enough to attend Middleton expert Gary Taylor's lecture on the interior nature of the play. I realised, The Changeling is the perfect play for the enclosed and dark atmosphere of the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse. I'm not sure I would ever have raving reviews of a production of The Changeling, but thanks to the unexpected portrayal of characters and oppressive environment, it was one of the most exciting and authentic theatre experiences I've ever had.

SWP still have some great productions coming up before the end of the season, have a browse and buy tickets here. Whatever you do, make sure you pay attention to the candles, the productions use them in innovative and unique ways and scenes often revolve around them, something you're really not going to experience anywhere else.

Merchant of Venice at the Almeida

In the past six months I've being reading more and watching more plays than ever before, and yet the blog has all but died. Ironic? I honestly couldn't tell you - the concept of irony baffles me. But I do know it's not great blogger form, and now I have a humongous backlog of great books and performances that I'm dying to write about. Besides, the fact that I have three essays looming over me in the next month is a great motivation to get back to the blog. 

First up, The Merchant of Venice at the Almeida theatre. Artistic director Rupert Goold has set Shakespeare's dark comedy of prejudice and property in the glistering, superficial world of Las Vegas, complete with Antonio the melancholic gambler (Scott Handy), Launcelot the Elvis impersonator (Jamie Beamish), and Portia (Susannah Fielding) the Southern blonde bombshell princess. Now, I am well aware of the fervently anti-modern-Shakespeare-adaptation faction out there, even more so since beginning my MA and feeling like the least serious, phoniest Shakespeare scholar out there. What can I say? I love a good change of scenery in a Shakespeare play, it keeps it fresh for people less academically minded and often offers a new perspective on an over-exhausted debate. That being said, adaptations always need to be done well -  I've found they work best when they don't need too much complex explanation and emphasise the fun element of pitching a seventeenth century script in a totally alien element. Programmes are great ways of engaging the audience and allowing the director to explain their thought processes, but at about £4 or more a pop not everyone is going to invest - an adaptation needs to be self-explanatory, but leave room for the audience to think once the show is over.

For me, Merchant at the Almeida did exactly this. There have been hugely mixed reviews of it, a lot negative, and I faced quite a negative reaction when admitting my positive thoughts about it to fellow students. The general consensus is that the bright lights and exaggerated Americanisation clouded the all-important plot. Fair enough, at times I was mesmerised more by Portia's bouncing golden ringlets than her lamentations over her imprisonment in Belmont, and Elvis' hip thrusting warbling might not have been exactly what Shakespeare was going for. But the production did have some stand out points that really made me think. Firstly, the portrayal of foreignness and prejudice in such a modern setting was troubling and unavoidable. I spoke with my mum for a long time after this about the way  the play outlined stereotyped racism - even though we may no longer racially mock the Spanish, or the Moroccans, racial and religious stereotyping is certainly not dead, and the audience was starkly reminded of this throughout the performance.

The final scene was another triumph for this production. Bearing in mind I saw this way back in January, this scene is still vivid in my mind, which is always a true testament to any performance. What has always struck me about Merchant is the apparent unhappiness of all the couples at the end, no one seems very invested in each other - everyone's got what/who they want but suddenly it's totally unfulfilling. At the Almeida this translated into a closing sequence of Portia teetering on a high heel, performing something between a ballet sequence and a slow motion breakdown. Making it all the more haunting, the characters she circled - Bassanio and Antonio, Lorenzo and Jessica, Gratiano and Nerissa - alternated between staring blankly outside the stage space and awkwardly at one another. Following a comedic and extravagant two hours and a half, I was left with an empty and uncomfortable taste in my mouth. This is exactly how I feel every time I re-read the playtext, after the triumphant celebration of the trial scene, the spats between the couples over Portia and Nerissa's rings leaves a gaping awkwardness that the play apparently runs out of time to fill or resolve. This production ended on the perfect note of questionable happiness and uncertain love matches and friendships.

These aren't my highlights as such, they were really the two things that struck me about the performance. The one thing that did jar for me was the transformation of the casket plot into a game show - I understand the sentiment but ultimately it confused the plot and made it more complicated than it needed to be. Aside from what I've mentioned, and the individual performances - none of which I can majorly fault - the performance was more or less a bit of fun. But there's nothing wrong with that, and going for fun rather than super serious in terms of updating an early modern play is often the most successful way of doing it. Even those of us who are seriously the seriouest of the serious Shakespeare scholars need a bit of fun once in a while.

Two Gents Productions - Taming of the Shrew

It’s been a while since I’ve seen a show and actually wanted to rush home and write the review immediately – hence a recent lack of posts. But tonight things changed. I almost didn’t get my bum off the sofa and make it to the White Bear pub/theatre to see the Two Gents play Taming of the Shrew. Boy, I’m glad I did.

The Two Gents (for tonight) were literally made up of two actors, one is, in fact, a gent, and one is a woman – Isaac and Dilek. These two are backed by what they describe as a ‘cross cultural touring company’ – you could see from the audience alone the tight bonds within this small group, I recognised a number of the spectators from the backstage pictures on their website.

So how do you perform a play with a 21 strong character list with just two cast members? To find out the answer, you really need to see the Two Gents performing for yourself, but I’ll try to give a bit of a taster. Isaac and Dilek entered the small performance room in plain clothes, bucket in hand, and laid out housekeeping rules and information about the performance to come to the sound of Isaac’s drumming beat on the bucket. This immediately introduced a sense of total ease and comfort – if a line was forgotten or a wrong character trait was used it was laughed off rather than awkwardly covered up, a much more comfortable informal theatre experience in my book.

We were told each character would have their own characteristic to differentiate and make quick transitions clearer – I was dubious about how easy this was going to be to follow. Well, this may sound impossible, but each character was well developed and recognisable. This was potentially down to the camaraderie that both actors kept up with the audience. Taming has a lot of scenes with a lot of characters in them, this was tackled uniquely by targeting specific audience members to fill in the physical absence of more actors – and, with a little bit of imagination on our part, it worked every time.

A word on the Kate and Petruchio storyline. This was particularly important to me as I have recently been reading a lot of feminist criticism on domestic violence in the play. Critics such as Emily Detner have suggested that the play should be taken seriously in today’s society as it dramatically undermines mental manipulation and domestic abuse that effects so many women. I was therefore unsure about seeing the play performed so comically as this production was clearly going to be. Maybe my expectations of the actors were too low, but I was surprised with how well they dealt with it. Dilek played Petruchio and Isaac played Katherina. At first Kate was a butch, aggressive…..shrew? but her (or his should I say?) development into a silent, solemn-faced coward-in-the-corner was truly realistic. Petruchio’s superficial offer of food before refusing to allow a starving Kate to eat without thanking him was a seriously chilling moment in the midst of  all the comedy.

From the flawless switching of characters between each other, to the imagination of props and setting, the chemistry between Isaac and Dilek was perfection. Their relationship drew the audience into a very interactive theatre experience. Admittedly, they nearly lost me at the end with the final speeches, but everyone was fully brought back to life with an updated version of the old-school Shakespearean jig, complete with beat drumming and hip swaying. I will certainly be following this innovative theatre group in all their future endeavours.

Take a look at their next set of dates here

The Comedy of Errors at The Globe

Oh unhappy day, the Globe outdoor season has come to an end. But, to be honest, looking out of the window right now is not inspiring me to purchase a ticket to stand shivering under the clouds with rain dripping off my nose. Not even to watch the hilarious adaptation of Shakespeare’s The Comedy of Errors again. Although, now I think of it, watching the Dromios run and trip their way across a minefield of puddles clothed in sopping robes would potentially add even MORE hilarity to the unrelenting slapstick scenes. If that’s possible.

The ‘ante-show’ was utterly delightful, with Dromio of Ephesus (Jamie Wilkes) trying anything and everything to get that last item of laundry down from the washing line pinned high above the stage. This was a play in which I really appreciated the choreography, and no more than at this point. Dromio’s uncertainty and wobbly movements were such that the whole audience gasped when he fell from the top rung of a ladder. Having got in the mood for the light-hearted physical comedy that was to come, the first scene was, I have to say, a slight disappointment. The Comedy of Errors isn’t a play you go to see for its plotline by any accounts, but Egeon’s explanation of the happenings before the play are crucial to understanding the sets of twins situation – the foundation on which the entire play rests. For me, James Laurenson’s portrayal didn’t quite match up to the emotional, heartbroken old man I had imagined. The speech seemed rather dry, and at times I couldn’t even hear it, meaning that a few audience members looked unsurprisingly lost once he had finished. I did appreciate the image of a lonely widower who has lost all hope, but felt the speech really needed to be amped up to provide more of a setting for the rest of the play.

From then on in, the audience spent two hours ranging from quiet titters to raucous roaring consistently. From the word go, there was no let up from the slapstick scenes, with props being utilised here there and everywhere. There was the oversized fish used for slapping people around the face, the octopus being thrown all around the stage, and of course the turkey with which one of the Dromios spent the majority of a scene with his head in. Every stage direction and every aspect was amped up to its fullest – the witchdoctor scene was a particular highlight, complete with a magical feast for the eyes and ears.

Each cast member was a comic genius in their own right. I found Adriana, played by Hattie Ladbury, specialised in subtle asides and sarcastic improvisations to put her own stamp on the role of neglected wife. Becci Gemmill, meanwhile, played the perfect princess Luciana, balancing innocence with jealous sisterly rivalry to a tee. Out of the four main men, I really couldn’t pick out my favourite twin from each set. Despite knowing the story, I had to double check which Antipholus/Dromio had entered the stage each time, even if they didn’t look absolutely identical, they had sure learnt how to act it. Antipholus of Ephesus (Matthew Needham) was certainly the angrier twin, really mincing the physical scenes for all they were worth, whilst the connection between Dromio and Antipholus of Syracuse seemed that little bit realer (Brodie Ross and Simon Harrison respectively).

Throughout the play, I was looking forward to the end. No, I was by no means desperate for the performance to finish, but I was desperate to witness the reunion of the brothers. To be honest, I was expecting it to be 100% comical. It certainly was comical, as with every other scene in the play, but there was an extremely emotional and touching element to the closing scene, which was unexpected. The two Dromios were the ones who really stole the show in the end, with the final moments given to their brotherly reunion. A mixture of embarrassed bashfulness with social awkwardness and subdued excitement, the two really captured what the situation might actually be like to be reunited with a twin sibling decades later – totally bizarre and stultifying. Once the Dromios finally made their way off-stage, hand in hand, the audience erupted into emotive cheers and applause. A perfectly unanticipated touching ending to an evening of genuine confusion and genuine laughter.

Julius Caesar at The Globe

I have officially started my MA at King’s College and The Globe in Shakespeare Studies. This is exciting for a number of reasons. Firstly, living in London for the first time! Ok, maybe it’s dawned on me that this is less exciting and more terrifying and daunting compared to what now seems teeny tiny lovely Brighton. I’m just about getting to grips with it…I think. But something that has not become any less exciting is going to The Globe every day! Also being able to geek out with all the other geeking outers on the course who don’t bat an eyelid at a little (a lot) geeking out. Our first outing as a group was to see The Globe’s production of Julius Caesar.

Yawn yawn, Julius Caesar, it’s only redeeming feature is the much quoted and surprisingly useful ‘et tu brute?’. Apart from that it’s just boring men boring the rest of us with their boring man issues. Right? WRONG. As may or may not be obvious by now, I have a soft spot for Shakespeare. But we all have those plays we think the world could do without. Probably doesn’t help that I studied the play at the tender age of 13 and all I remember is a rather quaint cartoon (the creepy over-realistic kind, rather than the fun cute kind) of the play being put in front of us perhaps in the vain hope of engaging us. Well, I could now go back and tell my Year 9 teacher that if they’d taken us to see THIS production every single one of us would be JC fanatics to this day.

Before everyone had even taken their seats or picked the perfect standing position, there were plebeians and townsmen ramming a box through the audience, mounting it and chanting ‘CAESAR CAESAR’, forcing us to join in. We were no longer 21^st century audience members dubiously waiting for one of the plays widely acknowledged as LESS exciting than some others, oh no. We were members of the Roman public, part of the mob, pawns in a political crisis, screaming the name of whoever had taken our fancy that day. But more on the mob later.

Caesar (George Irving) emerged. The very first thing that struck me was his humour! Of all things, Caesar was a joker. Maybe an inadvertent, over-cocky and over-assured joker, but a joker nonetheless. After the original spectacle of Caesar’s first scene, complete with a lifesize cow swinging from the ceiling, among other things, my stars of the show came on for their first scene. Brutus and Cassius, often imagined by me as middle-aged men desperate with jealousy, instead materialised as rather dishy socialist heroes (insert cheer here). OK the heroes bit is up for debate, but I think that loaded phrase really encapsulates the political element that makes this play SO exciting – especially the fact that it totally resonates with today’s world. Marc Antony (Luke Thompson) stole the end of the first half, subtly sarcastic lines such as ‘I am no orator as Brutus’ and ‘I only speak right on’ jumped out of his manipulative tone. I felt they could have been said by any Tom Dick or Harry, or maybe Ed, Nick or Dave…the mobilisation of the electric mob mentality that was charging round the entire playhouse momentarily took over from the specificities of the Caesar plot and exploited the vulnerable malleability of people’s opinion through speech alone.

I want to briefly return to Brutus, played by Tom McKay, as this Brutus does now hold a special place in my heart. My first impression was that the actor was a little uneasy and slightly static. But then I realised, he was being such a realistic Brutus that I had almost missed it! Brutus’ internal anguish and indecision was so perfectly epitomised in the tone of every single word he spoke, every movement he made, and every expression of the eyes (I’ll give that as my reason for why I couldn’t stop staring at them). It was because of this close attention to each detail that the exact moment where Brutus switches from hesitant senate member to ring-leading conspirator was so palpable. The relationship between Brutus and Cassius (Anthony Howell) was so emotional that people around me were shedding a tear. Theirs became a love story and it worked perfectly. By the end, when Brutus reveals his wife’s death, and the ghost of Caesar comes to him (spoiler: Caesar dies), his development comes full circle: he returns to the first Brutus we met, full of courage and dignity but hopelessly conscience haunted and pragmatic.

So as not to ramble on TOO much, I have just a few more concise highlights I feel I must mention. The use of music was something I haven’t experienced too much in the theatre before, and the mix between Latin singing and more contemporary, unusual tunes added a trauma and emotion to the traditional bloody murder scenes – a great juxtaposition of spectacle and sombre mood. In particular, the harp song which Lucius plays in the second half as Brutus paces his tent cemented this as my favourite scene by far. The jig at the end was also a new experience for me, I just loved that no matter the mood at the close of the play (spoiler alert #2: it doesn’t end well), everyone breaks into a jolly, energetic dance together to end the show – so uplifiting!

One final thing – tiny details are something I love to seek out in any performance, and Decius’ slow, subtle peeling of a tangerine in the night conspiratorial scene had me in (albeit inappropriate) stitches.

PS DON’T MISS the twist at the end. Pure interpretative gold. Ok I’m done.

It’s on until 11^th October so DO get tickets here! 

See You Tomorrow - Tore Renberg

Coined as a ‘genre defying novel’, See You Tomorrow by Tore Renberg fulfils its undefinable reputation. Don’t be intimidated by the thickness of the book, it is 600 pages of intense emotion and excitement. Written through the eyes of different characters in each chapter, the novel manages to maintain pace and a page-turning aspect the whole way through – something I was surprised about for such a long book. Starting with Pal, a father of two who needs help with his desperate, inescapable secret, the story linking each first-person character gradually unfolds. I found the staggered character introduction very motivating throughout as each time we met someone knew I hoped they would reappear in the next chapter as the protagonist speaker – usually they did.

The constant switching of perspective seems in theory potentially overly complex and confusing. In reality, however, it totally worked and really showed off Tore Renberg’s talent as such a diverse writer. Each character had their own distinctive voice, to the point where you could recognise who was speaking without the chapter title specification. Obviously, I had my own favourites and less favoured characters – I loved Cecile’s personal story and learning her tragic history. And that really is the beauty of the book: whilst there is the main plot line running through each chapter, every character also has their own personal story slowly developing throughout their own chapters. So even if you don’t love the particular character of a certain chapter, the plot will keep you reading through, and as the characters reveal more about themselves, so too does the overarching story become ever clearer.

Something that I wasn’t expecting to be so noticeable in the novel was the description of and preoccupation with the Norwegian landscape. The partners in crime, Rudi and Jan Inge, who provide much of the psychological thrill, are paired by their obsessive personalities: Jani for running an orderly business and horror films, Rudi for his girlfriend Cecile and his grandmother. Rudi’s monologues are saturated with memories of the landscape of his childhood, truly immersing the reader in the world of the characters and the culture in which they have been created. Renberg has previously been quoted as suggesting there is not much difference between Norwegian and UK culture. Whilst I agree that I was able to relate to and recognise a lot of the focal issues which the novel is preoccupied with, small touches which reveal the unique setting of the novel really brought it to life for me – to the point where I was visually dreaming about it!

As I said before, the transition from perspective to perspective was consistently flawless, each character was so well developed and recognisable – I believe this was certainly in part due to the realism of the language Renberg writes in. As a translated text, credit is of course due to the translator, Sean Kinsella – it is thanks to both him and Renberg that the dialogue and streams of consciousness were so natural and realistic, and therefore believable. This no-frills no-fuss approach made way for a totally raw and unadulterated depiction of each character. Whilst there is a fair amount of swearing and crude language, it never came across as crudity for the sake of crudity as it so often can in novels. Instead, it just became another integral part of the text as a way for us to further get to know the characters and their minds. As well as sex and swearing, the novel deals with some pretty heavy violence, both mentally and physically. I loved that Renberg neither hammed the violence up too much nor shied away from portraying it as brutally as it may be. This fact also led to the darkly comic aspect of the book – just as life has its horrific scenes, there is often a comical edge to everything we do, Renberg beautifully explores this fact simply through maintaining a strong sense of realism throughout.

See You Tomorrow is wonderfully intricate and multi-faceted in both its character development and plot development. I won’t lie, it’s not a question-answering novel, it is most definitely a question-asking novel. The beauty of it is explained in the title: purely focusing on a condensed period of three days, we only see what happens in those days and are left hopelessly (and frantically!) guessing what happens next, as well as what happened before. Frustrating it may be, but I dare you not to fully invest yourself in each character and find yourself caring about even the seemingly most despicable ones.

Read it now! Buy it here

Creation Theatre's Macbeth

Despite a rather hectic summer, I recently had a rather exciting development in my reviewer/writer endeavours. I became an official reviewer for Daily Info. For those non-Oxford dwellers, Daily Info (www.dailyinfo.co.uk) is the one-stop website for all things Oxford - whether you're looking for a job, a babysitter, or a vegetarian Middle Eastern restaurant on a budget, it's the best place for quick advice. Although I haven't had nearly as much time to review for them as I would have liked, when Macbeth produced by Creation Theatre was advertised, I jumped at it. I've been a long-time supporter of this Oxford based theatre company and have been to countless great performances put on by them, from Much Ado about Nothing to A Christmas Carol. One of the things I love most about them is their innovation and passion about the spaces in which they perform. The plays are often outdoors in parks and gardens, one of my favourite experiences has to be watching Antony and Cleopatra on the amphitheatre-style roof of the Said Business School - so authentic! As you'll see in the review, the use of setting and space was once again outstanding in Macbeth.

As a reviewer attending the first night performance, I didn't know what to expect. I took my little notebook (and my mum) along and we were both overly excited when I was presented with a badge and guided into a room with refreshments and lots of important looking people! We were treated to an introductory talk from the lovely Lucy Askew who has my dream job (chief and executive producer) before being led out to the gardens of Lady Margaret Hall which had been transformed into a murderous banquet scene. My review had to be short and concise, but I just want to emphasise again what I really think is Creation Theatre's biggest strength: their relationship with and focus on the audience as participants in the play. After all, that is what the roots of theatre have always been about.

Disclaimer: I had to write this review THE NIGHT of performance and so my comments are completely first impression based. As is always the way with literature and theatre, most concepts need a while to sink in and take shape, that's the point of them. Whilst I still stand by what I've written, the interpretation became a real thinker for me and I have come to more fully appreciate the artistic experimentation of the production.

"An ambitious and successful production, if a slightly problematic interpretation. Creation Theatre’s latest venture reimagines Shakespeare’s Macbeth in the setting of a military sanatorium, acted out in the gardens of Lady Margaret Hall. The experimental use of the setting was certainly one of the highlights: Macbeth, Lady Macbeth et al bounded manically in and out of the surrounding building, shouting out from various windows and bellowing down from the roof observatory. The audience were seated around round tables, much like being at a sinister wedding-cum-massacre, which the cast often marched through, hiding in the shadows and creating that increasing feeling of insecurity which so fits with Macbeth.

The ‘weird sisters’ were effectively disposed of, in their place were women with cloths covering their faces and men wearing gas masks. This worked well with the updating of the play into a war-time England, but I felt that the medieval plot itself could never quite fully be reconciled with the setting of a hospital full of wounded, shell-shocked soldiers. This was in part rectified in the second half, in which the hospital setting became a lot clearer and more interesting. In the end, I decided the interpretation worked well when viewing each character individually as a soldier obsessed with the war going on around him and the tyranny and murder dictating the world.

The first half ended with Banquo’s murder, a wonderful scene which really was a taste of better things to come. The playing out of murders and violence was a real highlight – the characters stood about two metres apart enacting the infliction and reaction, never actually touching each other - a technique that was far more effective and harrowing. The encroaching darkness undoubtedly highlighted the creepy horror story effect that the production was striving for and the actors really came into their own in the second half – well worth waiting for! Although Lady Macbeth wasn’t the best portrayal I’ve seen, the sexual tension between her and Macbeth (Scott Ainslie) was amped up to perfection – there was real chemistry between the actors. The cast was small, which meant a lot of doubling up – quite a difficult feat in a play with such a large cast. However, it did work for the most part, thanks to the diverse skills of the actors – Simon Spencer-Hyde was particularly good in his transition from Banquo to Macduff, the shift was flawless to the point that I wasn’t immediately aware it was the same actor.

All in all, the interpretation needed a lot of thinking about in order to get to grips with it. I wanted it to be a more dramatic reworking, either in making itself more obvious through props and direction, or, preferably, through cutting certain scenes and speeches which became somewhat obsolete within the new context. That said, the production and acting talent made for a thoroughly enjoyable evening. The effort in preparation and dramatic design cannot be faulted. The use of location, props and sound was perfectly balanced with the necessity for audience imagination – an eerie and memorable evening for children and adults alike."

Go and see it now! Grab your tickets here