Written for the New Statesman Literary butchery to start the London International Festival of Theatre, which gets underway with a filleted H...
Written for the New Statesman Literary butchery to start the London International Festival of Theatre, which gets underway with a filleted H...
Too often the claim that all elements of theatre are equal, leaves some more equal than others. In retaliation against the writer’s strangle...
I suspect that Kings of England’s tribute to a lost England can only work in a metropolitan setting. It is too reliant on the otherness of ...
Jo Bannon’s Foley is a clear and simple short. In fact, that’s its greatest flaw. Foley, for those that don’t know, is the recreation or si...
Written for Time Out For the son lugging around his father's corpse like Mother Courage's cart, death becomes a rite of passage in L...
Written for Culture Wars “We’re going to take you on an adventure,” intones an impish woman in a sequinned dress, “with a capital A.” Her vo...
Written for Time Out While Peter Gill's latest directorial venure plays at the Bush, a mile down the road his 1969 debut play gets a ten...
Written for Time Out Ibsen might be in vogue all of a sudden - this month the Sheffield Crucible re-opens with one of his and another begins...
Written for Culture Wars In form, Enda Walsh’s latest is almost the exact mirror image of his previous play, The Walworth Farce . While the ...
Like Maxie Szalwinska , I spent Saturday afternoon at The Riverside indulging in a spot of Peachy Coochy, a mischievous event led by the imp...