Two figures, hooded and shrouded, stumble in out of the torrential rain and prepare themselves for a spot of campanology. But who are they? My first intimation is that they are monks and this piece must be set back in the day, but the cloaks are quickly removed and the two men are revealed to be contemporary characters – yet the world they discuss is bewildering. What’s all this talk of raining frogs? Death by lightning? And why are mushrooms growing everywhere?
Aspinall (Paul Adeyefa) and Clement (Luke Rollason) are the latest in a line of bellringers, who come here in the belief that ringing the church bells might somehow dispel the devastating storm they know is fast approaching. There have been other bellringers before them but it’s a worryingly short-lived profession. Best not to talk too much about what happened to their predecessors. Neither of them are religious – not really – but they have to do something don’t they? And a respected friend claims that this is the only surefire way to avert disaster.
As the two men count the intervals between lightning strikes and thunderbolts, which grow worryingly shorter, they talk about this baffling world in which they’re trying to survive – this doomed place of dying crops and terrible famines and weather conditions that seem to be spinning out of control…
It doesn’t take a Sherlock Holmes to interpret this particular allegory, but the power of Bellringers is in the uncanny way in which information is slowly but surely released, so that things only fully coalesce in the play’s final stretches. Both Adeyefa and Rollason play their roles with consummate skill, the former calm and measured, the latter nervy and intense, tortured by a secret he’s been keeping for over a year. Daisy Hall’s acerbic script is at once funny and terrifying, highlighting the futility of a world that puts its faith in superstition and crossed fingers. In the end, all the two men have ever wanted is “what they had – an ordinary life. And long.” A damning reference the world that we are all in the process of bequeathing to generations yet to come.
Little wonder that this debut play was a finalist for The Women’s Prize 2023. Under Jessica Lazar’s assured direction this is another winner from Roundabout, one that will send you out of that unique location with a lot to think about.
August in Edinburgh, and the Fringe was back with a boom! As ever, after seeing so many brilliant productions, it’s been hard to select our favourites, but it’s (virtual) Bouquet time and so, in no particular order, here are the shows that have really stayed with us:
COMEDY
John Robins: Howl (Just the Tonic)
‘Raw and achingly honest….’
The Ice Hole: a Cardboard Comedy(Pleasance)
‘An inspired piece of surreal lunacy…’
Dominique Salerno: The Box Show (Pleasance)
‘One of the most original acts I’ve ever seen…’
The Umbilical Brothers: The Distraction (Assembly)
‘An amorphous mass of nonsense – but brilliantly so!’
THEATRE
Bacon (Summerhall)
‘A whip-smart, tightly-constructed duologue…’
The Grand Old Opera House Hotel (Traverse)
‘Part slapstick, part comic-opera, part mad-as-a-box-of-frogs spectacle, this is something you really don’t want to miss.’
Salty Irina(Roundabout at Summerhall)
‘Fresh and contemporary, all minimal props and non-literal interpretation…’
Dark Noon(Pleasance)
‘A unique piece of devised theatre, sprawling and multi-faceted…’
JM Coetzee’s Life and Times of Michael K (Assembly)
‘A gentle but powerful production…’
One Way Out (Underbelly)
‘The piece is brave enough not to offer a solution…’
SPECIAL MENTIONS
After the Act (Traverse)
‘We have to learn from what has gone before…’
Woodhill (Summerhall)
‘Though unnervingly bleak, this does offer a glimmer of hope…’
Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World (Traverse)
‘The closest I’ve ever come to experiencing an acid trip in the theatre…’
So, they have both swiped right on their phones and here they are, meeting up for that all-important first date. Him (Archie Backhouse) is finally getting over a failed relationship and is ready to look for someone new. Her (Letty Thomas) has a different agenda entirely. She wants to cut the crap, avoid all the usual platitudes, go straight for the jugular. And he isn’t quite ready for the onslaught of home truths he’s about to be bombarded with.
Strategic Love Play, written by Miriam Battye and directed by Katie Posner, is a spare and cynical piece that keeps heading in unexpected directions. No sooner do I think I have the measure of it, then it veers off again and the result is as intriguing as it is unsettling. I enjoy it most in its opening stretches when Her is letting rip, shredding all the familiar notions of romance and gleefully tossing them into the wastebasket. It’s cynical, abrasive and very funny.
But as her demands and expectations develop, the more outrageous and off-the-wall the narrative becomes, a bleak and cynical philosophy about the nature of relationships and the scant possibilities of love and life in the age of Tinder.
Both actors submit pitch-perfect performances and I love Rhys Jarman’s simple but effective set design, the tight circle that spins around to show us a different view of the two characters: the merry-go-round of human relationships; the endless quest to find the perfect partner as the passengers spin around and around, just to end up back where they began.
And I love the surprise uses to which an overhead lamp can be put.
I don’t want to say too much about where this ends up – but the conclusion catches me by surprise as much as it catches Him. Despite all the laughs, this is ultimately a brutal and misanthropic play, with a jaundiced view of human relationships.
But, as I leave Roundabout, I make an important decision: I’m going to borrow that little trick with a packet of crisps.
Bangers is a tale told in rhyme, rap and R&B, a propulsive slice of gig theatre that feels as much like a party night as a performance. Set somewhere in the city of London, it’s the story of two unconnected characters, Aria (Danusia Samal – who wrote this) and Cleff (Darragh Hand), both of whom are going though rocky patches in their lives.
Cleff is coming to terms with the recent death of his father and struggling to decide whether to pursue his musical ambitions or, to please his Mum, take the safer route of passing exams and going to college. Aria is still haunted by a crush she had years ago, on the teacher who first mentored her and inspired her to perform. When Cleff and Aria bump into each other in a nightclub, it’s clear from the outset that they’re capable of making sweet music together, if only they can find a clear path through the debris of their respective issues.
The performance is presided over (you might more accurately say refereed by) an acerbic house DJ (Duramaney Kamba), who often intervenes when Aria and Cleff squabble and who employs a whole range of sound motifs to keep them in check. There’s a genuine good-time vibe to this show and Roundabout is packed to the rafters with cheering, clapping onlookers.
The story is told through ten different tracks. Samal and Hand take on several different personae as the story unfolds, but there are no real visual clues to help me spot when there’s been a change – which makes things a bit confusing at times. And, while I believe in Cleff’s story arc, Aria’s stretches my credulity. Could somebody really be hung up for so long over something so slight?
A late plot twist is probably meant to come as a big surprise, but I’m sure I’m not the only one who can see it coming.
Nonetheless, it’s hard to resist the sheer exuberance of the performances and the overall mood is so celebratory, I find myself compelled to go with the flow. By the show’s conclusion, I’m up on my feet with the rest of the crowd, urging the three performers on to their final joyful song.
Joe (Elliot Norman) spends a lot of time sitting in his parked car, listening to the weird distorted noises which are the only sounds he can get from his radio. Sometimes he shares the space with his old friend, Emma (Rosie Dyer), recently returned to the area after losing her job. She’s now living with her parents and clearly isn’t enjoying the experience very much, but Joe gets it. He’s been living with his mum for ages and claims he’s getting along just fine, even if he’s not actually allowed to sit on the sofa after spilling chilli oil on it.
Sometimes, Joe sits in the car with an older man, the hapless Peter (John McNeil), who has a bit of a thing about Joe’s mum, and was recently rejected by her – which is awkward to say the least. Peter is fond of a drink. Rather too fond, as it happens. The car they are sitting in used to belong to him but now he’s lost his licence and has sold it to Joe at a knockdown price, though he still has a proprietorial attitude towards the vehicle.
The in-car conversation often turns to an absent friend, somebody called Polko. He’s not around any more and nobody seems quite sure where he’s gone…
Polko is a strange, sinewy sort of play, where the characters talk around things rather than coming to the nub of what they are actually discussing. At various points, it becomes clear that these three dispossessed characters are all unreliable narrators, each of them having to revisit what they’ve said earlier in order to tell the full story. We probably shouldn’t trust them – even if we want to.
And the mystery of the titular character really doesn’t fall into place until the very last scene.
Written by Angus Harrison and sparely directed by Emily Ling, this is an intriguing, slowly-unfolding story that ultimately raises more questions than it has answers for, but the performances are strong – especially McNeil’s brooding and mysterious loner, who never manages to be direct – and the sense of slowly-building intrigue keeps me guessing right up to the end.
After the slim pickings of the last two years, 2022 feels like a palpable return to form: finally, emphatically, theatre is back! We’ve relished the wide range of productions we’ve seen over the year. As ever, it was difficult to choose our particular favourites, but those listed below have really resonated with us.
Singin’ in the Rain (Festival Theatre, Edinburgh)
Singin’ in the Rain is a delight from start to finish. It never falters, never loses pace and manages to honour the great film that inspired it. One of the most supremely entertaining shows I’ve seen in a very long time. Slick, assured, technically brilliant – it never puts a hoof wrong.
Wuthering Heights (King’s Theatre, Edinburgh)
In this Wise Children production, Emma Rice strips Wuthering Heights down to its beating heart, illuminates its essence. This is a chaotic, frenzied telling, a stage so bursting with life and energy that it’s sometimes hard to know where to look. It’s dazzling; it’s dizzying – and I adore it.
Red Ellen (Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh)
Red Ellen is a fascinating tale, ripped from the pages of political history. Wils Wilson’s propulsive direction has Ellen hurtling from one scene to the next, which keeps the pot bubbling furiously.
Prima Facie (NT Live, The Cameo, Edinburgh)
This is a call to action that walks the walk, directly supporting The Schools Consent Project, “educating and empowering young people to understand and engage with the issues surrounding consent and sexual assault”. It’s also a powerful, tear-inducing play – and Jodie Cromer is a formidable talent.
Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible is Going to Happen (Roundabout @ Summerhall, Edinburgh)
Samuel Barnett inhabits his role completely, spitting out a constant stream of pithy one liners and wry observations with apparent ease. Marcelo Dos Santos’ script is utterly compelling and Matthew Xia’s exemplary direction ensures that the pace is never allowed to flag.
Hungry (Roundabout @ Summerhall, Edinburgh)
This sharply written two-hander examines the relationship between Lori (Eleanor Sutton), a chef from a relatively privileged background, and Bex (Melissa Lowe), a waitress from the local estate. This is a cleverly observed exploration of both class and race, brilliantly written and superbly acted. Hungry is a class act, so assured that, even amidst the host of treasures we saw at this year’s Roundabout, it dazzles like a precious gem.
A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings (Summerhall (Main Hall), Edinburgh)
It’s hard to encapsulate what makes this such a powerful and moving experience, but that’s exactly what it is – a spellbinding slice of storytelling, so brilliantly conceived and engineered that it makes the incredible seem real. You’ll believe a man can fly.
The Tragedy of Macbeth (Assembly Roxy, Edinburgh)
Let’s face it, we’ve all seen Macbeth in its various shapes and guises – but I think it’s fairly safe to say we’ve never seen it quite like this. This raucous, visceral reimagining of the story captures the essence of the piece more eloquently than pretty much any other production I’ve seen.
The Beauty Queen of Leenane (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)
This was Martin McDonagh’s debut piece and, while it might not have the assuredness of his later works, it nonetheless displays all the hallmarks of an exciting new talent flexing his muscles. The influence of Harold Pinter is surely there in the awkward pauses, the repetitions, the elevation of innocuous comments to a weird form of poetry – and the performances are exemplary.
Don’t. Make. Tea. (Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh)
Don’t. Make. Tea. is a dystopian vision of an all-too credible near future, a play laced with dark humour and some genuine surprises. Cleverly crafted to be accessible to the widest possible audience, it’s an exciting slice of contemporary theatre.
The frenzy of the Fringe is over. It’s been beyond wonderful to see our city so vibrant again, after two quiet years. We’ve seen a startling range of exciting shows, covering many genres. We’re exhausted – but it’s not quite over yet. It’s time to award our virtual bouquets to the best performances we saw. The standard seemed higher than ever this time: has the break given writers and performers more time to sharpen their acts, or were we just lucky with the productions we chose? Either way, there were lots of contenders in each category, but we’ve narrowed them down to our favourite five.
So, without further ado, we present our choice of the best shows we saw at Edfest 2022.
THEATRE
An Audience with Stuart Bagcliffe (ZOO Playground)
An Audience with Stuart Bagcliffe is the sort of play which exemplifies the Fringe at its best. Written by Benny Ainsworth and directed by Sally Paffett (Triptytch Theatre), this ingeniously constructed monologue features Michael Parker as the titular Stuart, delivering Ainsworth’s script with consummate skill.
A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings (Summerhall)
Based on a short story by Gabriel García Márquez and adapted for the stage by Dan Colley, Manus Halligan and Genevieve Hulme Beaman, this is the tale of Elisenda and Palayo, two impoverished people who live in a rickety shack on the edge of a small town. Their tale is related by Elisenda (Karen McCartney) in a deliciously sinister style. She’s aided by Palayo (Manus Halligan), who barely utters a word, but moves humbly around the stage, using a curious mixture of handicrafts and high-tech devices to illustrate the story – a series of simplistic figurines, illuminated by tiny cameras and lights, take us into their miniature world.
Sap (Roundabout @ Summerhall)
Rafaella Marcus has scripted a deliciously labyrinthine tale about sexual identity (specifically bi-invisibility), one that cleverly assimilates a Greek myth into its core. The maze-like structure is beautifully captured by Jessica Clark and Rebecca Banatvala’s hyper-physical performances, directed by Jessica Lazar and Jennifer Fletcher.
Hungry (Roundabout @ Summerhall)
Chris Bush’s sharply written two-hander examines the relationship between Lori (Eleanor Sutton), a chef from a relatively privileged background, and Bex (Melissa Lowe), a waitress from the local estate. Hungry is a class act, so assured that, even amidst the host of treasures on offer at this year’s Roundabout, it dazzles like a precious gem.
The Tragedy of Macbeth (Assembly Roxy)
Let’s face it, we’ve all seen Macbeth in its various shapes and guises – but I think it’s fairly safe to say we’ve never seen it quite like this. Flabbergast Theatre’s eight-strong cast reel around the stage, plastered in mud and raving and flailing around like demented beings. This is a play about the madness brought on by the seductive power of hubris, so it feels entirely appropriate. It explodes, it capers, it struts its fretful stuff upon the stage and signifies plenty…
COMEDY
Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible is Going to Happen (Roundabout @ Summerhall)
Both Samuel Barnett and Marcelo Dos Santos deserve huge praise for what is undoubtedly one of the best collaborations between writer and performer that I’ve ever witnessed. The narrator is working me like a master magician, mesmerising me, misdirecting me, even scattering a trail of clues which I somehow manage to overlook. The result? When the piece reaches its conclusion, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the solar plexus.
Kylie Brakeman: Linda Hollywood’s Guide to Hollywood (Gilded Balloon Patterhoose)
Making her Edinburgh Fringe debut, Kylie Brakeman delivers her cleverly scripted lines with consummate skill, and the whip-smart, snarky one-liners flow like honey laced with vinegar. It’s more than just a series of laughs. It also nails the cynicism and hypocrisy of the movie industry with deadly precision. I leave convinced that Brakeman (already a major name online, with over sixty million views) is destined to play much bigger venues than this one.
Emily Wilson: Fixed (Pleasance Courtyard)
Emily Wilson’s Fixed is part musical, part stand-up and part catharsis. She appeared on The X Factor USA back in 2011, as one half of the earnestly named duo, Ausem. “Because my best friend’s called Austin, and my name’s Emily, so together we’re Ausem!” She was 15 and thought she was destined to become a star. But then she hit a snag. The judges decided they liked Austin, but not Emily… What emerges is a thoughtful commentary on fame, ambition and exploitation, and it’s riveting.
Christopher Bliss: Captain Wordseye (Pleasance Courtyard)
Christopher Bliss (Rob Carter) is a new name to me and I can only regret that it’s taken me this long to encounter him. He’s that rarest of things, a brilliant character comedian… and a literary genius to boot. I can’t wait for his words of advice on poetry, which I have long considered my Achilles heel…
The Anniversary (Pleasance Dome)
Jim (Daniel Tobias) and Barb (Clare Bartholomew) are eagerly preparing for their 50th wedding anniversary but they’re not always in control of things and some of the items in the finger buffet might better be avoided. This handsomely mounted helping of slapstick from Australian company, Salvador Dinosaur, features no real dialogue, just gibberish and the occasional mention of each other’s names – but the soundtrack is far from silent. It’s essentially a piece about the indignities of ageing, replete with references to forgetfulness, dodgy bowels and the ill-advised over-application of both prescription drugs and prunes. It ought to be tragic but it’s somehow horribly funny.
SPECIAL MENTIONS
Fills Monkey: We Will Drum You (Pleasance Courtyard)
Sebastian Rambaud and Yann Coste are two brilliant percussionists, the kind of people you imagine could go through an entire day without ever breaking beat. They begin with conventional sets of drums, hammering out thrilling polyrhythms as the audience claps along. But they have an air of competitiveness about them and the stakes keep rising. It really helps that the two percussionists are also accomplished clowns. Working under the direction of Daniél Briere, they’ve devised a show that switches back and forth through a whole series of scenarios, never lingering too long in one place to ever feel repetitive.
Manic Street Creature (Roundabout @ Summerhall)
Manic Street Creature, written and performed by Maimuna Memon, is an assured slice of gig theatre that focuses on the subject of mental health from a slightly different perspective – that of the carer. Memon tells the story through a sequence of songs being recorded in a studio session. She’s a confident, assured performer, with a thrilling vocal range, accompanying herself on acoustic and electric guitars, keyboards and shruti box. When everything’s in full flow, the story takes flight and I feel myself propelled along by its urgent, rhythmic pulse.
The Ofsted Massacre (The Space @ Surgeon’s Hall)
Phil Porter’s script feels like it’s been torn from the inside of a stressed-out teacher’s head: a revenge fantasy, born of despair. It’s also a very funny play, drawing on Shakespeare, while lampooning staffroom stereotypes and exposing every cliché. This production, by Kingston Grammar School’s sixth form drama students, is a triumph. The young cast embrace their roles, eliciting gales of laughter from the audience with their well-timed punchlines and impressive slapstick.
Making a Murderer: The Musical (Underbelly Bristo Square)
Like millions of others across the UK, I was transfixed by the Netflix documentary, Making A Murderer – so when I spot a poster on the Royal Mile with the words ‘The Musical‘ tacked onto the end, I’m intrigued – and simultaneously doubtful. Isn’t that going to be… disrespectful? But, in the capable hands of writer Phil Mealey, MAMTM offers a compelling version of the familiar events, a fresh perspective on the story that never feels like a cheap shot. The songs are terrific throughout, ranging from spirited rockers to plaintive ballads. What’s more, the production supports (and is supported by) The Innocence Project.
The Tiger Lillies: One Penny Opera (Underbelly Bristo Square)
Describing an act as ‘unique’ is often considered a cop-out, and yet I can’t think of a more appropriate word to describe The Tiger Lillies, three remarkable musicians currently strutting their inimitable stuff at The Cow Barn on Bristo Square. Originally formed way back in 1989, they’ve been through a number of personnel changes over the years, though the macabre compositions of singer-songwriter Martyn Jacques have remained a constant. They describe themselves as “Brechtian Punk Cabaret”, and who am I to argue with them?
‘Daphne’ (Jessica Clark) is a bisexual woman living in London. She’s working for a charity during the day and, in her free time, she’s making the most of the Capital’s vibrant nightlife. On her daily commute to work, she finds herself inexplicably drawn to a flat she passes. Through an open window, she can see a host of greenery growing within, as though inside it’s a huge forest. She finds this strangely alluring.
At a business meeting, she hooks up with a man, with whom she has a one-night stand. He doesn’t call her back, so she puts it down as one of those things. Then, some time later, at a gay club, she spots a ‘Wonder Woman’, who – she’s sure – is out of her league. She is amazed when the two of them promptly hit it off.
Pretty soon, they are an item, going everywhere together, wanting nobody else. But Daphne has a surprise waiting for her, one that is going to affect her life profoundly…
Sap is one of those plays where you daren’t reveal too much about the story. Suffice to say that Rafaella Marcus has scripted a deliciously labyrinthine tale about sexual identity (specifically bi-invisibility), one that cleverly assimilates a Greek myth into its core. The maze-like structure is beautifully captured by the hyper-physical performances, directed by Jessica Lazar and Jennifer Fletcher. Clarke is a brilliant narrator, inviting the audience into her world with supreme confidence: making them laugh, flirting outrageously with them, making them care about what’s going to happen to her. Rebecca Banatvala plays all the other roles: she’s the one-night-stand, she’s Wonder Woman, she’s over-inquisitive work colleague, Miriam. Again, I don’t want to reveal too much. While Banatvala’s performance is less flamboyant than Clarke’s, she manages to slip effortlessly between her characters, inhabiting them with the merest glance, the smallest gesture. Together, the two actors create a mesmerising partnership.
I’ve already observed that Roundabout are having one hell of a year and Sap is another glittering jewel in an already abundant treasure chest. Grab your tickets for this before they’re all snapped up.
The offerings at Roundabout during Fringe are generally very good, but this year their shows are really knocking it out of the park. If this sounds like my cue to say something like, “unfortunately, not in this case,” please don’t be misled. Feeling Afraid as if Something Terrible is Going to Happen is (apart from its tortuous title) another solid-gold winner. At the packed show we attend, the crowd are clearly spell-bound by Samuel Barnett’s performance and that’s perfectly understandable. He inhabits his role completely, spitting out a constant stream of pithy one liners and wry observations with apparent ease. Marcelo Dos Santos’ script is utterly compelling and Matthew Xia’s exemplary direction ensures that the pace is never allowed to flag.
Barnett plays a thirty-six-year-old comedian (we never actually learn his name), gigging in various pubs and clubs around London. He’s gay and happy to explore his sexuality with the many random strangers he meets online, but things change dramatically for him when he encounters ‘The American,’ a handsome guy who, unlike most of his hookups, is clearly in no great hurry to get him into bed.
As the relationship develops, our nameless protagonist begins to wonder if this might actually be the real thing. You know, love and all that.
But then he learns that The American suffers from a very rare condition…
As I’ve already said, Barnett performs this so confidently that I find myself completely immersed in his story, which struts a masterful path from laugh-out-loud jokes to poignant, heart-tugging observations. I quite overlook the fact that the narrator is working me like a master magician, mesmerising me, misdirecting me, even scattering a trail of clues which I somehow manage to overlook. The result? When the piece reaches its conclusion, I feel as though I’ve been punched in the solar plexus.
Both Barnett and Dos Santos deserve huge praise for what is undoubtedly one of the best collaborations between writer and performer that I’ve ever witnessed – and, once again, Roundabout proves to be the perfect performance space for a show like this.
If Feeling Afraid… isn’t on your bucket list, it’s not too late to put it there. Just saying.
As we take our seats at Roundabout, the heavens are threatening a deluge and the sound of thunder rumbles and reverberates overhead. It provides a suitably dramatic backing track for Hungry by Chris Bush, making its world premiere at Summerhall. This sharply written two-hander examines the relationship between Lori (Eleanor Sutton), a chef from a relatively privileged background, and Bex (Melissa Lowe), a waitress from the local estate. Their first meeting is fractious to say the least but, by the second, Lori is already trying hard to put the new worker at ease and endearingly failing to understand her sly sense of humour.
But it isn’t long before sparks begin to fly – and the two of them become lovers.
The ensuing relationship is told non-chronologically and veers between awkward early encounters to full-on adversarial squabbles, the two actors literally slamming metal food trollies at each other as the conflict builds. It’s perhaps only natural for Lori to want to offer her partner an upgrade in life, to try to encourage her to appreciate the difference between a mousse – sorry, a mousseline – and a ganache, even positing the idea of them running their own ‘soul food’ restaurant, together, but she doesn’t fully understand the implications of what she’s doing, nor the way her interventions make Bex feel.
When Bex’s mother dies Lori tries to muscle in on the catering arrangements and matters inevitably come to a head.
This is a cleverly observed exploration of both class and race, brilliantly written and superbly acted by Sutton and Lowe, who make their characters entirely believable. Director Katie Posner keeps everything stripped back and simple – there’s no need for the distractions of actors miming the acts of ‘eating’ or ‘drinking,’ they are free to circle each other, interacting, exchanging pithy remarks and occasionally kicking off. It’s only in the play’s final scenes that any actual food appears and, when it does, this sudden move into hyper-realism – and the fact that we can actually smell it cooking – amplifies its seductive nature.
Hungry is a class act, so assured that, even amidst the host of treasures on offer at this year’s Roundabout, it dazzles like a precious gem. The standing ovation from the crowd is heartfelt and utterly well-deserved. If you’ve a taste for challenging drama, this is a show you mustn’t miss.
Bouquets & Brickbats 