The Beast's Pen

Photo: Craig Fuller

Writer: Michael McKeever

Director: Alan Souza

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At a time when same sex couples have become able to get married in most Western territories, it seems that many others are losing interest in matrimony. This irony is not lost in American playwright Michael McKeever’s 2022 play, Daniel’s Husband, receiving its United Kingdom premiere here.

 The writer took a scalpel to the hypocrisy of Hollywood in The Code, seen in London earlier this year, and he now cuts just as deep to probe the institution of marriage, coming up with observations that should resonate regardless of gender or sexual orientation. 

Daniel (Joel Harper-Jackson) and Mitchell (Luke Fetherston) have been together for seven years, living in Daniel’s spacious city apartment. They are, effectively, a married couple, except that Mitchell, a successful writer who has sold his soul to the dollar to churn out romantic fiction (“a gay Barbara Cartland”), does not believe in marriage. Daniel argues that getting married would honour the long fight by the LGBT+ community for equality, but Mitchell counters that being allowed to marry is not sufficient reason for actually doing it; in his view, leaving aside legal and tax considerations, marriage is nothing more than a meaningless piece of paper. 

The play begins with the couple hosting a dinner party for Mitchell’s literary agent, Barry (David Bedella) and the latest in his long line of much younger boyfriends, Trip (Raiko Gohara). Later, we are introduced to Lydia, Daniel’s overbearing mother; in a splendidly judged performance, Liza Sadovy walks the line between stereotypical comic mother and arch villain, as Lydia champions modern liberal values while, when she is put to the test, suggesting that she still harbours old prejudices.

In early scenes, McKeever keeps the audience gripped with witty small talk while, almost imperceptibly, building the characters and moving the play forward. The writer’s skill is then matched by an effortless shift in mood from light comedy to intense drams, which is accelerated by a sudden plot development in the middle of the play.

Justin Williams’ imposing set design for Daniel’s loft apartment suggests a warm and comfortable lifestyle. When, occasionally, the writer lays on the emotional stuff too thickly, director Alan Souza needs to apply the brakes to prevent his production drifting towards risible melodrama. He succeeds in keeping the drama intense and authentic, largely thanks to superb, impassioned performances by Harper-Jackson and Fetherston.

Daniel’s Husband offers 90 minutes of quality, thought-provoking theatre and McKeever reaffirms his growing reputation as a writer of significance.

Performance date: 9 December 2025

Phoyp: Lidia Crisafulli

Writer and director: Sarah Shelton

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Rather surprisingly, Sarah Shelton’s Blessings is a new play. It is a family drama that takes place in 1969 and its style feels even more dated than its subject matter or its time setting. Seeing the play performed in the modern fringe venue that is Riverside Studios brings the anachronism into still sharper focus.

The voice of Tony Blackburn telling us to turn off our ‘phones informs us that we are being transported back to the 1960s and snippets from familiar songs scattered throughout the play remind us of the fact. The Deacons are a respectable lower middle class family, living in a small English town. Patriarch Frank (Gary Webster) is the breadwinner, but he faces regular complaints that he withdraws from involvement in family affairs  and he finds solace at the local pub. Matriarch Dorrie (Anna Acton), a staunch Roman Catholic, is, seemingly, the rock that supports the whole family. Her support comes from the parish priest, who is accused of prying too deeply into family business.

Son Martin (Freddie Webster) has already flown the nest for London, but he shows determination to maintain family unity and respectability, particularly when faced with the news that his unmarried teenage sister Frances (Hannah Traylen) is pregnant. Other sisters, Penny (Milly Roberts) and Sally (Emily Lane) face up to their own problems. There is enough meat here for the writer to bite on to extract either comedy or drama, but, by packing the play with sub-plots, she is only able to scratch at the surfaces of both characters and storylines, leaving the actors very little to work with.

In structure and in content the play resembles a very long episode of, say, Eastenders, with a succession of short scenes bringing together characters who then disappear behind the screens which feature in Alice Carroll’s curious set design. The 1960s saw a new age of realism in British drama, but this is rarely reflected in this production and many of the dramatic flashpoints feel lacking in authenticity.

The writer should question the wisdom of directing the play herself. Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes could have added valuable perspectives to the drama and injected life into many leaden scenes. As it is, Shelton seems content for the characters to wander on and off stage and merely speak the lines that she has written. At times, her production looks amateurish, doing little justice to the commitment of six accomplished actors.

Shelton lays to rest the theory that a night out at the theatre should provide a contrast to a night in watching television soaps. Blessings is a mix of tired old plot lines. stilted dialogue and clunky staging. The biggest blessing is the shortish running time, which is under 90 minutes without an interval.

Performance date: 2 October 2025

Photo: Genevieve Girling

Writer: William Shakespeare

Director: Max Webster

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A tale of power struggles, treachery  and violent revenge, William Shakespeare’s “lamentable tragedy”, Titus Andronicus, offers little light relief as an alternative to the mighty news on television. Indeed, director Max Webster’s revival for the Royal Shakespeare Company, first seen at the Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon, has a timeless feel that invites audiences to draw comparisons with modern-day events.

John Hodgkinson, a late replacement for Simon Russell Beale, is commanding and compelling as Titus Andronicus, an ageing Roman general who has ended a ten-year campaign with victory over the Goths, He returns to Rome with the Goth Queen, Tamara (Wendy Kweh) as his prisoner. He rejects advances to become Emperor, instead supporting the previous Emperor’s eldest son, the capricious Saturnius (Max Bennett). When Titus orders the death of Tamara’s eldest son as revenge for his own losses, he sets in motion a cycle of retribution that engulfs the characters and the choice of Tamara to become Saturnius’ wife places a viperous presence at the heart of the Court. Titus asserts : “Rome is but a wilderness of tigers” and he is not wrong.

Surrounded by his sister Marcia (a particularly impressive Emma Fielding), a senator,  his daughter Lavinia (Letty Thomas) and his surviving sons, Titus is effectively at war with Rome’s rulers and striking performances by Kweh and Ken Nwosu as Aaron, Tamara’s lover, define his enemies. Out of this gathering of conspirators, traitors and assassins, Webster crafts a taut and vivid political thriller that is spiced with subtle humour. The director goes easy on explicit blood shedding, preferring to suggest violence with choreographed movement by shadowy figures in half light and the the sudden appearance of a chainsaw is enough to tell us the uses to which it will be put.

Joanna Scotcher’s plain, monochrome set design and nondescript costumes ensure that the focus stays firmly on the actors and their characters’ dastardly deeds. Creative lighting effects, designed by Lee Curan enhance the production’s visual impact. A square thrust stage encases the action, giving a claustrophobic feel of caged animals fighting to the death. The climactic banquet is visually stunning, leaving haunting and grizzly images etched on the memory.

Titus Andronicus is one of Shakespeare’s less frequently performed plays, possibly because the squeamish fear it. Webster’s top class revival goes some way towards correcting perceptions mainly by ensuring that the quality of the acting is the glory amid the gore.

Performance date: 22 September 2025

Photo: Helen Murray

Writer: Ava Pickett

Director: Lindsey Turner

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From the drama and intrigue of the Wolf Hall trilogy and A Man for All Seasons to the musical frivolities of Six, the reign of King Henry VIII continues to grip theatregoers. Playwright Ava Pickett follows this trend with 1536, the title referring to the year in which Anne Boleyn was executed. The play looks at historic events from a very different perspective; it is new writing, tackling age-old issues.

The place is a field in rural Essex, which, in Max Jones’ set design, is overgrown and dominated by the remains of a dead tree. This gives the production a bleak and unforgiving look. Before social media, television, radio and even newspapers, gossip spread far and wide and lowly folk were fascinated by the private affairs of the rich and famous, relating news to their own simper lives. Perhaps little has changed in almost 500 years. As word of Anne Boleyn’s imprisonment in the the Tower of London filters through, women talk of Henry’s Queen as a hapless victim, while men speak of “the great whore”, thereby highlighting the gender divide which Pickett sets out to explore thoroughly and thoughtfully.

Siena Kelly excels as the free-spirited and unapologetically promiscuous Anna. She is unable to resist the sexual advances of the duplicitous Richard (Adam Hugill), even though he is about to marry her best friend, the much more sedate Jane (Liv Hill). These two women meet in the field, along with community midwife Mariella (Tanya Reynolds), who is bitter after being  spurned by William (Angus Cooper). The women gossip and catch up on the latest news from London, all of it grim for Queen Anne.

From here, Pickett allows a soap-style plot to drive the play to its dramatic conclusion, leaving herself ample room to expose the cruel injustices of a male dominated society. Her focus is entirely on the three women and her writing includes no sympathy for the men whose actions are inspired by the behaviour of their role model, the King.

Kelly, Hill and Reynolds all give passionate performances, bringing out the individual plights of three very different personalities. They style themselves as modern day Essex girl stereotypes, encouraged by dialogue that is embellished by over-generpus sprinklings of the “f” word. In the play’s early stages, some of their banter is very funny on the level of a sitcom such as Blackadder, but, overall, this proves to be a minor distraction from the writer’s main purpose.

There is more than enough meat to sustain the drama for its 110-minute running time and performing it without an interval helps greatly in building up intensity. Under the assured direction of Lindsey Turner, 1536 moves effortlessly from inconsequential comedy to high drama, leading up to a climax that is memorably powerful.

Performance date: 13 May 2025

Photo: Manuel Harlan

Writer and director: Conor McPherson

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Taking its title from a poem by WB Yeats, Conor McPherson’s new play is here receiving its world premiere in a production directed by the writer himself. The Brightening Air fills the Old Vic with a distinct scent of Ireland and it feels something like becoming re-acquainted with old friends.

The setting is Sligo on the north-western Irish coast, the time is the 1980s. Stephen (Brian Gleeson) and his sister Billie (Rosie Sheehy) live together in what has always been their family home, a run-down farmhouse. Their wayward, dissolute brother Dermot (Chris O’Dowd) has long since flown the nest and is scornful of his siblings’ inertia. He turns up displaying his new 19-year-old girlfriend Freya (Aisling Kearns) in front of his still doting estranged wife Lydia (Hannah Morrish) and their children. 

Into the mix is thrown Uncle Pierre (a show-stealing turn by Seàn McGinley), a former priest who has big ideas for the house of which he claims part ownership by inheritance. From then on, there is minimal  plot in an inaction-packed piece that becomes almost entirely character driven. Drawing humour from the characters’ quirkiness, the writer explores how home means different things to different people and how the pursuit of personal goals can impact on others.

The absence of a formal set robs the drams of some of its flavour. Furniture is scattered around an often crowded open stage, against a darkened background, with characters wandering on and off, unhindered by doors. There is no sense of this being a family home and sometimes the action looks static, actors lined up like in a doctor’s waiting room. It is as if McPherson is trying too hard to dodge visual clichés that could have added  to the unavoidable ones in his play; his approach has created a production that may have been much better suited to an in-the-round staging.

McPherson and some other contemporary dramatists seem to see Chekhovian themes as linked inexorably to Irish life.  Here again we have unrequited passion, unfulfilled potential, yearning to break free and the unstoppable force of change. Characters loathe each other and resent their mutual dependence, filling the comedy-drama with rancour that is fuelled by the writer’s brittle humour. However, is any of this new, particularly in a rural Irish setting? McPherson’s play may promise breaths of fresh air, but it delivers too many gusts of déjà vu. 

Notwithstanding these reservations, there is much to savour. McPherson’s writing blends spiky wit with lyrical reflections and the characters are brought to life vividly by uniformly superb performances. We may have seen it all before, but we can feel content to experience it again.

Performance date: 24 April 2025

Photo: Manuel Harlan

Writer: Oliver Cotton

Director: Trevor Nunn

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Prepare to be transported back to the 18th Century. Having begun life in the Regency splendour of Bath’s Theatre Royal, Oliver Cotton’s 1747-set play, The Score, now finds a seemingly natural new home at the London equivalent, the Theatre Royal Haymarket. The question is whether or not the production, with veteran director Trevor Nunn at the helm, is destined to feel more than a couple of hundred years past its sell-by dare.

Contrasting the Earthly with the Heavenly, Cotton’s play revisits many of the themes of Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus. On this occasion, the composer is Johann Sebastian Bach, a 62-year-old with failing eyesight. He lives in Leipzig, a city recently overrun by Prussia, whose KIng, Frederick II, summons him to his court. Bach is devoutly religious and loathes warfare, while Frederick is an atheist  who, instinctively, leads armies into battle. They are opposites drawn together by a common love of music.

Brian Cox’s Bach barks loudly and often. The Scottish actor who  once played Hannibal Lecter seems born for this role and his commanding performance, inevitably, fights off all comers to grab centre stage and hold onto it. Stephen Hagan’s slightly effete Frederick is not the warrior King that the early dialogue leads us to expect, but his nonchalant air makes him a fascinating foil for Cox’s bellowing Bach.

Bach leaves behind his doting wife Anna (Nicole Ansari-Cox) in Leipzig and answers the KIng’s call to his court in Potsdam. There he is greeted by his young son Carl (Jamie Wilkes), who holds a position there, and by the friendly maid Emilia (Juliet Garricks), who recounts stories from Frederick’s past. The King’s constant companion is the French philosopher Voltaire, played in flamboyant style by Peter De Jersey. Nunn’s production is mounted handsomely, with Robert Jones’ unfussy set designs transitioning effortlessly between Bach’s humble home and the Royal Palace.

The play’s big flaw is a slow-paced first act in which it takes the two main protagonists four scenes and almost an hour to come face-to-face. The result is all talk and hardly any dramatic tension. Happily, things improve immeasurably after the interval when the writing becomes more eloquent and focussed and the acting more powerful. Frederick and his sycophantic courtiers bet against Carl that “old” Bach will not be able to improvise on a theme composed by the King; this brings a refreshing dash of fun to scenes that could have, otherwise, become too dry.

Bach argues that music emerges from divine intervention, even when it comes into the head of a non-believer such as Frederick. This belief provides the play with one of its central theses, the other being the morality of war and oppression. In this, Frederick can be seen as an arrogant autocrat who compares with certain modern day figures, but, otherwise, the play is little more than a dip into history, imperfect yet nonetheless entertaining.

Performance date: 28 February 2025