York Theatre Royal, 6 March 2019

It doesn’t take long to realise why Emma Rice might have chosen to adapt Angela Carter’s last novel, Wise Children, for the debut of her new company bearing the same name. An unapologetic celebration of theatricality in all its glorious, glamorous, shady and seedy forms, it allows Rice to do what she (and Carter) does best, which is to tell stories about the very base aspects of what it is to be human in the most magical, dark and captivating ways.

Wise Children begins on the 75th birthday of identical twin sisters Dora and Nora Chance, played by Gareth Snook and Etta Murfitt respectively, and narrates the tale of their theatrical dynasty family. We follow the Chance twins from conception through their lives as showgirls in a tale that is comedic and tragic in equal measure, and explores themes of illegitimacy, fatherhood, womanhood, and the overwhelming joy but great despair and sacrifice that comes with choosing to live a life fearlessly doing what you love.

The production is an ensemble piece through and through, and when I say there isn’t a performer in the show who isn’t incredible, I truly mean it. Kneehigh regular (there are a few of them in this production and I am not complaining) Katy Owen steals the show as the nude and crude adoptive mother of the twins, Grandma Chance, and again later as one half of the rambunctious Hazard twins. Mirabelle Gremaud is enchanting as Young Nora and Pretty Kitty, as well as in several ear-tingling musical moments, and Melissa James and Omari Douglas are the embodiment of wide-eyed seductive youth as Showgirl Dora and Nora. 

There casting is as much an exercise in imagination and theatricality as the story itself. Characters are not bound by rules of gender, race or nationality, in a way that riffs on identity, gender and ageing, and harks back to theatre’s gender-bending Shakespearean past.

Vicki Mortimer’s beautifully crafted set and Malcolm Rippeth’s often spellbinding lighting design move the play seamlessly through time and place while always maintaining a sense of continuity. We see glimpses of the wings, see the actors warming up their impossibly pliable limbs before the show starts and chatting amongst themselves and the audience in the interval. After all, this is as much a story of what goes on behind the curtain as in front of it.

The production gives to its audience richly – we are flung from high brow to low brow, joy to despair in the blink of an eye, through song, dance, sex and heartbreak. Where at times the theatrical in-jokes can feel a little smug, they never linger for long enough for the feeling to stick. 

Wise Children is carnivalesque, Shakespearean and at times surreal – a fairy tale that most certainly isn’t suitable for children. For all its riotous joy, there is always a sense of darkness just beneath the surface. Rice calls Carter’s book a ‘love letter to theatre’, and I can’t see how anyone who has fallen for the theatre could not love this play.

Wise Children is at York Theatre Royal until 16 March, before continuing on tour.

By Fun in the Oven Theatre in collaboration with Teatro en Vilo

York Theatre Royal, 22 Nov 2018

Through physical theatre and contemporary sound design, Fun in the Oven and Teatro en Vilo aim to offer rare insight into the lives of the oft-forgotten heroines of the munitions workers dubbed the Canary Girls. 

Canary is a glimpse into the often overlooked but hugely culturally significant role of women in WWI, telling their stories through Anges, Anne and Betty, three completely different women who are doing their bit for the war effort working in a munitions factory.

The fantastic concept and the three performers that carry this production are its greatest strengths. Katie Tranter plays the leader of the group Agnes with stoicism and humour, Robyn Hambrook is prissy and particular as the upper class Anne, and Alys North is for me the highlight as Betty, playing the young girl with panache, perfect comedic timing and buckets of energy.

The visual design and costuming are glorious. The dirtied yellow faces and rough and ready jumpsuits are full of quirky character that verges on steampunk. It feels fun and interesting, like you’re one step away from smelling fumes and hearing the clanging of machinery.

Unfortunately, it pains me to say that’s where the positives run dry. I get more excited about physical theatre than any other type of performance, but its success relies so heavily on it being expertly executed. All too often in this production the movement just wasn’t quite tight enough, not quite precise enough. 

I loved the sound design, it was a perfect mix of early 1900s ‘keep calm and carry on’ charm and creepy dystopian propaganda, expertly voiced by Lawrence Neale. But the choreography felt like it was just short of perfect, and if the two don’t work in perfect harmony then you start to feel on edge as an audience member. I want to feel safe in the hands of the performers, and in terms of the physical side of the performance, I just didn’t.

The pacing of the piece also let it down. The focal point of the production is an air raid that shuts down the factory and leaves our three protagonists to amuse themselves through a series of games, confessions, trips (yes, I mean the drug induced kind) and conversations through which they reveal dreams of freedom, football and forbidden friendships. 

The way this played out was through a series of what almost felt like stand-alone vignettes, little self contained stories that would begin with light hearted fun, build up to an emotional moment and end with an awkward silence. This played out several times in a row, which interrupted the natural pacing of how I feel a narrative should develop and often made the emotional impact of the stories feel stilted. I didn’t feel any build up in the piece as a whole, or get a sense of the evolution of these women’s relationships. I was left feeling that where I should have felt moved I felt cold, because I had no concept of a narrative arc or any attachment to these characters.

I don’t usually speak with this kind of candor about productions that I have a less positive response to. However, I feel like I want to in this instance because Canary has such potential. The actors are fantastic, the concept is beautiful and the stories that are layered into this piece are bursting to be told. For me, the production feels underdeveloped – it feels as if its on the precipice of tipping over into greatness but just needs to be tightened up. These are clearly a hugely talented company with great ideas and vision, and I hope they continue to grow and live up to their potential in future shows. I’ll be watching with interest!

Fulford Arms, 26 Nov 2018

Say Owt are York’s resident poetry gurus and last Monday they and Scottish spoken word artists Sonnet Youth hosted a night at the Fulford Arms that promised to be a literary house party, part poetry slam, part open mic, part piss-up.

They delivered on that promise with a mix of poetry, comedy and music that showcased some of Yorkshire (and Scotland)’s most exciting talent and is just another reason why I’ll always stick two fingers up to anyone who suggests that London is the place to be for creatives.

Cat Hepburn and Kevin P. Gilday of Sonnet Youth compared and kicked off both halves of the night, and in doing so demonstrated why they’re names to remember. Hepburn’s excerpts from her book #girlhood riffed on growing up as a girl in modern times, and featured a genius spoken word re-telling of Christina Aguilera’s modern cinematic masterpiece, ‘Dirrty’ (and no that’s not a typo). Gilday similarly tackled masculinity, porn and poetry with laugh-out-loud humour and some delicious rhymes – and I agree with you buddy, rhyming makes my ears happy and rhyme snobs can do one.

The open mic slots were filled by some of York’s finest; Say Owt’s own Hannah Davies – who’s voice I later realised seemed so familiar because I’d heard it not long ago in CGT’s Baba Yaga – and Henry Raby, and the ethereal Hannah Lasagne (what a name) were highlights.

The thing that struck me most, and the reason I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for spoken word, was how massively varied the performers and styles of poetry were. We’re given a pretty narrow idea of what poetry is growing up – it’s all twee rhymes when you’re little and then maybe a bit of Carol Ann Duffy and Simon Armitage thrown in when you’re doing your GCSEs. Don’t get me wrong, there’s some great poetry there, but when you’re 15 and having it dryly explained to you for an hour a week and it’s only ever two dimensional words on a page, it doesn’t feel like much to get excited about.

Collectives like Say Owt and Sonnet Youth give poetry the context it deserves. Poetry is at its best when its literary performance; a living, breathing ode to language and rhythm and real voices. And all those things are remarkably diverse. Every performer we saw last week had a different tone, a different accent, a different style or subject matter. That’s something to get excited about.

It wasn’t all just poetry though. Comedy was provided by Daniel Nicholas who I had the pleasure of catching a couple of times over the Fringe this year and who, despite some delightfully peculiar bits and awkward yoga poses, always manages to come off as completely charming and bizarrely hilarious. Music came in the form of two piece acoustic psycho thrashabilly blues band Dead Drummer, who brought the house down with their unique brand of, well, two piece acoustic psycho thrashabilly blues. They’re a bit like if the Cramps and Slipknot had a baby and someone threw a double bass at it. Yeah.

If there’s one thing I’d say that wasn’t always super fun, it would be that at times the atmosphere started to verge on the side of…smug. I’m cringing as I write it, but slam poetry has a reputation for being too cool for a reason, and I think that Say Owt could bear that in mind a little when they’re hosting gigs. When the hosts (I’m excluding Sonnet Youth from this – y’all were a joy) are all sat with their mates whooping and bantering on one side of the pub and the audience is on the other, it can feel at times like you’ve wandered into a private poetry party. It’s not a huge criticism, but I think the magic of gigs like these should be in their inclusivity, and it’s a shame for something to encroach on that.

Saying that, I’ll be back to check out one of Say Owt’s regular nights. It’s something different and it feel a bit more electric than your average open mic. It was a nice reminder of why I love poetry and language and why I keep writing, and aside from that it was a good time. Next time I hope it’s not on a school night so I can have myself a proper poetry piss-up though. Cheers.

by Charlotte Keatley

London Classic Theatre

York Theatre Royal, 20 November

Charlotte Keatley’s My Mother Said I Never Should is an important play for me. When I was 17 my wonderful drama teacher chose it as our A Level performance piece; we studied it, rehearsed it, spoke about it and our own experiences of being women. I can’t say I loved it at every moment during that period – cutting a play to smithereens to accommodate just two actors, a limited timeframe and the arbitrary requirements of a travelling examiner doesn’t generally make for a thorough appreciation of a play – but I can’t say it didn’t have a lasting impact on me.

A lot has changed for me personally since then; I’ve gone to university (in Manchester no less, which is partiuclarly relevant to this play), had jobs, learned to small talk, been unbelievably sad and unbelievably happy, got myself a Dan and known all sorts of people. It’s also been enough time to get some perspective on some of the more difficult family stuff I was in the midst of when I was a teenager. Safe to say this production was a lovely reminder of how much we change and learn without even realising it, as well as a reminder of how important relationships are seldom easy.

The play follows four generations of women from the same family across several decades of their lives, centring around Jackie’s decision to give her infant daughter Rosie to her mother to raise. It examines their relationships with one another, and how they are shaped by their expectations of each other and themselves, exploring the cost of freedom and change. It is very much a play of its time, (something that is shouted loud and clear by the fantastic costuming in LCT’s production – I’m looking at you purple jumpsuit), but that is by no means to suggest it is not still blisteringly relevant.

Part of the allure of this play to a young Sarah who had grown up reading, watching, and largely admiring solely male protagonists (to the detriment of my self image) was its placing the female experience, and therefore female actors, front and centre. The four actors in LCT’s production are fantastic. Carole Dance as Doris, Connie Walker as Margaret, Kathryn Ritchie as Jackie and Felicity Houlbrooke as Rosie are all completely distinct characters and yet strikingly familial.

The portrayal of the complexity of their relationships and the subtlety of the traits and anxieties that have been passed down through generations is not only a testament to Keatley’s writing, but to the emotional dexterity of these actors. To portray the push and pull of love, resentment and the desire for independence that feels pretty universal to the female experience is no easy feat, and the performances felt steeped in personal experience.

The realism in the dialogue and performances is all the more important in contrast to the abstract nature of the set – in this case a haunting and surprisingly versatile junkyard designed by Bek Palmer. I was easily transported from 1940s living room to 1980s office without having to stretch my imagination through the strength of the performances.

I have always struggled with the parts of this play involving the actors playing children, but I will say Dance and Walker in particular managed to pull these difficult segments off with surprising innocence and charm. Whilst I don’t think I’ll ever be completely comfortable with it – and I don’t think we’re necessarily meant to be – I got much more of a sense of the importance of those sections seeing them brought to life by such accomplished actors.

I was struck by so many things that had never occurred to me before I had the chance to see this play as it is meant to be seen. There is a sense of energy and urgency amongst the women that I found strangely moving, probably because it reminded me so strongly of so many of my favourite women. I also realised how incredibly keenly observed much of the dialogue is; I feel like every other line I was thinking it was like listening to my mum, or my sister, or Dan’s gran.

I was surprised by how much My Mother Said spoke to me, and in such a different way to when I was a teenager. I suspect that I will respond to it completely differently in another 10 years time and that is a rare thing for a piece of writing or performance to accomplish. I could go on and on. The bottom line is that I am hugely grateful to LCT for taking this production around the country and I feel very lucky that they stopped in York. I’ve very much hijacked this review to talk about my feelings but hear me when I say this was a beautifully put together and acted production. They have taken Keatley’s script and brought it to its full potential, and it’s something I think any person who is, or loves, or knows women should see.

York is the last stop on LCT’s tour so there’s not much time left, but see My Mother Said I Never Should at York Theatre Royal until this Saturday 24 November.

By Gecko

17th October, York Theatre Royal 

After an international tour and a run at the wonderful Battersea Arts Centre during which their set was destroyed by a fire and incredibly rebuilt in just eight days, York has the privilege of hosting physical theatre company Gecko’s Missing. Despite, or perhaps precisely because of, the rich life this production has already had, it is brimming with all the energy and electricity of a show on opening night.

Loosely, Missing takes the audience on a journey into the psyche of Lily (played by Katie Lusby), a woman who has all the things we are told to want – a successful career, friends, a husband – but finds that something is still missing. Through an incredible spectacle of movement, sound, memory and even puppetry, we are witness to her experience of reconnecting with her roots and reshaping her own identity.

From the very start Missing crackles with emotion. We are thrown into Lily’s fast–paced world with a flurry of perfectly executed choreography that’s fluid one second but sharp and angular the next; painting a picture of a life that’s all smiles on the surface but disturbed underneath. The performers breathe, shout and whisper in time with their movements while music and multilingual recorded sound create a vibrant soundscape.

There are a host of visually stunning moments, from a chaotic work environment created with swirling lit screens and coffee cups, to the hazy screens held in front of performers to create a window into Lily’s memories. A more evocative portrayal of memory on stage I have never seen; Lily remembers impressions of events as the screens hover on hands, legs and clothing. Voices are loud and confused, with snippets of coherence. The emotion attached to a memory permeates every aspect of it as it replays and rewinds before our eyes.

Each performer in the small company of five is perfectly cast and masterful in their performance. Lusby portrays a palpable sense of quiet desperation as Lily; Gecko’s creative director Amit Lahav is mesmerising as a charming but mystical drifter, whispering sweetly in Italian as he draws Lily out of herself; Lucia Chocarro is the embodiment of feminine passion and cool allure as Lily’s Spanish mother.

The immense skill behind how they manipulate their bodies is almost easy to overlook because it appears so natural. In one striking memory Chocarro twists herself back and forth as the scene rewinds itself, to incredible effect. At times they flit from one emotion to another, one movement to another, in perfect time with striking sounds. They perform from beginning to end with a frenetic energy that is difficult to look away from, creating a visual landscape that is both dreamlike and acutely relatable.

Physical theatre is the reason I fell in love (sop alert, sorry about it) with theatre, because I think it has limitless potential for creativity. In Missing, Gecko have proved this and then some. By combining movement, sound, storytelling and visual art they have created a piece which is deeply emotive in a way that transcends language. It beautifully captures the visceral power of childhood memories and their lasting impact on the way we relate to ourselves.

If you don’t trust me, take it from DanMan – he, who has been with me for 90% of all the theatre I have seen over the past six years, turned to me at the end and said ‘that was the best thing I have ever seen’. I could go on for a very long time about the incredible amount of detail that has gone into this production, but if I were to list every highlight I would end up writing a play by play of every moment of this thoroughly enchanting piece. So the only alternative I have is to implore you: go and see this show.

Missing is at York Theatre Royal until 20 Oct, before playing Nottingham and Southampton early next year.

By Common Ground Theatre and Hannah Bruce & Co.

6th October, Piccadilly Car Park

York Mediale festival kicked off for the very first time last week and, typically, I missed almost all of it because I was in stupid London. However, I managed to squeeze in a cheeky show at the end of the festival – Common Ground Theatre and Hannah Bruce & Co’s site specific audio re-telling of Baba Yaga.

Despite being a former theatre student and having an embarrassingly pretentious-sounding preference for non-traditional theatre, I’ve actually never attended this kind of production before, so wasn’t fully aware of what to expect. I downloaded an app and put in the unique code that had been emailed to me, and was instructed to turn up at the bus stop outside Topshop with my phone and a pair of headphones no later than 7pm, when the piece would begin. It was all very fun and mysterious. I was a little bit nervous. I felt a little bit like an undercover agent.

Instead of being ambushed by a witch outside a darkened bus stop like I was half expecting, I was greeted by a lovely York Mediale team member who checked by app was synced, and then waited with a wonderfully diverse group of audience members for the piece to begin.

What followed was an audio experience that took us up into Piccadilly car park, pausing at various spots to hear the story of Lisa, who’s life and grip on reality is beginning to crumble as she experiences visions of the titular witch Baba Yaga. Her story is told partly through monologue, partly through echoes of conversations. The sound recordings are dreamy and immersive, with the speech elements really feeling as if the characters were behind you.

The piece was punctuated by little events that felt part of the piece – an empty lift descended and opened just at the right moment; the story-teller instructed us where to go based on incidental-looking landmarks (a bin bag, a pile of traffic cones). I found myself looking around suspiciously – was the woman who just bustled past a part of the piece, or just a passer-by? Is that parked car meant to belong to Lisa, or just the sign of a late-night shopper? At times, it really felt like were following the ghosts of moments in time.

And all too quickly it was over. We made our way down towards the exit to the car park and just as I was expecting the next piece of the story, the credits began to be spoken to through my headphones. I couldn’t believe it had already been half an hour – and this can only be a good sign coming from someone who explicitly does not enjoy standing around in cold carparks. The piece was a work in progress, a pilot to test out the format that will hopefully be developed into a full piece, and I’ll be first in line to buy tickets if it does.

The taster left me wanting more and excited about the possibilities of where Common Ground could take the story – I hope they build on those elements which blended the words we were hearing and the physical aspects of the environment around us. I would love to see them play with messing with our minds more, having flashes of movement out of the corner of your eye or real time sounds mixed with the audio. Whatever they decide to do with it, I can’t wait.

Now clearly, I’ve let myself down terribly; I got busy and tired and failed to write a single piece and it’s been like three weeks since the festival ended and I’m kicking myself for letting things slip. And despite the urge to let my feelings for these shows fade into the ether while I frolic about in the (rapidly disappearing) sunshine, some of the comedians and shows I saw were simply too good not to shout about in some way or another. So I give you, sweet reader, the lazy girl’s way of cramming a load of stuff that should have been lots of posts into one much easier post: THE ROUND UP.

So feast your eyeholes on my top picks of the Great Yorkshire Fringe 2018.

Sarah Keyworth: Dark Horse

Pals, Ms Keyworth’s show was not only the very first show I saw on the very first day of the Fringe, but it was without a doubt my very very favourite. Sarah’s show about gender and what it means to be a girl was hilarious, moving (seriously guys I welled up at one point) and devastatingly/delightfully relatable to anyone who’s ever felt at odds with what we’re told makes us women and girls (which, let’s face it, is basically every girl ever). My boy mates loved it too, and I urge everyone lucky enough to be up in Edinburgh this month to go and see her. Also, she told a joke about a moon cup that made my entire year. It doesn’t get better than that.

Joe Sutherland: Toxic

Another stellar show about gender but this time from the other side, Joe Sutherland’s work-in-progress looked at modern masculinity from a fun and fresh perspective. While Joe’s piece wasn’t as polished as Sarah’s (yet – it was still in development so I expect great things of the finished result!), there’s just something about the way he carried himself and delivered his jokes that made the whole thing a good time. As an audience, you want to feel that a comedian has command of the room and Joe delivered that in spades, somehow managing to appeal to every one of the small but (kind of bizarrely) diverse audience despite the modern subject matter. Throw in a bucket full of genuine giggles and you’ve got yourself a show worth seeing.

Notflix 

Last year I was pretty excited to see Showstopper! The Improvised Musical and it didn’t disappoint, so give me an all-female i

mprovised musical with a name based on my most loved and enduring companion and I’m practically breaking down the doors to get in. To make it more exciting, the suggestion that formed the basis of the show belonged to our very own DanMan – that’s my manfriend, for any curious minds – who threw out Silence of the Lambs, the little freak (my suggestion was Nightmare on Elm Street, so you can see why we’re together).  What ensued was an hour of genuinely laugh out loud songs and frolics from a group of incredible gals most of whom clearly knew nothing of Silence of the Lambs, which only made the play more hilarious.

It wasn’t as tight or ‘professional’ as Showstopper!, but that only worked in their favour as the moments of corpsing were brilliant and the girls’ silly sense of humour was right up my street. It felt like we were laughing with them for the entire performance, and I was truly impressed with their quick thinking and some great moments of quick wit. All the girls are incredible talents (Ailis Duff’s Hannibal Lector and Emma Read’s ill-fated tailor’s apprentice were particular highlights) and you only have to look at their success to know that they’re something special. I’d say go and see it in Edinburgh if you can – but I doubt you’ll be able to get tickets!

Best of the Rest

Thespianage – Improv is always a risk, but when it’s done well, it’s so worth it. Thespianage take the route of using games of Who’s Line Is It Anyway? ilk, which is the perfect format to spend time on the good bits and hurry along the not-so-successful bits. Luckily, there were good bits a-plenty from this Manchester based troupe; an hour of one-of-a-kind fun!

Burning Duck Comedy Club – Pegged as York’s best ‘alternative’ comedy night, we ended up going twice during the week and weren’t disappointed either time. Saying that, our first visit on the Wednesday was particularly fantastic, with the best compere I’ve ever seen and two comedians we ended up seeing the full shows of later in the week: Struan Logan and Dan Nicholas (also both worth looking up). We’ll be back to one of their regular nights at the Black Swan.

By Metta Theatre

4th April, York Theatre Royal

A circus-inspired retelling of the classic Hans Cristian Andersen tale, Metta Theatre’s new adaptation of The Little Mermaid promised impressive acrobatics, a haunting original soundtrack and a story to captivate all ages. What it delivers doesn’t quite reach those lofty goals, but is an enjoyable production with moments of brilliance nonetheless.

To get the less than great parts out of the way; many of the acrobatics felt a little clumsy, or you didn’t feel completely confident that the performer was going to pull whatever they were attempting off. What should have been seamless, flowing movement (these are meant to be mermaids, remember!) unfortunately sometimes felt quite shaky and clunky. The music, whilst original and not without its excellent moments, was a little repetitive and the mix of live and recorded didn’t sit right with me.

However, there are some great elements to this production. The parts of the story which took place on land tended to be stronger, with some excellent slapstick comedy that had the kids laughing, and moments of innovative costuming with exposed boning on the ladies’ dresses that made for some striking images and added a modern fairy-tale feel that the rest of the visuals were somewhat lacking. Some of the circus sequences were fantastic, with swirling aerial hoop routines and Roo Jenkins-Jones’ magic on the cyr wheel (or, ‘big twirly hoop thing’ as I was calling it before a crafty Google). There were a few ‘aaah’ moments from the audience as cast members stacked themselves three people tall or leapt into each other’s arms from impressive heights.

For me the absolute star of the show was the actress who played both oldest sister Careful and the Tailor, Rosalind Ford – what a talent. She provided the standout moment of the production as the OTT Tailor, pinching, prodding and operatically warbling (at one point whilst in a split, no less) her way into my heart. Her vocals were incredible and her ability to sing whilst playing the cello so beautifully (also to seemingly hold up said cello with only her mind – seriously, how was she holding it up? How?!) had me captivated.

So whilst I wish that more of the production had been elevated to the level we caught glimpses of here and there, perhaps with more humour and more commitment to providing the enchanting magic we expect from a modern fairy-tale, the most important thing I took from this show was that it’s great for children. There was laughter, gasping and even at one dramatic moment an expertly timed, ‘she can’t give up!’ from a little girl behind us, which told me that the swathes of kids around us were having a good time. And not just for little mermaids – there was a great message about all the different ways men can be strong that all the little mermen out there should hear too.

Metta Theatre’s Little Mermaid is on at York Theatre Royal from the 4^th– 7^th April (so you’ve got a couple of shows left!).

Summary: A fairy-tale adaptation that doesn’t quite reach its full potential but delivers some standout moments, and is great for little’uns.

By Kieran Hurley

Thursday 22nd February, York Theatre Royal

There’s always a moment of hesitation for me before going to watch a one man/woman show. Can just one person hold a room for an hour? Can just one person provide enough variety to keep me engaged? And every time I’ve come out of a one person show, I’ve left assured that the answer to those questions is, resoundingly, yes. Kieran Hurley’s Heads Up was no different.

With only a table, a candle and two soundboards in front of him, Hurley tells the story of the moments preceding the end of the world from the perspective of four different characters; Mercy, a highly-strung office worker with a knack for predicting futures; Ash, a 12-year-old girl hiding from the fallout of her ex sending private pictures of her around the school; Leon, a narcissistic, coke-snorting pop star; and Abdullah, a shift-worker coping with his place as a reluctant cog-in-the-capitalist-machine with spliffs and painkillers.

The play is very much an exercise in story-telling as opposed to a typically acted-out piece – which is not to say it is lacking in atmosphere or drama. Hurley sits for most of the production, with two front lights silhouetting his torso dramatically in the background and the soundboard providing Michael John McCarthy’s jarring, starkly atmospheric, soundscape. He brings each character to life with subtle but distinct changes to voice, diction and physicality, his lilting Scottish accent switching from comforting to vulnerable to deranged with each change in character and setting.

The script is a tour de force of storytelling which is truly given an opportunity to shine in this production, the deftness of Hurley’s writing spinning a tale that is engaging and darkly funny in equal measure. Punctuated with gripping dramatic moments that shake you awake and lift it from a theatrical reading to a piece of real drama, the show confronts us with questions about our place in the world and the nature of the world as we know it. It’s an examination of human connection (or our lack thereof), and where our current state of disengagement and self-destruction might lead us.

I’m certainly not the first to say it – Head’s Up won a Scotsman Fringe First award at the 2016 Edinburgh Fringe and Hurley has been getting some pretty stellar praise for a few years now – but this is a show that stands out from the crowd for both its format and content, and Hurley is certainly a talent to watch.

Summary: A blistering but lyrical monologue that will have you on the edge of your seat and leaving the theatre with a pervasive feeling of existential dread – in the very best way.

York Barbican, Saturday 24^th February 2018

Gin lovers of the UK, rejoice! Gin Festival is stuffed full of tasty gins just waiting to be sipped, and it’s (probably) coming to a city (relatively) near you! Last weekend the festival made its first northern pit stop at York’s Barbican, and I was pretty thrilled to be asked to come along, get tipsy on some delicious gins and share my thoughts.

Turning up for the Saturday evening session I was a little nervous to be announcing myself as a blogger so I could actually get in (#blogwanker), but the welcome couldn’t have been nicer and we were ushered to the entrance by a couple of bubbly staff members and given a welcome speech explaining how things worked and where everything was. Then we were handed a cute little tote bag containing our Gin Festival glasses (which we used during the event and then got to keep), brochures telling us about all the available gins, press passes (I’ve never felt so important), wrist bands for paying at the bars and a couple of other VIP goodies. After which we were released into the festival, briefed and thoroughly ready for gin.

On our walk over we’d been musing about how the Barbican would work for the event as I’ve only ever seen it fully chaired up for sit-down shows, but it transformed remarkably well into a much more open-plan space; a small shop area was situated in the foyer and the main hall was lined with bars, food stalls (which we didn’t manage to sample but they looked and smelled delicious) and brand stands with the stage occupied by a vintage-style band (followed by an excellent Mumford and Sons-esque cover band) that provided a live soundtrack to our gin consumption, and some seating and milling space in the middle. The energy was up and the floor was full of gin lovers when we arrived, and we headed to one of the easy to spot top up stands to put some credit on our wristbands, then headed straight to the bar. The wristband system worked incredibly well as a swift ‘boop’ of a wristband was all that was needed for payment, so the queues were fast moving and we never felt like we were waiting for too long.

My first gin was the Aduro Pink Passion gin, which came recommended by the festival as one of their top 10s, which was floral and fruity with just the right amount of sweetness, suitably garnished with raspberry, mint and orange. DanMan went for a more unusual choice of Aduro Bell Pepper gin, which was unsurprisingly accompanied by red pepper and tasted, unsurprisingly, quite a lot like bell pepper. Although unusual it was actually quite delicious and definitely one to try if you’ve got more savoury tastes, and it piqued my interest to try a more out-there gin for my next choice.

Whilst sipping our Aduros we meandered over to the brand stalls (did someone say free samples?), where brand reps were giving out tasters along with information about some select gins. Highlights were the lovely Bernadette telling us about the British made, Spanish style Tinker which had the robust citrus flavours I’d expect from a Spanish style gin. Brockman’s was recommended as an ‘end of the night’ gin and had distinctly adult branding – leather aprons included – and a wonderfully palatable flavour bursting with blueberries even when sipped straight. Kuro was a Japanese inspired option that was less distinctly flavoured than the others and would probably suit more earthy tastes. Safe to say we left that section of the festival feeling a bit merrier than when we arrived.

By the time we’d finished taste testing from tiny sample cups of gin we were more than ready for a full size portion of gin, and this time we both went for a more savoury option; the gorgeously named Black Tomato. It came garnished with basil which is a favourite flavour of mine, and oh my, it tasted like a greenhouse with a refreshing tomato tang and the perfect balance of sweet and savoury. It was my favourite of the night by far because of how unexpected it was and suited to my particular tastes, but I imagine it wouldn’t be for everyone. It’s worth mentioning here that all the gins also came with a mixer recommendation that the bar staff very helpfully pointed out to us, and although I’m usually a gin and soda gal (like nobody else, ever, apparently – I just think tonic usually tastes icky? No?) I went with it and stuck to the recommendations and, you know, I think I just might be a bit of a tonic convert! The Black Tomato came with salty lemon tonic which complemented it perfectly despite sounding like something that would make you scrunch up your nose.

At £5 for each G&T the drinks were reasonably priced considering the quality of both the spirits and the mixers, and as such we ended up going for an unplanned third drink as there was so much to try. I went for Tinker Pink which was delightfully sweet with a definite taste of strawberries and went down very easily, and Dan went for Poetic License Old Tom gin which was less to my tastes but perfect for him as it had a rounded, peppery flavour from the oak casks it’s aged in. The balcony level of the auditorium was open as seating so we made our way up to have a sit while we finished our final tipples, and looked out over the bustling festival goers below (many of whom had loosened up enough for a good dance by this time).

We left with a spring in our step and a bottle of Masons Yorkshire gin (paid for in part by a voucher kindly given to us by the festival in exchange for this post), which I’m sipping on while writing this! We had a great time at the festival and didn’t even get a chance to attend one of the free masterclasses, so along with all the many gins we didn’t get around to trying I have more than enough reasons to want to return next year! The festival has many more stops all over the country in next few months and I’d thoroughly recommend going along if you’re a gin-lover – or even you’re not; there truly is something for every taste. Tickets are about £12 for admission and there are usually a few days/times to choose from, and you’re pretty much guaranteed a fun and unique night out.

I was given entry to the event gratis but all opinions are very much genuine and my own (although I did get the impression they were trying to ply me with alcohol so I’d give them a good review – it worked). And remember, enjoy your drinks safely and responsibly pals!