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Dead Women’s Poetry Society

Memento Non Mori

Dead Women’s Poetry Society

by Helen Bowell

National Poetry Library at the Southbank Centre until 6th November

Review by Heather Moulson

It is with some trepidation than one approaches a promised resurrection, albeit literary rather than literally. Therefore this looked like an exciting prospect, that of literary séances with forgotten deceased female poets.

Our host, Helen Bowell, an Education Co-ordinator at the Poetry Society, gave a very lively introduction to the event, and conveyed that its aim was to raise women poets from the dead, and keep their legacies alive. This project, the Dead Women’s Poetry Society, was founded in 2015 with this very aim.

Helen then read We Shall Not Escape Hell by Marina Tsvetaeva, a Russian poet who passed away in 1941. And so our frame of mind was set.

DeadPoet1AASéance number one was hosted by Ruth Sutoye, a creative producer whose work spanned across photography, poetry and film. She resurrected June Jordan (1936 – 2002), a Jamaican-American bisexual poet, essayist, teacher and activist, whose poetry was of a biographical nature, and who invited other voices. This collection included: Apologies To the Dead of People of Lebanon; then Poem About My Rights (confronting issues of patriarchy and of supremacy); and It’s Hard To Keep A Clean Shirt Clean. Ruth played us recordings of June herself reading these works, which really breathed life into the words. We caught her passion and meanings, for June’s poems were flawless. To conclude this talk, Ruth read her own work, Blood Sings, a very strong presentation, and a new respect gained for this previously forgotten writer.

DeadPoet2AAThe next speaker, Zahrah Sheikh, a British Pakistani poet from Ilford, resurrected and introduced us to Fahmida Riaz (1946 –2018), an Urdu writer, poet, human-rights activist and feminist. After a vibrant first resurrection, this section sadly dimmed. What could have been an exciting journey into Fahamida’s life, became badly read and ill-rehearsed. A pity, because this poet broke barriers and taboos, and was a formidable figure. Even when exiled to India, Fahmida was tireless and wrote very strong work, which continued to challenge convention. Poems read were: The Language of Stones, The Body Exposed , The Body Abject, Four Walls and a Black Veil , and concluded with Condolence Resolution. I came to my own conclusions that sometimes information is not enough, and justice wasn’t really done to this very brave poet.

Helen, in a closing speech, imparted the exciting information that Dead Women’s Poetry Society planned to tour England. This is very good news indeed for such an exciting project.

Do give the National Poetry Library a try at the Southbank Centre. Its catalogue of poetry is inexhaustible and it occupies a wonderful and accessible space. I certainly look forward to returning.

But now I was departing. Leaving a séance, even a literary one, is an odd sensation, and as I passed the looming edifice of the Royal Festival Hall I felt the spirit of Jordan and Riaz … were they forgotten?

Heather Moulson
November 2019

Photography by Madani Younis

The King and the Catholics

Erudite Master Storytelling

The King and the Catholics

by Lady Antonia Fraser, in conversation with Anna Sebba

Duke Street Church, Richmond Literature Festival, Duke Street, Richmond until 6th November.

Review by Eliza Hall

An evening of gentle discussion which hinged on the book The King and the Catholics was led by Anna Sebba. Lady Antonia was introduced to the 300 strong audience, via her books and the amazing reviews they have all received.


Turning to the book to be discussed, we were given a glimpse of the opening scene of violence and bloodshed and the reason Lady Antonia wrote this as she explained that that it was in fact a bloodless time of emancipation during the reign of George III. Anna had asked Lady Antonia how she started the book, was it a scene that that she imagined or a real moment in history? This led to some interesting answers about how the author gains a feeling about the time and in particular the characters involved with the Gordon riots against Catholic Relief in 1780.

When Lady Antonia was asked to explain why there was such a depth of feeling against the Catholics she took us back in history to look at the background of fear of Catholic Europe and our wars against the Spanish and French, of Guido Fawkes’ attempt to blow up parliament – with a wry interjection from Anna about our present parliamentary situation. Lady Antonia was not drawn on this, but reminded us of the plaque placed on the Monument after the great fire of London which blamed the destruction on the Catholics. Taken down by James III it is now housed in the Museum of London. An historical event, she made very clear, should not be erased from history. It is fact and stands for a particular time in our history. She went on to explain that the Pope was seen as a ‘bogey man’ as he appointed the Catholic priests who were still present in England. Catholics were still not allowed to vote, hold commissions in the armed forces, or attend university. Catholic peers were not allowed in the House of Lords even though some peers were prepared to change their religion to Protestantism in order to take their seats.

Lady Antonia explained that she grew up a Catholic, having experienced her parents’ conversion. She was eight years old when her mother converted and when she was fourteen years of age Antonia did the same, attracted to the ‘choreography’ of the services or she described it, as ‘the smells and bells’, the music and the mystery of the religion, including the mystery surrounding the nuns at her school.

After this little reminiscence, which helped explain the context of her interest in Catholicism, she was asked what was her narrative drive in her books or how does she attempt to make history accessible to the reader. Again she brought us back to the characters and how in this particular book two heroes emerge, the Duke of Wellington and Daniel O’ Connell. Digging deeper into this, Anna asked about narrative history and Lady Antonia reminded us that her characters did not see what we see in retrospect and how one cannot tell a story if you review it from the present. It is the present of the historical situation and the characters, how they behave, that make the history.

This became more evident when she made a clear distinction between writing historical fact and historical fiction, which Lady Antonia said she did not read, but acknowledged that Hilary Mantel has probably brought more history than anyone and rekindled those who might have lost their taste for the past. When questioned about the film adaptation of Marie Antoinette by Sophia Coppola, she was complementary and enjoyed the interpretation.


She touched later on some specific incidences where she was challenged by history’s outcome, wrestling with the activities and decisions that people in power make, citing George III and the Act of Union with Ireland which he refused to sign, just as George IV had the same trouble in deciding if he should swear an oath to uphold the Protestant Church, where his life style did not help his decision making.

Antonia is very aware of the present political situation with Ireland and Brexit and could see certain resonances in today’s lack of tolerance , acknowledging that Jewish emancipation came much later, we still live in an intolerant society and exclaimed that to pass judgement on another’s religious habits, rituals, life style, she said ‘is none of my business’.

Two amusing little anecdotes were prompted by questions about her liking the characters she wrote about. She still dearly likes Mary Queen of Scots, and recalled the time when her mother, also an historian, said she would be writing about her, at which Antonia exclaimed to her mother, ‘No, she’s mine !’ On a much later occasion she started a book on the battle of the Boyne but realised she disliked Edward III and had to stop, saying to her husband ‘Harold, bin the Boyne’.

What fires her to write? She loves what she does and is able to be the captain of her own destiny: ‘I never became a writer, I was born a writer’. She recalled receiving an e-mail from Elton John who told her that she was his favourite historical writer. When he asked how long would she continue writing she replied to him ‘As long as I receive praise like yours, I’ll write’.

Spending an evening with Lady Antonina was fascinating. We all learned what we already knew of her – an erudite, objective, thoroughly-researched, master storyteller of our past.

Eliza Hall
November 2019

Photography by Holly Ibbs

Things I Know To Be True

Secrets and Lies in SW15

Things I Know To Be True

by Andrew Bovell

Putney Theatre Company, at Putney Arts Theatre until 9th November

A Review by Andrew Lawston

There can be no more foreboding sight to greet a theatre audience than a set depicting a well-kept family garden. You know that you’re in for two hours of intense drama and revelations. The better-kept the garden, the more intense your evening is likely to be.

And so it is with Andrew Bovell’s Things I Know to Be True, a relatively new play (2016) which has swiftly captured the imagination of UK theatre companies, and has now been taken on by Putney Arts Theatre in their spacious auditorium. Young Rosie Price has her heart broken on her gap year, and returns to the family home for solace, only to find a family on the verge of tearing themselves apart.


“This garden was the world” as various characters tell us throughout the play, and appropriately we never really leave it. Tom Sainsbury’s simple set comprises a single flowerbed filled with roses that bloom and wilt throughout the play according to the changing seasons, with a garden shed off to one side, and projected photos and video clips on the backcloth. Seating lines both sides of the stage, and the cast gamely make sure they play to all sides of the auditorium throughout the evening.

ThingsTrue1Director Frances Bodiam ensures that the cast make maximum use of the spacious playing area, and more. Characters frequently enter through the aisles, and from the back of the theatre, so the audience is never quite sure where the next revelation will come from. Frances also made the very sensible choice of asking her cast to perform in their own voices, rather than attempting Australian accents. As the programme notes, Hallett Cove is broadly similar to any suburb throughout the Western world. So while the setting remains Australian, with references to dollars, Sydney and Brisbane, the play’s themes are revealed to be truly universal.

ThingsTrue4After a tableau of a phone ringing at 3am, the phone call every parent dreads, Rosie opens the show with an upbeat performance by Natasha Henson, who talks about her gap year, and Berlin, in lively conversation with the audience as she roams the aisles and the full space of the stage. It’s a shame that, as her extended monologue draws to a close and she makes her way back to Hallett Cove in Adelaide, we never really get to see much of Rosie again as a character; she becomes the figure in front of whom much of the rest of the play unfolds.

As Rosie arrives back home, the family cluster around and there is a joyful reunion, though already tinged with ill-tempered sniping. Penny Weatherall’s powerful and dominant performance as Fran quickly establishes that the family is something of a matriarchy, while Aidan Kershaw gives a performance that is often wonderfully understated as Bob, the quietly proud retired working man who has long tired of his gardening.

As the other siblings come and go, we see the play’s funniest moments, well-observed exchanges about traffic, laundry, and the father being unable to operate the coffee machine, that will be familiar to many families. There’s an enjoyable pace, and the cast are in complete control of the material, as lines are swapped with huge energy, but crisply and with confidence. But there’s an edge to many of these interactions, when eldest daughter Pip (Emily Prince, in a tight and controlled performance that always seems to be on the point of cracking to reveal her character’s deep inner pain) becomes strangely upset at the discovery that brother Ben (Theo Leonard in a brilliantly manic turn, bounding around the stage with barely repressed nervous energy) still brings his washing home. And when Bradley White’s enigmatic Mark refuses to answer questions about his recent relationship break-up.


With his untucked shirt and slightly aloof attitude, Mark seems distinct from the rest of the family, even as the rest of its members begin to fragment and grow further apart as the play progresses. When the reasons for this detachment become clear later, he and his two parents enjoy a powerful scene filled with resentment, love, and quiet desperation. “Stop swearing!” bawls Bob at one point, unable to articulate his actual feelings, and resorting to his parental role to try and regain his footing in the conversation.

With a play that is so new, and so popular, it doesn’t feel appropriate to talk in detail about the plot, beyond mentioning that although there are frequent clues towards the problems and preoccupations of most of the characters, this is no soap opera, and their true secrets generally surprised the audience by being just out of kilter with our expectations.

The play is also a visual delight, both with the inventive images and clips projected by Tom Sainsbury, and with Carrie Cable’s costumes, which seem perfect for each character, from the manic Tom’s slim-fitting suit, to Bob’s dishevelled gardening clothes, Rosie’s floaty outfits, and Fran’s simple but elegant green dress, which somehow manages to perfectly mirror her nurse’s uniform with a brooch pinned in the place of her watch.

The masterstroke of Things I Know to Be True is that despite the many revelations and divisions between family members, the audience are never in any doubt that the characters all love each other deeply. This is a bold and assured new production of a play whose popularity is growing at an impressive rate.

Andrew Lawston
November 2019

Photography by Steve Lippitt.

Sex Cells

Coitus Interruptus

Sex Cells

by Anna Longaretti

OHADS at The Coward Studio, Hampton Hill Playhouse until 9th November

Review by Eleanor Marsh

Anna Longaretti made her playwriting debut with Sex Cells in 2012. In a previous life Longaretti’s world was TV and the influence of that medium is prevalent throughout the play, which is a series of short vignettes delivered on a single set. The play could easily be an episode from a sitcom.

Set in the call centre of a sex aids business, (sex sells : a nice play on words for a play that speaks a lot about IVF – sex cells) the play is a gentle comedy with some real laugh out loud moments. It explores the hidden depths of emotion of its five characters; four women with very different issues and views and their hapless boss.

The performances are uniformly excellent. Sally Halsey’s matter of fact delivery and excellent comic timing belie the poignancy of her storyline. Her depiction of Lily, top sales person and star baker is pitch perfect. Darren McIlroy is superb as the sadly comedic Mr Causeway. It would be easy for this character to appear as a caricature, but McIlroy’s performance and debut director Joolz Connery’s sensitive direction give him real depth of character.

The remaining three characters are equally well-portrayed. And it is through these women that the complex relationships that women the world over have with sex, relationships and babies are channelled. Tiffany, played by Julie Davis is footloose and fancy free, enjoying her freedom and with no desire to “settle down”. Charlotte Pilbeam’s Sylvie is desperate to have a child, and Dionne King’s Janice is desperate to have some freedom from her large family of under 10’s. All perspectives are here in this one small office.

The play’s set is suitably minimal and functional. It could be any office anywhere, where the main subject of conversation in any given day is the quality of the office coffee. What makes the environment different is the merchandise that is dotted around the stage. The constant reminder of the fact that “sex” is linked to “fun” when juxtaposed with the definitely unfunny subjects of IVF, death and a complex mother-son relationship give the play a layer of depth that is surprising and effective.

But fun this play undoubtedly is. All the best tragedies have comedy running through them and we are treated here to some excellent one liners and visual gags with the props on loan from Ann Summers. It is a shame that it comes to a rather abrupt ending, but it is always a good thing to leave an audience wanting more. I’d urge anyone in need of a good laugh this week to go to Hampton Hill Theatre. You’ll not be disappointed.

Eleanor Marsh
November 2019

Photography by Jen Laney

The Night Watch

Our friends in the Blitz

The Night Watch

adapted by Hattie Naylor from the book by Sarah Waters

The Original Theatre Company and York Theatre Royal, Richmond Theatre until 9 November

Review by Matthew Grierson

If we are to believe the wartime propaganda, carrots can help us see in the dark. Although there are no carrots in The Night Watch, darkness both literal and figurative sheds light on the small group of characters thrown together by love and other circumstances.

Alastair Whatley’s direction is an effective combination of atmosphere and detail. So well realised by designer Max Pappenheim is the terraced property that dominates the stage that it was not until the lighting changed that I realised it was transparent, serving first as its own interior and later as the bombed-out shell of itself. It is enough that we believe the house is there on the stage in front of us; or that the desk of the dating agency run by Viv and Helen becomes the roof of their building; or that a square of light is the cell in Wormwood Scrubs shared by Duncan and Robert.

Lewis Mackinnon in The Night Watch by The Original Theatre Company and York Theatre Royal

Belief is not important only to us as the audience but is a central theme from the point Mr Mundy visits Christian Scientist Mrs Leonard for spiritual healing. Her insistence that the pain of his arthritis is imagined is well played by Izabella Urbanowicz, as is the willingness of the ironically named Mundy (Malcolm James) to believe in the otherwordly – and the clear distress of his companion Duncan (Lewis Mackinnon) to see him being exploited. But so much is sustained by belief in a time when one cannot depend on reality.

Even time is out of joint in The Night Watch: earlier I said ‘later’, but also meant ‘earlier’, for the conceit Hattie Naylor’s adaptation borrows from Sarah Waters’ wonderful novel is that its three acts progress backwards, from the London of 1947 to 1944 and then to 1941. This means we come weighted with the significance of details – the ring Kay gives to Viv, or the black market pink pyjamas she acquires for Helen – and only later become aware of how they have acquired that significance.

There is a deliberately, and effectively, mannered quality to the first act, portraying the way the characters are struggling to resume the straitened lives they imagine the war has merely interrupted. This is seen in the drawn fragility of Kay (Phoebe Pryce) as she sustains a haunted version of the masculine independence she enjoyed during the war. Similarly, when Robert (Sam Jenkins-Shaw) unexpectedly comes across Duncan working in a factory, their strained exchange speaks volumes about the awkward circumstances of their original encounter in prison earlier/later.

The Night Watch by The Original Theatre Company and York Theatre Royal

As the first act ends, it sets us up thematically if not causally for the second when it makes Viv (Louise Coulthard) the unexpected agent of happiness for both Robert and Kay, setting them on a hesitant but hopeful path into the future. With the beginning of the second, we are back in 1944 with feelings running stronger and clearer: Robert is fantasising about his perfect woman, and Kay is in love with hers but soon to suffer the double devastation of thinking Helen (Florence Roberts) dead in an air-raid before finding her safe in the arms of Julia (also Urbanowicz).

The further back we go into this war the more we realise the extent it has exploded supposed convention, like the piles of debris that frame the forestage. Helen and Julia relish the freedom they have to flirt in the dangerous streets of the Blitz, while Kay wins promotion for her diligence as an ambulance driver as Mr Cole (Jenkins-Shaw again) tells her she’s more of a man than many of her colleagues will ever be.

Izabella Urbanowicz and Phoebe Pryce in The Night Watch by The Original Theatre Company and York Theatre Royal

Ironically, the moment Cole realises that Kay is gay is also the moment that Kay and Julia’s own relationship starts to collapse. This means the three years in which The Night Watch’s bombshells land are the angles of the love triangle between Julia, Kay and Helen. Roberts’ performance as Helen is especially well nuanced, delighting in her chivalrous rescue by Kay from a bombed house in 1941, while in 1944 we have already seen her accusing her girlfriend of wanting to save everyone. This is again a different Helen to the woman who in 1947 shares a guarded chumminess with colleague Viv, or, anguished, suspects Julia of having an affair.

Similarly forceful to these lovers’ confrontations are the scenes in which Viv’s abortion and Duncan’s suicide attempt are discovered, with Coulthard and Mackinnon respectively evincing the distress into which their mistaken beliefs have carried them. Again, this intensity of emotion is all the more effective for being in tension with our experience of the characters so far.

The skilful depiction of the main characters’ facets is complemented by the play’s discreet use of doubling in the supporting actors, proving that this is a cast adept in versatility. As fussy, blustering dating agency client Mr Wilson Malcolm James is unrecognisably the peculiar prison warden Mr Mundy, and with his bluff, Welsh good humour, Jenkins-Shaw is believably a different man to conscientious objector Robert with his Oxbridge tones. Mara Allen is likewise excellent both as Kay’s foil, the mechanic and ambulancewoman Mickey, and she practically steals her only scene as factory manager Mrs Alexander.

In dark times it’s a dangerous proposition to take us back into the Blitz. But as the presiding spirit of Mrs Leonard tells the cinema-going Kay, we are enthralled by the lit-up fictions before us. So believe me when I write that The Night Watch is victorious.

Matthew Grierson
November 2019

Photos © Mark Douet

Rewriting the Climate

A Peek Behind the Cumulonimbus  

Rewriting the Climate

by Matthew Griffiths

Arts Richmond, Richmond Literature Festival, Hampton Hill Theatre, until 2nd November

Review by Heather Moulson

A thoughtful and sedate event presented by Matthew Griffiths and Polly Atkin with guest readers, Malisa A Elliott, Stephen Leslie and Heather Montford, this thought-provoking evening was introduced gently by Matthew who explained his angle on one of the greatest issues of our  time. Matthew explained how he was driven to produce his new collection, The New Poetics of Climate Change and elaborated on the innovative mix of modern poetry that is vital to comprehend such a complex subject.


In the first half, a scale of eclectic poems were read, with nicely paced explanations in between, and alternated by Matthew and Polly. The first being The Greenhouse Effect by Fleur Adcock, read by Malisa A Elliot. Malisa’s strong delivery drove home, and the lyrical works of Adcock’s poems focused on, simple things such as looking out to sea. Matthew talked about the very common term, The Greenhouse Effect and the many layers of its meaning. Stephen Leslie gave a strong reading of an excerpt from the immortal Wasteland by T S Eliot – The Burial of the Dead. Matthew chose this because of the clamouring of voices, and several landscapes, and felt it should be discussed about the way we see nature.

We welcomed back Malisa as she read My Heart Soars by Chief Dan George, from a collection of Canadian nature poems. Poetry Performance favourite, Heather Montford read The Poems of our Climate by Wallace Stevens. Heather’s gentleness and tone made these vital words from Stevens ring clear. The Leaves of a Dream and the Leaves of an Onion by Arthur Sze, an amazing Chinese American poet, was read by the talented Malisa. This was the most significant message, as Matthew elaborated how this poem provoked such multiple images, for instance the concept of separating things. Stephen breathed life into the words of Windscale by Norman Nicholson. Then the three effective poets were reunited to read the extraordinarily hard hitting The Imaginary Iceberg by Elizabeth Bishop. Heather then read Ordinary Details by Jane Cooper, which was anything but. The trio reformed for the final poem, Positive Feedback Loop by Jorie Graham.

Matthew’s summary of this array of poems was articulate and full of insight, genuinely making us re-think our concepts of Climate Change. Matthew’s choice became clear, full of illustration and strong images and provoking a response in all senses, and making us realise that these were carefully researched and well-chosen poems.

The second half brought a discussion between Polly and Matthew. They talked about motives for their work and theories, and the beginnings of their interests in Climate Change. This was followed by questions from the audience, for example – Who were the new eco-poets? Many names came up, including Frances Presley, an important and significant British poet, whose writing is very relevant to our issues. Another point came up about schools and young people, and Polly explained that she runs workshops with schools and community groups. Children are very concerned about climate change.

To conclude the evening, Polly read her own poems including the thought provoking, Bluebell Season and Hunting the Stag. The climax of the evening was Matthew reading his work consisting of the haunting Bearing Myself, Cod Philosophy and Metaphor, the latter from his pamphlet How to Be Late. I would sincerely recommend Matthew’s current collection about these issues and we thank him for such an insightful and innovative evening.

Heather Moulson
November 2019

Photography by BA Tipping

The Mikado

Fabulous Witty Art Deco Escapism

The Mikado

by W.S Gilbert and Sir Arthur Sullivan

English National Opera, London Coliseum until 30th November

Review by Eleanor Lewis

Any Gilbert and Sullivan fans sensitive to snobbery must have a tough time, as it’s fair to say that for some Gilbert and Sullivan falls into that small space between ‘too highbrow for musical theatre fans’ and ‘far too popular for opera fans’. Most G & S fans I’ve come across though don’t waste their time fretting about snobbery, preferring to spend it enjoying the fabulous, witty entertainment provided by this enduring canon of work.

There is an argument for updating the Savoy operas though. Another production of HMS Pinafore appropriately costumed and set is well and good but it will attract the “dated” label. On the other hand, directors such as Sasha Regan with her all male Pirates of Penzance, reinvigorate the work and give it a whole new lease of life, and a production of The Mikado created by Jonathan Miller in 1986 and revived by Elaine Tyler-Hall and team, with the ENO orchestra and chorus is really only going to work spectacularly.


ENO’s Mikado is a beautiful production that provides two(ish) hours of total escapism to a lovely Art Deco land full of carefully crafted silliness. Stefanos Lazaridis’ cream and white grand hotel set, and Sue Blane’s monochrome costumes are visually stunning. Chris Hopkins’ conducting keeps the pace sufficiently brisk, doing full justice to Sir Arthur Sullivan’s music, but steady enough for all of W S Gilbert’s lyrics to be heard.


Characters in this happy land are carefree and eccentric. Richard Suart’s Ko-Ko minced about the stage happily living in the moment. Unsurprisingly our current Prime Minister (at time of writing) is on his Little List, as are the Sussexes, vegans, and the overly politically correct.


Elgan Llyr Thomas was a very sweet Nanki Poo paired perfectly with Soraya Mafi as Yum Yum. Soraya Mafi having achieved a perfect combination of teenage ego, an instinct for self-preservation and childlike insouciance in equal measure.


Andrew Shore’s Pooh-Bah was another comic creation, attempting to accommodate other characters whilst politely remonstrating with Chris Hopkins about the volume of the drums. Yvonne Howard’s Katisha was both intimidating and poignant with her gently drooping, single feather headdress and her crystal clear mezzo-soprano voice. John Tomlinson, navigating the stage in his huge costume like a small galleon on the seas, gave a rather arch element to the Mikado himself.


The details perfect the picture. Dancing maids and camp bellboys appear at appropriate moments, grinning winningly and dancing at a speed that brings to mind the first black and white films. When Yum Yum, Pitti-Sing and Peep-Bo sing together, but are static at one side of the stage, a maid struggles to carry laundry across the background and shortly afterwards another, drinking from a bottle staggers across too. In a random, (and possibly niche) way I was reminded of Bill Forsyth’s 1981 film Gregory’s Girl  and the penguin in the background at various points in that film.


It’s probably stating the blindingly obvious to say that Jonathan Miller fully understands what Gilbert and Sullivan were about. They were indeed pointing out the flaws of The Victorian society in which they lived but doing it by creating a satire set in the faraway country of Japan where flirtation is punishable by death and a lot of very attractive characters can play out an entertaining storyline and everyone enjoys themselves. This, after all, is what theatre is about.

Eleanor Lewis
November 2019

Photography by Geneviève Girling