Theatre review: Snowflake

Mike Bartlett's already on his second Brexit play (third, if you count Love, Love, Love as foreshadowing, which next year's revival will almost certainly feel like.) Like Albion (also returning in 2020) his latest puts the UK's breaking up into factions in microcosm, and Snowflake manages both to create a metaphor and play it literally as a widower longs to reunite with his estranged daughter at Christmas. The play's first act is a monologue until its closing moments, and Bartlett plays with the concept of the unreliable narrator: In an empty church hall on Christmas Eve, Andy (Elliot Levey) rehearses for how he wants to greet his daughter Maya (Ellen Robertson) when he sees her for the first time in three years. Their relationship went sour after her mother died suddenly, and one argument in particular saw her walk out and break off all contact. She's now back in Oxford and Andy's hired out this hall as a neutral space for them to try and restart their relationship.

Theatre review: Bull

Although London audiences were impressed by Mike Bartlett's Cock, it's taken a while for the companion piece, Bull, to make its way here (the premiere production was originally seen in Sheffield.) Both plays turn a bloody animal fight into a verbal sparring between humans that's not much less brutal; but where the first play looked at poisonous personal relationships, Bull takes us to a boardroom so cutthroat LdAlan Sugar would need a mop to clean up the blood after every firing. Thomas (Sam Troughton,) Isobel (Eleanor Matsuura) and Tony (Adam James) are a sales team in a company being downsized. One of them will be getting fired, and Carter (Neil Stuke) is on his way to make a decision. But the outcome seems inevitable long before he arrives, as Isobel and Tony have no intention of losing their jobs, and if it takes destroying Thomas completely, that's what they'll do.

Theatre review: Mint

Director Clare Lizzimore tries her hand at playwrighting (and immediately makes it into my good books by not attempting to pull double duty and direct it herself.) Instead Caroline Steinbeis directs Mint, this week's offering from the Royal Court's rep season. Mint is the name of the colour of paint in Alan's jail cell, and he chose it himself - one of the few times during his lengthy incarceration that he had any small measure of control. The exact nature of Alan's crime is revealed later on, but we know from the off that it's something pretty serious - he's behind bars for several years and he starts off in a maximum security prison, although good behaviour sees him moved elsewhere down the line. Sam Troughton may never have been more intense than as the man whose supposed rehabilitation we follow from the end of the last millennium into the start of this one.

Theatre review: One Day When We Were Young

Touring company Paines Plough bring a series of new plays to London in the Roundabout Auditorium, a small wooden pop-up theatre that's reminiscent of the one Mike Bartlett displayed his Cock on. Set up in Shoreditch Town Hall, it's an intimate in-the-round space with three banks of seating with different-coloured cushions on them: At the box office there's jars with pink, blue and yellow buttons in them, and the colour you choose tells you which part of the auditorium to sit in - although, being small and in-the-round, it probably doesn't matter much where you end up. Judging by the spread of audience members, given that choice of colours, most people will go for blue, and pink is very unpopular. Andy and I sat in the yellow area for the first of the three plays, Nick Payne's One Day When We Were Young, directed by Clare Lizzimore.

Theatre review: Lay Down Your Cross

After the high-concept, high pace of his recent hit Constellations, another change of pace from playwright Nick Payne to something a lot more measured and naturalistic. In Lay Down Your Cross, Will Fricker's set takes us to the small flat where Tony (Andy de la Tour) lives on his own following his divorce - Emma Laxton's detailed sound design helps create a very realistic, lived-in environment. It's the night before his son Adam's funeral and Tony is waiting for daughter Dawn (Lucy Phelps) to arrive from Australia, where she's been living for the last couple of years. The play takes place over a little over 24 hours during which we also meet Tony's drunken ex-wife Grace (Susan Wooldridge) and Adam's girlfriend Raph (Angela Terence.) As the play goes on, Dawn discovers that her soldier brother didn't die in action like she originally thought.

Payne's examination of guilt, grief and attempts to apportion blame is sensitively and believably written and holds the attention without outstaying its welcome. Clare Lizzimore's production is suitably understated with four strong performances - Terence has a relatively small role but is hugely moving as she reads a note Adam left her and realises she's not to blame for his death. Lay Down Your Cross does what it sets out to do but after a while I couldn't help feeling it wasn't covering any new ground. The most interesting direction it takes is in looking at Tony's impossible choices with regards to his children's decisions - wanting to be supportive but not necessarily agreeing with what they do - and I wished we'd had more of this than simply the subjects of grief and the less "heroic" side of the military, which are the main themes. I think this struck me especially as the Hampstead Downstairs season is always promoted as a safe place for creatives to experiment. Lay Down Your Cross is quietly moving, well-written and performed, but experimental, original or daring it is not.

Lay Down Your Cross by Nick Payne is booking until the 24th of March at Hampstead Theatre's Michael Frayn Space.

Running time: 1 hour 20 minutes straight through.