Theatre review: The Boys Are Kissing

Theatre503 always feels like a trek to get to and from, so I don't often include it in my regular venues, but Zak Zarafshan's The Boys Are Kissing seemed like a fun premise, and proved a good bet - taking that premise and running with it, even before it adds a camp supernatural twist on top. We're in the territory of middle-class couples navigating parenting dilemmas they never expected to face, and trying to do the best for their kids in the face of cutthroat playground politics, but with a very 2023 look at sexuality and gender: 9-year-old Lucas and Samir were seen by their classmates kissing in the playground, leading to a bit of gossip among the kids and a whole lot more among their mums. The headteacher has suggested their parents discuss the incident, so Lucas' parents Sarah (Amy McAllister) and Matt (Philip Correia) visit Samir's mothers Chloe (Eleanor Wyld) and Amira (Seyan Sarvan.)

Theatre review: Home Chat

I'm on the record as not being as convinced of Noël Coward's enduring genius as so many people seem to be, but that doesn't mean I haven't had some decent evenings at his plays - even, as it turns out, at one so little-regarded that it hasn't been seen on a London stage since its premiere in 1927. Home Chat is a light comedy about a lucky escape with an unexpected downside, and one surprisingly sympathetic to a woman with a mind of her own (there is the usual suggestion that women need a slap now and then to keep them in line because it's still Noël Coward and he's awful that way, but at least it's not done as a gag.) Martin Parr's production opens dramatically (thanks to lighting by Christopher Nairne and sound design by Pete Malkin) with a fatal train crash in France. One sleeper carriage is particularly wrecked, so much so that the miraculous escape of two English passengers makes the papers. But as Janet Ebony (Zoë Waites) was sharing the compartment with Peter (Richard Dempsey,) her friend since childhood but definitely not her husband, tongues quickly start to wag back home.

Theatre review: Holy Warriors

Are they only partly warriors? No! They're...

Holy Warriors is the second of this year's war-themed new commissions at Shakespeare's Globe. The publicity keeps calling David Eldridge's play about the Crusades "kaleidoscopic," a term which strikes me as sounding interesting but not actually meaning anything; but having now seen it I have a bit more of an idea what it's trying to describe, and what the play's attempting to do. It's the story of the crusade of Richard the Lionheart (John Hopkins) that saw him spend most of his reign of England in the Middle East but not, crucially to this play, actually enter Jerusalem. The decision not to hangs over the story as it takes in the conflicts that continue in the area to this day, eventually fusing 12th and 21st centuries as a modern-day Richard resumes his fight against Saladin, hoping to find a way to a different outcome.

Theatre review: Antony and Cleopatra (Shakespeare's Globe)

Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety. Parklife!

Eve Best brings one of the dirtiest laughs in theatre back to Shakespeare's Globe, at a time when the place seems like a bit of a deathtrap for actors: There was an actor off when I saw Titus Andronicus, and now at Antony and Cleopatra Christopher Saul had to read in Lepidus as James Hayes is injured¹; the show's only just got its Antony back as Clive Wood had to miss most of the previews due to illness; and at today's matinee Best herself had a strapped up foot that seemed to be causing her some pain, but she gamely kept going. And just as well because although Jonathan Munby's production is probably the best I've seen yet of a Shakespeare play I've never been a fan of, Best's Cleopatra is still the highlight, utterly embodying the play's most famous quote about the mercurial queen.