Scrounger, Finborough Theatre
Athena Stevens’ new play gives the audience both barrels in addition to bureaucracy and discrimination.
Author: Ed Whitfield
I'm a writer and blogger, as well as the man scowling at you as you cough, check your phone, fidget and/or whisper to your partner during a performance. We can hear you, idiots.
The Wind of Heaven, Finborough Theatre
The Wind Heaven is something of an old fashioned brain fart.
Chemistry, Finborough Theatre
Chemistry uses the wonderdurg of intimate performance to produce a great two-hander.
Death of a Salesman, Piccadilly Theatre
It’s the play you know with added, if implicit, racial commentary. Does it work? Well if you read on I’ll tell you!
Velvet, Above the Stag Theatre
Velvet invites you to take a trip down the River Weinstein with a young wannabe. No leaving the boat!
We Anchor in Hope, The Bunker
What’s lost when your local boozer becomes a block of overpriced flats? A lot, if Anna Jordan’s play is anything to go by.
The Permanent Way, The Vaults
If the devil’s in the detail, David Hare’s old polemic against Rail Privatisation is a satanic ejaculation.
What Girls Are Made Of, Soho Theatre
It’s a gig! It’s a one-woman show! It’s the past repackaged as theatre! It’s…problematic?
An Inspector Calls, Churchill Theatre
J.B. Priestley’s old standard turns up unannounced in Bromley and withstands modern scrutiny with its timeless call for a compassionate society.
