This week’s theatre includes a raucous reimagining of Shakespeare’s Tempest, a politically charged satire and, well, Cock. Check back next week for another cohort of productions.
Tempest – Pleasance Theatre ★★★☆☆
If you were to imagine a modern take on Shakespeare, it would look something like Tempest. The play, now on at Pleasance Theatre, has actors breaking the fourth wall and bursting into bombastic pop tunes; it feels like a textbook update of the Bard – until suddenly it doesn’t. Early on, you’ll learn any expectations you have will be quickly and gleefully toppled. Tempest is raucous gig theatre that abides by no rules, which makes sense given that it comes courtesy of Wildcard Theatre (the company previously behind the award-winning Electrolyte). Without a doubt, Gigi Zahir and Eleanor House turn in standout performances as the riotously funny Trinculo and Stephano. Where the play falls short, though, is in its more serious moments that feature a wizardly Prospero who’s not quite in on the joke. Tempest could do with a trim but for the most part there’s too much going on to notice a runtime that clocks in at over two hours. You could say it’s “Shakespeare like you’ve never seen it” but in the interest of skirting clichés, let’s just say that a show-stopping aerial performance is one of the less interesting things to happen in this rollicking production. Annabel Nugent
Cock – Ambassadors Theatre ★★★★☆
First staged in 2009, Cock – the play that cannot be named – has always intended to shock. In 2022, Marianne Elliot’s new production follows the same suit. John (Jonathan Bailey) is cohabiting with his boyfriend M (Taron Egerton, making his West End debut) until they split up and he falls in love with a woman, known in the script as W (Jade Anouka). Unable to choose, John continues to date them both, promising that, of course, he’s going to leave the other. “You want your boyfriend’s help with the woman you’re sleeping with?” M asks, bewildered.
Given he’s the only character with a name, it’s unsurprising to learn that Bailey’s narcissistic John is the star of the show. On stage, the Bridgerton actor is utterly captivating, pinging back one-liners and prowling on the floor like a house cat with a seductive ease. M chastises him for his tendency to wildly gesticulate, yet when indecision takes over his life he stands rigid, unable to move with tears rolling down his cheeks.
Opposite Bailey’s all-consuming star, you can feel Egerton overcompensating to keep up. During the dinner party confrontation, John shouts: “When did you become so f***ing… camp?”, accusing M of trying to intimidate W, but it’s no camper than Egerton has been all show.
The chemistry between Bailey and Anouka is far stronger. During their initially awkward meeting, they twiddle their feet in unison, John part-repulsed, part-fascinated by his mind and body’s reaction to her. Isobel Lewis
Read the full review here.
Chatham House Rules – Pleasance Theatre ★★★☆☆
Many have wished to be a fly on the wall at an MP’s party. In Chatham House Rules, we get to vividly imagine what this exclusive access would look like – and, in short, it’s chaos. Written and performed by Louis Rembges, the story is told through the eyes of a zero-hours contract agency worker, simply named “Host”. He’s hired for a variety of roles at a mysterious function attended solely by members of the 1 per cent.
The catch? The event will operate under “Chatham House Rules” – Host can talk about what he’s seen and heard after the fact, but strictly without any real names attached. Host’s determination to become social-media famous makes this law a difficult one to follow, though. Imagine how much attention he could get with just a little leak of information?
It’s a play that combines mistrust of the elite with an addiction to being “very online”: meaning, it’s very much a play for today. The back wall of the theatre is used creatively, at one point displaying an endless stream of TikTok live messages and at another, the twists of a Facebook Messenger conversation. Funny sound cues give us an explicit parody of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and even a nod to Julia Fox’s unique pronunciation of Uncut Gems.
And Rembges bursts with energy throughout, taking on an array of characters with gusto – a cloakroom interaction with an attractive co-worker codenamed “Ruin Me Please” is particularly unforgettable. Yet, in its ambition to portray so much, Chatham House Rules loses track of what it actually wants to say. By the time we reach the play’s closing monologue, it’s not clear what we’re meant to be paying attention to. A thrilling ride, sure, and its scattiness is a good reflection of how many things compete for our attention online. But on this occasion, less is more. Nicole Vassell
