Lloyd Evans is The Spectator's sketch-writer and theatre critic
Why Am I So Single? opens with two actors on stage impersonating the play’s writers Toby Marlow and Lucy Moss. You may not recognise the names but you’ve probably heard of their smash-hit, Six, which re-imagined the tragic wives of Henry VIII as glamorous pop divas. This follow-up show is a spoof of vintage musicals
The Band Back Together is a newish play, written and directed by Barney Norris, which succeeds wildly on its own terms. It delivers a low-energy slice of feelgood nostalgia involving three musicians who reunite in their hometown of Salisbury. The action consists of talk and songs, more talk, more songs, some cider-drinking and a surprise
Shortly before noon, Sir Keir Starmer and his closest chums peeped out from behind the Speaker’s chair to see if it was safe to enter the chamber. Led by their boss, the furtive cabal of Granny-chillers sidled forward and tiptoed to their seats like naughty teenagers late for a geography class. What had they been
Power hasn’t altered Sir Keir Starmer. His frosty and unamused demeanour remains. No hint of warmth or joy has penetrated his defensive outer rind. He still looks like a mourner-for-hire at an oligarch’s funeral. Today at PMQs he was faced by a quick-witted and forceful Rishi Sunak who clearly relishes the role of battering ram.
The Real Thing at the Old Vic is a puzzling beast. And well worth seeing. Director Max Webster sets the action in a vast sitting room painted electric blue with a white sofa in the centre. A lovely use of empty space. But the preview trailer on the theatre’s website shows the actors seated in
Shifters has transferred to the West End from the Bush Theatre. It opens at a granny’s funeral attended by the grief-stricken Dre, aged 32. Dre was raised by his ‘Nana’ as he calls her – rhyming it with ‘spanner’ – and he weeps when he realises that his mother has failed to show up. A
God used to exist. He doesn’t any more, but back in the early 1970s he was a major presence in my life. The world at that time was run by President Nixon and his adviser Ted Heath, but their power was limited, and even they had to defer to God’s authority. That’s how it seemed
The Turbine Theatre is a newish venue beneath the railway arches of Grosvenor Bridge in Battersea. The comfy auditorium is furnished with 94 cinema seats and the only snag is the scent of mildew clinging to the plasterwork. Overhead, the rumbling commuter trains create the perfect soundscape for Cockfosters, a zany rom-com set on the
Dr Phil Hammond is a hilarious and wildly successful comedian whose career is built on the ruins of the NHS. His act has spawned a host of imitators on the stand up-circuit and they share Dr Phil’s confused adoration for the NHS. All of them love the idea of universal healthcare but they dislike the
Hats off to Humza Yousaf. He knows how give a straight answer. At the Edinburgh fringe, he was quizzed by Matthew Stadlen who asked if he took responsibility for the chaos that led to his resignation as Scotland’s first minister. ‘I frankly f***ed up,’ admits Yousaf. Warm applause greeted this confession, and Stadlen compared his
Being mugged changes you forever. My encounter with highwaymen occurred three decades ago in a south London street, in the early evening as I emerged from a corner-shop. I was transferring some coins from one hand to the other when four men pounced on me from behind, tipped me over and dragged me down a
Therapy seems to be the defining theme of this year’s Edinburgh festival. Many performers are saddled with personal demons or anxieties which they want to alleviate by yelling about them in front of a paying audience. Professor Tanya Byron puts it like this in the Pleasance brochure: ‘Therapy is where art and story-telling combine.’ This
Wes Streeting bounds onto the stage for a conversation with Matthew Stadlen (deputising for Iain Dale) at the Edinburgh festival. Labour’s new health secretary wears grey slacks, white trainers and an open-necked shirt. He hasn’t found time to put on a jacket or tie. ‘I came literally from the airport in my holiday get-up,’ he
Slave Play is a series of hoaxes. The producers announced that ‘Black Out’ performances would be reserved for ‘black-identifying’ playgoers but the ticketing system is colour-blind and these so-called ‘segregated’ shows were attended by audiences of all ethnicities. The PR gambit generated lots of free publicity, but these stunts don’t always translate into ticket sales.
Our subsidised theatres often import shows from the US without asking whether our theatrical tastes align with America’s. The latest arrival, The Hot Wing King, is a Pulitzer Prize-winning play about unhealthy eating. The production opens in a luxury house in Memphis, occupied, rather strangely, by four gay men who dress gracelessly in cheap, flashy
Are we going to war? The first PMQs since the election was like a military briefing between the Tory chief and the new prime minister. Rishi Sunak, now opposition leader, began with a few standard noises about Ukraine’s need for more weapons. He urged Sir Keir Starmer to ask the Germans to send ‘long-range missiles’
Visit From An Unknown Woman, adapted by Christopher Hampton from a short story by Stefan Zweig, opens like an episode of Seinfeld. A playboy writer enjoys a fling with a black-clad beauty – but when he kisses her goodbye, he can’t remember her name. It feels like a set-up for a gag, but the script
Friends in Calais invited me to their baby’s birthday party. He’s a year old. They suggested an overnight stay and I planned to reach France by about mid-afternoon and have a stroll, visit the sights, buy a bit of tat for the nipper and a litre of plonk for the proud parents. Clouds of sweet
Alma Mater is a topical melodrama set on a university campus. The new principal, Jo, (amusingly played by Justine Mitchell) is a radical feminist who recalls the bitter struggles of the 1980s when she strove to put women on an equal footing with men. Her task now is to address the college’s reputation for ‘binge-drinking,
Yosser Hughes is regarded as a national treasure. He first appeared in 1982 in Alan Bleasdale’s TV drama, Boys from the Blackstuff, which followed a crew of Liverpool workers who lay tarmac (‘black stuff’) for a living. When their contract expires the lads are left shocked and helpless even though job security is not a
