Review: Meat at Theatre503

A finalist in Theatre503’s International Playwriting Award in 2018, Gillian Greer’s Meat is just as topical, and troubling, two years later. The play follows exes Max (India Mullen) and Ronan (Sean Fox) through one messy, bruising evening at his fancy Dublin restaurant. Successful blogger Max has come to let Ronan know that in her upcoming book, she intends to reveal he once sexually assaulted her at a party. Horrified, he protests his innocence, claiming to have no memory or knowledge of the night in question – while his loyal restaurant manager Jo (Elinor Lawless) wonders why Max has waited until now to talk about such a traumatic event in her life.

Photo credit: Alex Brenner

These are complex issues, and the play explores that complexity in an open, thought-provoking manner, ending both literally and figuratively on an unanswered question. Most importantly, though we never doubt Max’s account, Greer avoids painting a picture of villain and victim; it’s far more nuanced than that. Ronan did “a shit thing”, but that doesn’t automatically make him a monster; Max may well benefit financially from putting the incident in her book, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, or that it didn’t have an effect on her. It’s particularly interesting to note that all three characters begin the evening with a fixed definition of what rape means, and to watch as those clear-cut lines begin to blur and shift.

Though all the action takes place over one evening, the timeline of those few hours is non-linear. This allows us to observe certain events, and in particular Ronan’s behaviour towards both women, in the light of later revelations – though it does also present something of a logistical challenge, given that each scene concludes with a bit more food or drink symbolically smeared across Ronan’s previously pristine walls and floor. It’s testament to the clarity of both Greer’s writing and Lucy Jane Atkinson’s direction that we never find ourselves lost or confused as to where in the story a scene is located.

The building tension within and between the two principal characters is played very convincingly by India Mullen and Sean Fox. As Max, Mullen visibly unravels as the wine flows and Ronan continues to resist giving her the answers she wants, while Fox’s performance swiftly makes it clear that beneath his amiable exterior Ronan was – and perhaps still is – more than capable of doing what Max claims. Meanwhile Elinor Lawless provides some much needed comic relief as the ever watchful Jo, but she also has a much more pivotal role: that of the outside observer, the one who listens to both sides and voices the opinions that always accompany an accusation of sexual violence.

Photo credit: Alex Brenner

The choice of setting is deliberately uncomfortable, setting the balance of power in Ronan’s favour – in more ways than one, as it turns out – from the off. Rachel Stone’s set is visually striking, and in line with the restaurant’s policy (“Vegetarian? Fuck off. Vegan? Fuck off.”) it’s in your face, makes no apology, and should probably come with some kind of trigger warning. Pig carcasses adorn the walls along with artistic renderings of raw meat, while in front of them Ronan cheerfully explains how foie gras is made to a less than enthusiastic Max. In the background, Annie May Fletcher’s sound design maintains a hum of background conversation, reminding us the pair are not alone, but acknowledges the intimacy between them at key moments by drowning out the crowd with the sound of a heartbeat.

It’s taken two years for Greer’s play to make it to the stage, but it’s been more than worth the wait. Meat is an intense and thoughtful play, which doesn’t spoon feed answers to its audience but instead poses a set of questions and leaves us to process them in our own way and within the frame of our own experiences. It may not be a comfortable watch for everyone, but it is a vitally important one.

Meat is at Theatre503 until 14th March.

Quick Q&A: How To Save a Life

Where and when: Theatre503, 11th-15th February

What it’s all about… Melissa loves cake, glitter, and she’s got cervical cancer. Join us in the lead up to her party – her cancer party. Supporting Jo’s Cervical Cancer Trust.

You’ll like it if… you like dark comedy and 90s tunes.

You should see it because… it’s life affirming and will make you want to hug the nearest person to you.

Anything else we should know…: It was nominated for Sit Up awards 2019 after a run at Underbelly 2019, and was selected and sold out at Soho Theatre as part of Soho Rising.

Where to follow:
Hashtags: #howtosavealife  #smearforsmear
Twitter: @GHalfFTheatre
Instagram: @glass_half_full_theatre

Book here:

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Review: Voices From Home at Theatre503

Since its inception in 2017, Broken Silence Theatre’s Voices From Home has been championing new writers from across the South East, and more importantly from outside the capital. Volume 3 found the event in a new home at Theatre503 and showcasing five original pieces on a variety of themes and covering a broad emotional spectrum.

Anatomy of a Victim by Rachel Tookey (Surrey) is an intriguing and slightly unsettling piece about the murder of a young woman. The play starts with an unsentimental laying out of the facts from A (Abbi Douetil) and B (Ella Dorman-Gajic), who are a bit disappointed at the clichéd nature of the young woman’s disappearance, and convinced they’ve just uncovered a huge miscarriage of justice. Which is all well and good, until we’re taken back to the beginning of the story, and meet Rebecca (Hatty Jones) – the victim – who at this point is still alive and well and full of plans for the future, as she tells her friend about a frightening encounter she’s just had with the boyfriend that A and B are so keen to exonerate. The play ends on an abrupt and ambiguous note, leaving us to make up our own minds about what really happened that night, and slightly chastened by the realisation that behind every sensational true crime documentary, there first has to be a real victim.

From the first Kent writer to be featured in Voices From Home, Mark Daniels’ My Boys is a bittersweet portrayal of a grieving family as they take their first steps towards reconciliation after a lengthy estrangement. Stacha Hicks gives a particularly powerful performance as the newly widowed but still delightfully stoical Pauline, alongside David Ellis and Steven Jeram as her sons Jamie and Lenny. Tomorrow is the funeral of their late dad Len, and as he lies in his open casket, the remaining family members finally have a chance to say all the things they couldn’t say before – but have they left it too late? Funny and sad in equal measure, this enjoyable play about family and forgiveness will make you want to call your loved ones (especially if you’ve not seen them in a while) just to say hi.

Also on the topic of grief, Like and Subscribe by Berkshire’s Rachel Causer sees another awkward reunion, this time between two former best friends. One, Polly (Alanna Flynn), has gone on to become a successful podcaster, while the other, Kas (Antonia Salib), has been struggling to come to terms with her mum’s death. With Polly portrayed as superficial and self-absorbed, we’re immediately inclined to dislike both her and her brand of forced positivity, particularly when she appears to be trying to capitalise on her friend’s grief. But things aren’t quite as simple as they seem, and behind the weird podcast voice and fixed grin, there’s more to Polly’s positivity than meets the eye. Like and Subscribe is a witty and relatable story about friendship and the lengths we’re prepared to go to convince the rest of the world we’re fine – even when we’re anything but.

In Losers by Precious Alabi (Essex), two complete strangers meet outside a club. It’s 31st October 2019, and Her (Dominique Moutia) is having a bad night when she runs into Him (Andy Sellers). He thinks she’s superficial, she thinks he’s rude – but as the minutes tick down towards Brexit, they realise that maybe they have more in common than they thought. Though it may sound like it, Losers isn’t really a political play; it’s about two human beings finding a brief connection in a world that’s not treating either of them particularly well, and the many ways in which we make assumptions about others based on first impressions. The conclusion – in which Her has a revelation about how badly she’s behaved – feels a little bit too neat and tidy, but were the piece to be expanded into something longer, there’s potential here for some really interesting character development on both sides.

Last but by no means least, My first time was in a parking lot by Phoebe Wood from Norfolk is a powerful and disturbing story of one woman’s teenage trauma and the lasting impact it’s had on her life, relationships and mental health. Though Mira (Eleanor Grace) talks about her first time with seeming nonchalance, each time she returns to the story it becomes a little clearer that there was a lot more to it than we first thought – and not in a good way. Eleanor Grace gives a brilliant solo performance as this complex character who masks her pain with humour, and while it’s difficult to watch, at the same time this is the kind of piece you want to see again because there’s so much detail in those few short minutes.

With high quality writing, direction and acting across the board, the third outing for Voices From Home was as enjoyable, varied and thought-provoking as the previous two, and as always, it’s refreshing to see talent from outside London being given a voice. Roll on the next one…

For more details about Voices From Home, visit or follow @BrokenSilenceT

Review: J’Ouvert at Theatre503

It may only just be June, but the carnival spirit is already very much alive at Theatre503. Yasmin Joseph’s debut play takes us to Notting Hill in August 2017, just in time to witness J’Ouvert – the official start of carnival, at dawn – through the eyes of three friends: Nadine (Sharla Smith), Jade (Sapphire Joy) and Nisha (Annice Boparai), each of them trying in their own way to reclaim the annual event for the community that created it. As the day passes, the three make their way through the crowds, dancing and drinking, dodging rain showers and disapproving family members – only to be faced with overpriced food, judgmental locals, and the realisation that even in the heart of the world they thought was theirs, they’re still not safe from misogyny, slut-shaming or the threat of physical and sexual violence.

J'Ouvert at Theatre503
Photo credit: Helen Murray

It’s quickly obvious this is a play that knows who it’s speaking to, and the frequent audible and unanimous responses from the majority of the audience to the characters’ experiences and observations confirm that it does so very well. As for those of us who don’t share those experiences, Joseph makes few concessions, instead challenging us to go away and make the effort to plug the gaps in our own understanding. This means the play doesn’t resonate in the same way for everyone, but it also makes perfect sense – in a play about giving Black British people back their voice, it would serve little purpose to keep interrupting the flow to make sure the minority were all keeping up.

The production, directed by Nine Night actor Rebekah Murrell, has had a bit of a bumpy road to the stage, with two cast members having to be replaced just a few days before opening night. Considering the circumstances, Sapphire Joy and Sharla Smith do an amazing job as best friends Jade and Nadine, with a very natural and believable closeness between them. Joining them is Annice Boparai as Nisha, an overenthusiastic activist of Indian descent and privileged upbringing, whose clumsy attempts to fit in with the others are often the cause of both tension and hilarity.

Sandra Falase’s flag-adorned set and sensational costumes bring the Notting Hill Carnival to vibrant life, with each of the women bringing her own interpretation to her outfit for the day. An irresistible soundtrack completes the picture, and there’s a constant sensation of movement and sound throughout, so that even in a pub theatre in Battersea you can feel the thronging crowds and lively atmosphere. The only moment where everything stops is the minute’s silence at 3pm for the victims of Grenfell Tower – a poignant moment of stillness and solidarity amidst the hubbub.

J'Ouvert at Theatre503
Photo credit: Helen Murray

Media coverage of the Notting Hill Carnival tends to focus on increased police presence and the amount of violent crimes committed during the three-day celebration. One such crime – committed by two men against the women who dared to say no – is a pivotal event in J’Ouvert. But the response to that event, and the play as a whole, demonstrate that there’s a lot more to carnival than the grim statistics that get splashed across the papers every summer. The image we’re left with is not one of violence, but of pride, friendship and resilience, and a community that’s prepared to keep fighting for as long as it takes to reclaim its voice and heritage.

Can’t see the map on iPhone? Try turning your phone to landscape and that should sort it. I don’t know why but I’m working on it… 😉

Review: Cuzco at Theatre503

Machu Picchu isn’t the only thing in ruins by the end of Cuzco, an intense two-hander about the fiery death of a relationship by Spanish playwright Víctor Sánchez Rodríguez. In an attempt to salvage their relationship, He and She have travelled to Peru – but their dream holiday quickly turns sour. As the play begins, He wants to go out with another Spanish couple they’ve befriended. She is not so keen, claiming altitude sickness and choosing to stay behind. When She does venture out of the hotel, it’s to immerse herself in the local culture (arguably a little too enthusiastically), while He is seduced by the charms of his new friends and pays little attention to his surroundings.

Photo credit: Holly Lucas

Nor does the audience get to enjoy the sights and sounds of the Inca trail, except at second hand. Far from rebuilding their relationship, the couple seem to spend most of the time apart; the play is set in a series of soulless hotel rooms – perfectly captured by Stephanie Williams’ simple set – in which they each take it in turns to describe what they’ve experienced to the other in great detail. It’s a parting of the ways in every possible sense, and although there are a few surprises in store before the end, the story ultimately plays out with crushing inevitability. Perhaps because we don’t get to see more than a snatched moment or two of the couple seeming happy together, we can never imagine any other outcome than what eventually happens.

The premise of the play is a good one, and the direction by Kate O’Connor and performances from Dilek Rose and Gareth Jones are all excellent. Where the play stumbles a little is in transmitting the intense passions between the characters to the audience. Neither He nor She is ever particularly likeable – though certainly they both have moments where we lean more to one side or the other – and there’s not enough variety in their interactions; because all they do from the very first scene is argue, it’s difficult for us to feel invested in their relationship, or to care very much when the end finally comes. In fact there are several moments where you’re left wondering why they even felt the relationship was worth coming all this way to save in the first place.

What is interesting about Cuzco, however, is that while in some respects it’s a very down-to-earth, everyday tale, at the same time the play has an increasingly otherworldly feel. Part of this lies in the story itself, which returns throughout to the fascination of both characters – She in particular – with Incan mythology and symbolism, but above all it’s in the way the play is written. William Gregory has translated Sánchez Rodríguez’s evocative language beautifully into English without losing any of its distinctive Spanish feel. And if that means sacrificing a little bit of realism – this couple argue far more eloquently than any I’ve ever met – it’s worth it for the opportunity to sit back and enjoy the poetry.

Photo credit: Holly Lucas

Despite some incredibly emotional scenes, Cuzco on the whole feels aimed more at the head than the heart, and as such it may not appeal to everyone. The play does, however, ask some interesting and at times uncomfortably probing questions about why and how people choose to travel, and the impact that experience can have on both the traveller and the cultures they set out to explore. Not the most emotionally engaging play, perhaps, but beautifully written – and it certainly leaves you with plenty to think about.