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London's off-West End theatre scene is a bustling, vibrant hub of new shows and revivals all performed at subsidised theatres. Here’s Time Out’s guide, including reviews, tickets and theatre information for the off-West End shows that even the most traditional theatre-goer would be sorry to miss.
Been there, done that? Think again, my friend.
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This review is from 2023.
SplitLip’s delightful spoof WW2 musical has been heading inexorably for the West End for something like five years now. It’s a fringe theatre comet that’s gathered mass and momentum via seasons at the New Diorama, Southwark Playhouse and Riverside Studios, and has now made impact in Theatreland – wiping out a West End dinosaur to boot, as it displaces ‘The Woman in Black’ after over 30 years at the Fortune Theatre.
And it’s really hard to be anything but delighted for the company, which consists of David Cumming, Felix Hagan, Natasha Hodgson and Zoë Robert. All bar Hagan perform in the show, with Claire Marie Hall and Jak Malone rounding out the cast. This is very much their triumph.
And though it’s been redirected for the West End by Robert Hastie, ‘Operation Mincemeat’ is at heart the same show it always was. There are no added backing dancers or bombastic reorchestrations. It’s slicker and bigger in its way, but still feels endearingly shambolic where it counts. It’s a very larky account of the World War 2 Operation Mincemeat, a ploy from British intelligence to feed the German army disinformation via a briefcase of false war plans strapped to a corpse that they hoped to pass off as a downed British pilot (yes, there was a recent film with exactly the same name, about exactly the same thing, and yes they do make a joke about this).
The story centres on Charles Cholmondeley (Cumming), the socially inept MI5 operative who dreams up the plan, and...
A labour of love that has worked its way slowly to the West End over the five years since it debuted at Southwark Playhouse, at its best Jethro Compton’s The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is an extraordinary thing, a soaring folk opera that overwhelms you with a cascade of song and feeling.
It is based on F Scott Fitzgerald’s 1922 short story, and shares a premise: Benjamin Button (John Dagliesh) is a man inexplicably born at the age of 70, who then begins to age backwards, leading to a strange, exhilarating, sometimes extremely sad sort of life.
Writer/director/designer Compton’s interpretation is very different to both Fitzgerald’s and the 2008 David Fincher film starring Brad Pitt. For starters it’s not set in nineteenth century America, but is virtually a love letter to Compton’s native Cornwall, its story spanning much of the twentieth century.
Fitzgerald’s plot is loosely followed, but heavily tinkered with – one of the more significant changes is having Dagliesh’s Benjamin born with a full adult’s mind and vocabulary rather than beginning life as a baby in an old man’s body.
More to the point, it has a joy, romance and big-hearted elan that stands in stark contrast to Fitzgerald’s cynicism and the dolefulness of Fincher’s sloggy film. Indeed, despite tragic notes from the off – Benjamin’s mum takes her own life early on – the tone is largely whimsical and upbeat, focussing on the eccentric minutiae of Cornish village life, from oddball shopkeepers to dozy sheep....
This review is from 2019. Anansi the Spider returns in 2025.
Anansi the trickster spider went global a long time ago. But Justin Audibert’s inaugural production in charge of the Unicorn takes folklore’s most famous arachnid right back to his roots.
Under Sadeysa Greenaway-Bailey’s sprawling tree set, performers Afia Abusham, Sapphire Joy and Juliet Okotie file on clutching djembe drums, wearing West African clothes and accents as they launch into a funny, energetic trio of tales.
In the first act, Anansi steals the world’s wisdom, only to reflect that this might have been a rather unwise decision; in the second he blags some vegetables from a green, er, fingered snake and cons a series of unfortunate other animals into paying the steep price demanded for the veg; the third hops to modern London – this time Anansi is a chancer who concocts an elaborate scheme to bag himself two dinners and ends up falling flat on his face.
The three women divvy up three Anansi roles for a funny and lively show for ages three to seven that’s essentially old-fashioned storytelling, done with pace and care. There are no splashy spider costumes, but they’re not necessary – the young audience get that each woman is a different facet of Anansi.
And if it’s mostly about the power of their words, then engaging music and lighting switches up the mood when small attention spans threaten to wander. There’s also some sublime physicality, be that Anansi teetering precariously up the enormous tree...
After being at the Leicester Square Theatre since what feels like the dawn of time, Freckle Productions’s moves to a new venue as it returns with its splendid puppet-driven family adaptation of Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler's popular book. The hapless Stick Man's domestic idyll – living up a tree with his Stick Lady Love and their trio of stick sprogs – is shattered when an enterprising dog mistakes him for a common or garden piece of wood. Ages three-plus.
Me... is back at Little Angel Theatre for Christmas 2025. This review is from its 2016 premiere.
Islington puppet theatre the Little Angel is nothing less than an icon of north London childhood. Tucked away down a picturesque little alley where everything seems magically smaller than life, this place has been beguiling children with crowd-pleasing yet surprisingly avant-garde puppet shows since 1961. Its craft is precise, its tone is well-judged, and its shows are reliably charming, especially at Christmas.
This year’s show for two-to-six-year olds, ‘Me…’, is a charmfest that’s unlikely to upset even the most lily-livered pre-schooler. Featuring a cute bundle of day-old penguin fluff and an icy antarctic environment shaped like a half pipe, it is simple, short and sweet. In a series of gymnastic scenes, baby penguin discovers that the sea is deep, the world is large, and she is small. And that’s about the size of it. A bunch of bloodthirsty six-year-olds complained about the lack of a baddie killer whale to amp up the drama. And they had a point: there’s not a lot of dramatic tension or much of a storyline. But it’s a lovely safe, empathetic first show for a little one. And the world that’s created by simple tactile scenery and deft puppetry is, as usual, beautifully crafted. The Little Angel is small, but its impact is big.
This review is from 2021. A Christmas Carol: A Ghost Story returns in 2025 with a new cast TBA.
There are currently (at least) four stage versions of Dickens’s ‘A Christmas Carol’ being performed in London (not including screenings of the superlative Muppet one). The two biggest are the now-landmark production at the Old Vic, this year featuring Stephen Mangan. And then there’s this adaptation by Mark Gatiss (you know, ‘Sherlock’ etc), which premiered at Nottingham Playhouse, before heading south. And it’s good. Alexandra Palace’s ruin-lust theatre is the perfect raddled backdrop – its faded Victorian glories and pockmarked plaster chime atmospherically with the set of perilously towering wooden filing cabinets, a kind of Monument Valley to Ebenezer Scrooge’s dry record-keeping.
Paraphrasing the book’s original name (‘A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas’), Gatiss sets out his stall explicitly: this is a production that harps on the ghostly nature of the story as much as the ‘God bless us, every one’ crimbo cheer. There are genuine chills as Marley’s ghost (Gatiss himself) materialises in the corner of Scrooge’s bedchamber, before the Spirits of Christmas Past, Present and Yet to Come do their thang. ‘His Dark Materials’-style ghouls flit among the audience, and the Spirit of CYTC is a really horrifying shrouded figure, grimly pointing Scrooge to his own corpse, burial and gravestone.
Nicholas Farrell is a robustly believable Scrooge. He’s...
They’ve given us ‘Potted Potter’ and ‘Potted Pirates’; now Daniel Clarkson, Jefferson Turner and their director and co-writer Richard Hurst are back, with a madcap dash through all the big panto favourites. Role-swapping, silly costumes and cut-price props underpin their knockabout two-man storytelling, and they have the direct appeal of a couple of overgrown kids engaged in a game whose rules they make up as they go along.
Jeff, shorter, more serious, is the theatrical glue; lanky Dan is the prankster, ever ready with a daft quip, a slapstick stunt and occasionally a naughty innuendo. The cleverly judged balance of childish simplicity and adult sauce means the show engages parents as well as their offspring. There’s even a dash of satire: in ‘Dick Whittington’ a Boris Johnson wig turns the hero into a modern-day Lord Mayor of London.
Occasionally you suspect that they might be having more fun up on stage than we are watching them. But it’s jovially done; and if it’s a simple offering, there’s a lot to like about a Christmas show that relies on wit rather than glitz.
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Been there, done that? Think again, my friend.
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