London theatre reviews

This latest entry in London’s unending stream of Midsummer Night’s Dreams has plenty of ideas. But does Atri Banerjee’s production have a single coherent central idea? If it does, I couldn’t see it.

When Richard Nelson's Springwood was announced last year, it arrived with an impressive pedigree: it was set to mark Stanley Tucci's directorial debut. Since then, Tucci has dropped out (starry scheduling conflicts!), with US playwright Nelson stepping into the director’s chair himself. It's hard not to wonder whether Tucci might have coaxed something more dynamic from the material. 

There is evidence to suggest that giving the hero of Edmond Rostan’s French classic a big prosthetic nose is increasingly considered passé…

Writer Stephen Beresford’s musical adaptation of his own 2014 film is a triumph. Under the assured direction of Matthew Warchus – who directed the film – with a by-turns playful and powerful score by Christopher Nightingale, Josh Cohen and DJ Walde, Pride succeeds in packing a wallop of an emotional punch while never neglecting to find the very human humour in even its most sombre moments…

A Frank Sinatra musical is a great opportunity: a titan of the 20th century, he was a complex figure who was both emblematic of America and in many ways an outsider to it. He also had a pretty stonking songbook. But this sauceless bio-musical manages to do the impressive job of acknowledging Sinatra’s many, uh, foibles while making him seem incredibly bland as a human being…

The Truth opens with a classic farce set-up: a rumpled bed from which the rumpled head of Stephen Mangan's Michel emerges, looking roguishly pleased with itself, next to the equally rumpled but less satisfied head of Alice (Sarah Hadland) who is, we soon discover, Michel's best friend's wife. Over the course of 90 tightly-plotted minutes, it becomes enjoyably clear that neither Michel, Alice nor their cuckolded spouses Paul and Laurence, would know what the truth was if it came and bit them on the bottom…

At first glance, Ben Ockrent’s family drama Relics has it all. There’s the starry cast (Sally Phillips! Charly Clive!), and big name director Michael Longhurst. Even Joanna Scotcher’s richly layered set, slowly revealed as a screen lifts to show off the deep wood panels and sentimental knick knacks of a beloved home where secrets lie, offers a sense of intricately selected prestige…

Sandra Oh makes a very decent UK stage debut as Alice, the misanthrope in question in Martin Crimp’s new adaptation of the classic Molière comedy…

A drawback to our national addiction to Shakespeare is that occasionally a production comes along that’s so good it sort of queers the pitch for a while. I’m not saying Jamie Lloyd’s superlative 2025 Much Ado About Nothing was the last word on the play, or that Chelsea Walker’s new Globe production is intentionally derivative of it. Nonetheless, as a largely upbeat, good vibes, modern dress production in which the cast cavort around in amusing animal masks, it does kind of invite comparisons.

Sophie Swithinbank creates a masterful, destabilising examination of domestic abuse that plays out like if A24 got their hands on an episode of Line of Duty…