★★★

“struggles to know itself: its heavy in content, but its comedy is competitive, rather than complementary”

‘(This is not a) Happy Room’ is rammed with content, much of which is very funny. For all that content, though, it lacks substance.

Let us start with the good. Written by Rosie Day, and directed by Hannah Price, the concept for the piece is promising: a wedding which quickly devolves into a funeral. It’s an intriguing set up, allowing for some Aristotelian compliance: all the action takes place in the wedding-cum-funeral venue, and all in the space of about 24 hours. Yet, the tragicomic offerings of this narrative are misused, and it struggled to emotionally engage.

Much of the dialogue does amuse, especially in conjunction with Jonny Weldon’s physical eccentricities and excellent timing as attention-starved hypochondriac Simon. Amanda Abbington, too, is classy and cutting as matriarch Esther, expertly combatting her adult-children’s whines and self-indulgent pathologies (though I’m not sure she was meant to be the most sympathetic figure – more on this later). Alison Liney as dementia-ridden Great Aunt Agatha and Tom Kanji as Laura’s (Andrea Valls) husband Charles, also regale with some excellent comedy moments.

A pressing concern with this play, however, is in its characters: ‘(This is not a) Happy Room’ is an unrelenting piece of naturalistic theatre, which becomes rather monotonous in this pursuit. Without an interlude to chop up this type of drama – please, dear god, bring back the Interval – this style of dialogue loses pace and organisation. What’s more, naturalistic dialogue of this ilk screams out for nuance in its characters. To sustain itself, naturalism must present fascinating, idiosyncratic and nuanced people at its centre. Most of the characters in this piece veered in and out of cliche. This was particularly apparent in the women, especially the daughters, Laura and Elle. They typified the trend that is becoming alarmingly common: a kind of fetishised narcissist. Both women were vapid and nasty, with Elle parading ignorance and idiocy with proud ostentation. It’s not cute, and I fear does little for feminism.

The figure of real sympathy is Abbington’s Esther, beleaguered and criticised incessantly by her children, she’s painted as the therapy-denying, stern British mother, who believes most mental illness is just a natural response to the drudgeries of life. But as a mother and maternal figure, she is seemingly vilified. Indeed, some compelling questions are raised regarding motherhood and the ‘selflessness’ narrative of motherhood, but the ways in which these were navigated felt incomplete.

As the play develops, it gets littered with traumas, few of which are divulged in a way which forwards the conversation. Without more specific family detail, it’s hard not to see the Hendersons as symptomatic of many a repressed British household, rather than one of spectacular dysfunction. This show struggles to know itself: its heavy in content, but its comedy is competitive, rather than complementary. ‘(This is not a) Happy Room’ is certainly very watchable, and it will make you laugh, but as a drama, it flounders somewhat.

SABRAGE

Lafayette

★★★★

“a stream of virtuosity, acrobatics, dancing, singing, burlesque, gravity-defying feats, sassiness, sexiness and humour is unleashed onto the stage”

‘Lafayette’ is a name that conjures exoticism, glamour, and a Parisienne ‘je-ne-sais-quoi’; mixed in with the ‘big-easy’ hedonism of New Orleans. But tucked away in London’s King’s Cross, Lafayette is a music venue with a difference. Established five years ago by Ben Lovett, it has always veered towards embracing a more eclectic theatricality; its traditional roots seeking out the avant-garde. Teaming up with ‘Strut and Fret’ and the Menier Chocolate Factory, it has met its match with “Sabrage”, a unique, salacious and somewhat chaotic theatre experience that bewilders and bewitches in equal measure.

We are led through an unmarked, leather-padded doorway, down a rabbit warren of corridors, and into a Speakeasy. From there – with a cocktail thrust into our hand – we are ushered into the auditorium. The air is as effervescent as the drinks. The definition of ‘Sabrage’ is the ceremonial practice of opening a champagne bottle with a sabre. And with a flourish, that action begins the show. It takes a little while, however, for the co-hosts to rise to our expectations. Spencer Novich and Remi Martin (which may or may not be his real name) are trying just a touch too hard while slipping into ‘Eurotrash’ style caricature and over-egging the audience participation. Their banter dominates. The acts are a sideshow. We want the balance redressed. Maybe there was an emergency meeting during the interval, for the second act is a different beast altogether. The pace feels as though it has been shaken up in a magnum of the finest Bollinger and a stream of virtuosity, acrobatics, dancing, singing, burlesque, gravity-defying feats, sassiness, sexiness and humour is unleashed onto the stage.

Novich’s and Martin’s talents are truly revealed, particularly Novich during an ingenious, rapid-fire and completely absurd lip-synch routine. Emma Phillips performs some quite stunning juggling acts with a set of Chinese parasols, using just her feet. But she doesn’t stop there. A solid wooden table is the next prop, to which Phillips somehow manages to give the gift of graceful flight as she spins it into the air from one foot to the other. Flynn Miller and Kimberley Bargenquast are a strikingly charismatic aerial duo whose movements through the air are precise yet hauntingly and musically erotic. Christian Nimri dances like an acrobat on his roller-skates, while Skye Ladell and Rechelle Mansour complement their own dancing artistry with fine vocal skills. All individual acts, they frequently overlap and combine into spectacular ensembles. Under Scott Maidment’s inventive direction it is sometimes hard to believe that the cast is composed of just eight performers.

The erratic nature of the show throws up many moments of downright silliness too. A trio of French maids writhe to a disco beat with dusters and aerosols. And throughout the show, plenty of flesh is shown. Even, at one point, a certain part of the (male) anatomy is transformed into a bizarre percussion instrument. Thankfully (depending on your penchant) this is more heard than seen – but our imaginations are nonetheless left underused. Oh, and if you are more than a little apprehensive about being singled out in the audience, there isn’t much escape. But by the time this show has found its feet and is in full swing, escape is far from our minds. “Sabrage” is a spectacle that draws you in. A fair bit of pruning at the outset wouldn’t go amiss. It’s an acquired taste but after the initial discomfort it goes down smoothly. A heady mix – laced with bubbles. Not quite cabaret, not quite circus, but an intoxicating blend that can’t fail to get corks popping.

(THIS IS NOT A) HAPPY ROOM

King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“struggles to know itself: its heavy in content, but its comedy is competitive, rather than complementary”

(THIS IS NOT A) HAPPY ROOM

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Mark Senior

Previously reviewed at this venue:

(THIS IS NOT A) HAPPY ROOM

(THIS IS NOT A) HAPPY ROOM

(THIS IS NOT A) HAPPY ROOM

SABRAGE

Lafayette

★★★★

“a stream of virtuosity, acrobatics, dancing, singing, burlesque, gravity-defying feats, sassiness, sexiness and humour is unleashed onto the stage”

SABRAGE

Lafayette

Reviewed on 26th March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Matt Crockett

Recently reviewed by Jonathan:

SABRAGE

SABRAGE

SABRAGE