Category Archives: Reviews

OUR MAN IN HAVANA

★★★

UK Tour

OUR MAN IN HAVANA

Theatre Royal Windsor

★★★

“the intelligence of Francis’ script shines through”

Graham Greene’s “Our Man In Havana”, published in 1958, is set in a time just before the Cuban Revolution that overthrew the dictatorship of Fulgencio Batista. Greene had recently been deported from Cuba for having been a member of the Communist party as a student. For his novel, he drew on his own experiences as a counter-intelligence officer for MI6, resulting in a biting satire of the Cold War intelligence agencies. Hardly fertile ground for humour, but Greene managed to create a light-hearted, farcical insight into the world of espionage without compromising his attention to detail and literary imagination.

Clive Francis’ stage adaptation of the novel shows the same attention to detail, with very little of the book’s narrative overlooked, and pretty much all the characters present and correct. The fact that over thirty roles are played by a cast of four is a feat in itself. Or rather, three actors: Jack Ashton, who plays the central protagonist, Wormold, has the luxury of focusing on his one role while, all around him, the other three are rushing around adopting multiple personalities at breakneck speed. It is a work-out just watching and trying to keep up. Familiarity with Greene’s story will definitely help, but it is not essential.

Wormold is a British vacuum cleaner salesman, seemingly stranded in Havana, and in a dead-end job. It is the city where he fell in love, and he seems to be grasping onto it. A bit of a lost cause, he spends his days drinking and worrying about his daughter’s penchant for spending money he hasn’t got. He suddenly finds himself being offered a job as a spy, but is is even less adept at espionage than he is at selling vacuum cleaners. Nevertheless, he somehow manages to spot a way of selling false information and concocting fantasies that keep HQ satisfied, while lining his own pockets. It was – allegedly – a regular practice (Wormold was based on a real-life spy nicknamed ‘Garbo’).

There is almost too much to take in; a challenge that director Philip Wilson faces by pushing the piece rapidly through its paces. Half performance and half narration, the audience are kept up to speed. Greene’s inherent dark comedy suffers, however, and we are treated with slapstick instead of subtle humour. Meanwhile, the individual characters have too little stage time to progress beyond caricature or cameo. The obvious exception is Wormold, whom Ashton successfully steers from bumbling incredulity to a mounting disbelief and horror (almost) that his fake reports are starting to come true, and he needs to start fighting for the safety of friends and loved ones.

Jodie Steele is a striking presence as love interest, Beatrice, with her cut-glass RP accent and taut mannerisms, but is remarkably less convincing as Wormold’s over-indulged daughter, Milly, who at eighteen is going on nine. Bob Barrett relishes his many roles that include the dubious Dr. Hasselbacher and the enigmatic Hawthorne who instigates Wormold’s absurd career change. Leon Ockenden completes the line up with an excess of personalities, including military strongman Segura and, bizarrely, a young Queen Elizabeth.

Julie Godfrey’s set is a warm backdrop that is almost too pristine, lacking the crumbling decadence the piece requires. Transitions, executed by the cast themselves, lead us through various locations from the bars to the brothels to seedy street corners; although the authenticity is often compromised by the action. Car rides are predictable with their well-worn swaying movements and dismembered steering wheels. Strippers and waiters populate scenes, as do stuffed animals and wayward accents, but we are longing to get back to the heart of the matter.

We do get glimpses, and when that happens the intelligence of Francis’ script shines through. As does the sheer energy of the performances. But it somehow misses the point. This is not Graham Greene’s vision of his story by any means (we wonder what he might make of it all) but, like the unwitting hero of the play, we are kept on our toes throughout.



OUR MAN IN HAVANA

Theatre Royal Windsor then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 8th July 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Jack Merriman


 

 

 

 

OUR MAN IN HAVANA

OUR MAN IN HAVANA

OUR MAN IN HAVANA

LOVE YOU LONG TIME (ALREADY)

★★★½

Theatre503

LOVE YOU LONG TIME (ALREADY)

Theatre503

★★★½

“a fine production with tenderness and craft”

A papier-mâché texture softens every object on the Theatre503 stage, dissolving edges as if seen through memory, slightly out of focus. Elsewhere, the set is coming apart: a wall hangs unmoored in mid-air, severed from whatever should hold it up. It’s a fittingly hazy dreamscape for love you long time (already), Katie Đỗ’s play about how trauma travels through mother and daughter.

Directed by Jennifer Tang, the play follows Mai (Tuyen Do), newly arrived in an afterlife unlike the one she pictured, and her daughter Tâm (Molly Harris), reckoning with the shape her mother’s pain left on her life. Long ago, Mai’s husband Long (Jon Chew) betrayed her, and across the play we watch that old wound continue to swallow her: isolation deepening, fear tightening into an anger she never lets go of. That inheritance shadows Tâm too, not least through her friendship with a boy from church, Huy (Zheng Xi Yong): Mai’s distrust of men colours the friendship and stirs tension between mother and daughter. As the initial afterlife scene fades into memory, the two women circle each other across time, trying to find a way through what was passed down as much as left unsaid.

That story mostly unfolds in a naturalistic register, though it’s punctuated by heightened, physical interludes from movement director Dam Van Huynh — one stands out: a surreal, television-inflected sequence in which the actors conjure a ghoulish visage from little more than a veil. This moment captures Mai’s grief and dislocation most vividly, offering a glimpse of a bolder, stranger production.

The performances carry real detail throughout. Harris does a fine job giving Tâm a quieter register than pure anger, her helplessness apparent in the distance she can’t help forcing between them and in the quiet work of undoing what’s passed down. Do, meanwhile, fills Mai with a bitterness that reflects a lifetime spent trying not to be seen, loving sideways through snipes and backhanded compliments, always pushing Tâm towards a steady career or a good marriage. Chew brings real weight to Long without asking for sympathy he hasn’t earned. While Do and Harris might have done more to differentiate the ages their characters pass through; Yong fully embraces that range, lending Huy an energetic, lived-in quality whatever the era his character inhabits.

Beneath those performances sits writing clearly alert to the risk of melodrama: Tâm even remarks that her life feels like a soap opera, and there are moments, not least her own romantic entanglements, where the observation lands. But it doesn’t diminish the story; instead, the melodrama serves as a funhouse mirror, letting generational trauma unfurl in new ways rather than repeat.

That funhouse-mirror effect carries through the design, too. TK Hay’s set and costume design sustains the dreamlike quality, while Cheng Keng’s lighting is just as considered, shaping the stage with a sudden, sharp flash of blue, or a stop-start, stuttering quality in transitions that keeps shifts between memory and present feeling alive. Elena Peña’s sound design cleverly separates memory from afterlife, and Mai’s love of music runs as a gentle thread across the piece, though there’s more yarn left to pull; a production this attuned to memory could have let music carry more weight.

By its close, love you long time (already) tries to leave Mai with something akin to peace, a small slice of heaven after a lifetime of deep complication. Though I’m not fully convinced the production’s ending quite earns its wings, judging by the mother and daughter quietly sniffling in the row ahead of me, perhaps it lands exactly where it needs to. Ultimately, this is a fine production with tenderness and craft, and if the story of what mothers pass down to daughters hasn’t found a clean ending on paper, it clearly finds its mark in the room.



LOVE YOU LONG TIME (ALREADY)

Theatre503

Reviewed on 7th July 2026

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Ikin Yum


 

 

 

 

LOVE YOU LONG TIME

LOVE YOU LONG TIME

LOVE YOU LONG TIME