Tag Archives: Alan Mahon

Caterpillar – 4 Stars




Reviewed – 3rd September 2018


“moments of brilliance bounce straight into the laps of the audience”


Alison Carr’s intricate and confident drama, exploring all the complexities of being and feeling vulnerable, the restrictive definitions of femininity and womanhood, and feeling trapped by your circumstance, delivers across the board. Its pace escalates as the plot thickens, handled expertly by a strong cast of three, and moments of brilliance bounce straight into the laps of the audience.

We enter to washes of sea sounds, setting the scene of this uniquely English seaside town. Jac Cooper’s sound design is exactly what this production needs – the soundscapes launch Claire’s opening monologue into an optimistic stratosphere, and later underscoring at climaxes of tension immerses the audience in the characters’ distress. Carr cleverly and subtly weaves in the darkness that is revealed more clearly in the second half of the play, with double meanings and seemingly offhand remarks. This is the sign of a writer who cares about discussing people in detail. Beginning with Claire’s end is utterly bittersweet and careful. Later, when her mother Maeve defends her daughter’s character, we believe her words, having seen Claire articulate what she feels like when she is free. This makes the play’s slow twist all the more crushing – Claire’s actions are not so difficult to understand. The hard issues in Caterpillar are never portrayed crassly.

Judith Amsenga delivers a stoic performance as Claire. She disrupts any camaraderie between Maeve and Simon with jarringly harsh remarks, and is relentlessly difficult to like. At times, this was played too extremely – but director Yasmeen Arden’s decision to go too far rather than not far enough is what the piece needs. Simon’s twisted speech about the spotlessness of his deceased ‘girlfriend’ later brings home how necessary it is to have overtly dislikeable, but still wroughtly complex, female characters. It’s a challenge to audiences, who are used to women quietly holding the fort, while other people and things – including their own self esteem and mental health – have the freedom to crumble around them. Maeve, a single parent, and Claire, an unhappy mother, battle one another because they have forever been fighting the war of expectation; of what society wants from them, and says will make them happy.

Tricia Kelly’s emotional range as Maeve is riveting. She cuts through the play with excellent comic timing, which mixes in with her own quiet suffering, as she recovers from a stroke. Kelly holds the stage when on the phone to her son-in-law and grandson, and her intonation and physical flair are entrancing to watch. Maeve pressures herself to keep a clean, lighthearted and welcoming home environment, which she extends to her guest at the b&b. Alan Mahon peels back Simon’s layers to reveal an altogether more sinister core beneath his battered hang-glider. His own low self-esteem, again deftly introduced by Carr in his first conversation with Claire about a reservation mix-up through her front door, causes him to fetishise and idealise women, to seek those who are vulnerable in order to strengthen his own ego. It’s close to the bone, but it’s not unfamiliar. The best scenes occur when Simon plays alongside each of the women. These jousting matches are well-placed in the play, and Arden plots them well in the space.

Holly Pigott’s set and costume design is a harmony of sunny brights and pastels, which beautifully highlights and offsets the stage action. Some needed space is niftily created by way of a further entrance/exit, taking the characters ‘outside’ – both an escape from their claustrophobia, and a reminder of it. Ben Jacobs’ lighting design is sensual and considerate. Lighting the seaside wooden cage around the stage with LEDs is a master touch. Arden has measured and weighed every line and motion of Caterpillar, and when it is at its best, it’s hard to look away. Caterpillar is at once searingly modern and strikingly timeless, a necessary drama for now.


Reviewed by Eloïse Poulton

Photography by The Other Richard



Theatre503 until 22nd September


Previously reviewed at this venue
Her not Him | ★★★ | January 2018
Br’er Cotton | ★★★★★ | March 2018
Reared | ★★★ | April 2018
Isaac Came Home From the Mountain | ★★★★ | May 2018


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If We Got Some More Cocaine I Could Show You How I Love You – 5 Stars


If We Got Some More Cocaine I Could Show You How I Love You

The Vaults

Reviewed – 25th February 2018


“I’ve rarely come across seventy minutes of theatre which is as simultaneously heart-warming and heart-wrenching”


John O’Donovan’s award winning ‘If We Got Some More Cocaine I Could Show You How I Love You’ is a masterpiece. On a rooftop in rural West Ireland, the lovable rogue Mikey (Andy Mahon) and the charismatic romantic Casey (Josh Williams) hide from the police. Their crimes are late night robberies on a nearby petrol station and then on Casey’s home, but O’Donovan’s extraordinary script forces you to instantly forgive them.

As the play progresses, it becomes apparent that it is not just the police that have surrounded and trapped the young men. Crazy ex-boyfriends, abusive step fathers and the drain of the recession have prevented them from being able to fully commit to each other for a long time. With no option but to stay where they are, Mahon and Williams treat the audience to a tennis match of witty, reminiscent dialogue as Casey and Mikey take us through their childhood wins and losses. Whether hearing about Mikey’s growing, but perhaps unwarranted reputation as a thug or Casey being plucked from his old life and whisked off to Ireland with his spiteful, violent step father, your heart cannot help but break for the struggles these two have faced.

Proudly working their way through their stolen goods (highlights include whisky, cocaine and two different sorts of M&Ms), the couple indulge in each other’s company in what seems to be a rare moment of truthful isolation between them. Indeed, even when the police cars leave the scene the boys stay put. This begs the question: is the rooftop a prison cell or a sanctuary? With one desperately clinging to the inside of the closet and the other beaming at the mere thought of showing off his new partner, the boys are proof that opposites attract. One thing they have in common, however, is their need to feel wanted. As they physically cling to the chimney, they emotionally cling to each other; and it is this that forces you to will them lifelong happiness.

Mahon and Williams deliver O’Donovan’s triumph with dignity, dexterity and determination. Georgia de Grey’s set wouldn’t be out of place in a West End theatre and Thomas Martin’s direction is ingeniously detailed. I’ve rarely come across seventy minutes of theatre which is as simultaneously heart-warming and heart-wrenching and I urge you to see it. Whether the two are trapped on the roof or hiding in their safe place, it’s clear that there is much more than just honour between these two thieves – there is love.


Reviewed by Sydney Austin

Photography by Keith Dixon



If We Got Some More Cocaine I Could Show You How I Love You

Vaults Theatre



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