TELL ME

The Place

★★★★

“imaginative and full of striking choices”

Forty-five years on from the AIDS crisis, HIV still carries significant stigma despite being fully treatable. Fresh from its 2025 world premiere, ‘Tell Me’ arrives in London determined to challenge outdated misconceptions. Blending circus, dance and theatre, it’s tender yet unflinching, offering hope without compromising honesty. Even in its evolving form, its 2026 tour demands attention – it might just save a life.

It’s 2026 and Grace receives a diagnosis she never imagined – HIV. Through modern eyes, we reach back to those who endured the 1980s AIDS crisis, honouring their legacy while confronting lingering misconceptions and looking towards a more hopeful future.

Produced by Turtle Key Arts, Sadiq Ali Company unveils a new iteration of ‘Tell Me’, devised by Sadiq Ali (the Company’s Artistic Director), Phoebe Knight and Jonah Russell, with dramaturgy by Rishi Trikha and choreography consultancy from Jonathan Lunn and Junior Cunningham. The potent blend of Chinese pole, aerial, dance and theatre feels effortlessly cohesive. Circus elements add real jeopardy: a standout moment involves Ali slipping from a cube with no safety – a gripping image of turmoil and struggle. The sparing use of speech lands with real weight, with cheers, grunts and quiet sobs conveying rare realism for a dance led work. Queer joy sits exactly where it should, celebrating life alongside pain.

That said, the narrative could be clearer. A plastic shroud reads like misinformed 1980s post-mortem practices, making Ali’s later scenes feel like new characters rather a continuous arc. A demonic figure’s surreal demeanour clashes with the otherwise grounded tone. The past–present contrast could go further: the modern day arc feels less defined, and the masked doctor’s blunt delivery of Grace’s diagnosis undercuts the idea of improved care. Overall, though, there’s powerful work here.

Devised by Ali, Knight and Russell, with associate direction from Hauk Pattison, the show is confidently steered. The opening sequence of pulsing, spinning Chinese pole cages lands with real force, immediately establishing a visual language that becomes a character in its own right. The final, gentler montage serves as a homecoming. The storytelling feels authentic (demonic detour aside), and the inventive use of Chinese poles as set and apparatus brings the world to life. That said, a couple of scenes could be tightened, such as Grace’s languid penultimate scene, and one bit of blocking distractingly places Ali and Russell behind moving set. Overall though the direction is imaginative and full of striking choices.

Ali, Knight and Russell deliver emotionally charged performances, moving authentically between joy, anguish and everything in between. Ali is especially magnetic, offering a masterful mix of strength, subtlety and emotional depth. Knight and Russell deliver thoughtful, affecting performances while pulling off impressive physical feats, though a couple of moments could be tightened to maintain the intentionality behind the rawness.

Aslı Özüak’s scenography has a stark, elegant simplicity, letting the Chinese poles command the space as they come to life. The nested cube design is inspired, shifting between set, cage and shelter, and tiny cubes as HIV diagnoses are a brilliant touch. Özüak’s costumes are sharply judged and drive the narrative. The 80s looks are effortlessly chic, and red for the HIV awareness ribbon threads thoughtfully through. The only less assured moment is the overly contrasting devil. Guy Veale’s sound design is potent, creating a sharply attuned and vivid soundscape that balances realism, abstraction, cheekiness and sobriety. A couple of transitions land slightly late, but the overall execution is strong. Jamie Heseltine’s lighting is beautifully judged with a keen instinct for when to let darkness speak. Light searching through shadow is especially evocative, and bold touches – a burst of strobe, a backlit smoke box – add real texture.

Though still evolving, ‘Tell Me’ tackles its subject with a maturity and tenderness that already resonate deeply. I’m excited to see how it develops and highly recommend catching it on tour.

TELL ME

The Place

Reviewed on 23rd January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Alberto Santos Bellido

TELL ME

★★★

“a promising beginning for an artist who has found a whole new world to explore on stage”

Ruxy Cantir’s Pickled Republic is a one woman show celebrating pickled vegetables. Or it would be a celebration, if these vegetables were not overly ripe, deep in bubbling brine, and full of existential angst. Playing at the Anatomy Lecture Theatre in Summerhall, this piece is a quirky offering that will have you questioning all you thought you knew about vegetable life, and yes, the process of pickling.

Pickled Republic is not just about anthropomorphized vegetables, though. Part cabaret, part mime, and part puppetry, Cantir’s show defies easy definition. She begins by introducing us to a tomato in the process of collapsing in on itself as it waits in futility for a hand to reach into the pickling jar. The tomato knows that this is its last chance to be eaten and have a chance at passing its genes along. When we’ve stopped laughing at the absurdity of all this, we realize there is much that is disquieting as well. (Cantir’s tomato costume, and the way she substitutes her legs for hands has to be seen to be believed.) As anyone who has pickled in the past knows, trying to pickle a soft vegetable like a tomato is a very bad idea. Cantir’s monologue plays out against a soundtrack of bubbling brine, and other, more sinister sounds. I’m sure most of us must be thinking about botulism at this point. We all know that hand is never going anywhere near the pickle jar. The poor tomato knows it too.

From tomatoes, Cantir deftly changes into a cabaret singer (lyrics John Kielty) in a sparkling dress, with a potato head. Seriously. With a suitably gravelly voice, lots of jokes about eyes, and lots of audience “eye” contact as well, this potato can sing, and has va-voom to spare. Then it’s the turn of an onion poet at a poetry slam, full of layers, naturally. We move from onions to an overly proud mama carrot showing off her baby carrot. Turns out the baby’s a poet too, but his poem “does not end well.” There are a couple more cabaret acts featuring a dancing cucumber, and then more tomatoes. Pickled Republic does not seem to like tomatoes very much, but then we all have vegetables (or fruits, I guess) that we love to hate.

There’s lots of inventiveness in this show, and Cantir works hard with her performance skills and audience engagement. The costume design, the lighting and the sound track that accompanies this sixty minute show are nicely managed. But at best this is a series of clever skits about vegetables. The deeper questions about vegetable life in the pickle jar go unanswered, and an opportunity for a narrative arc that holds it all together is lost. But it’s a promising beginning for an artist who has found a whole new world to explore on stage. I feel sure that there will be many vegetables in Cantir’s future, clamouring for their moment in the spotlight, whether pickled or not.

Tag Archives: Alberto Santos Bellido

TELL ME

★★★★

The Place

TELL ME

The Place

★★★★

“imaginative and full of striking choices”