Tag Archives: Alex Lowde

ANTIGONE EXITS

★★★★

Minerva Theatre

ANTIGONE EXITS

Minerva Theatre

★★★★

“a thought-provoking and often deeply moving piece of theatre”

Sophocles’ Antigone is more than 2,000 years old, but its central conflict remains remarkably immediate. Antigone’s brother has died in a civil war and her uncle, Creon, now king, has forbidden anyone to bury his body. Antigone is determined to defy him, whatever the consequences.

Antigone Exits, Nina Segal’s adaptation, brings this ancient tragedy into the present day, connecting its questions about war, duty, authority, grief and the treatment of the dead with contemporary experiences. It is a refreshing production that finds an unusual way to make a very old story feel newly relevant.

Seven performers in casual contemporary clothes inhabit the characters, but they also function as something like a Greek chorus. They speak collectively, narrate events and give voice to thoughts that might otherwise remain unspoken. At other points, some step completely outside the drama, moving into the centre of the circle, picking up a microphone and sharing a modern story or experience.

This shifting approach works particularly well. A line such as ‘her child’s questions fill her head’ allows the performers to move beyond simply acting the story and into a shared narration of what the characters are thinking and feeling. The contemporary testimonies then broaden the themes of the tragedy. Some draw direct parallels with current conflicts, including a harrowing recounting of the bodies of five babies recovered in Gaza, while others are more personal, touching on family, childhood, mortality and loss. Max Bennett’s meta-reflection on Antigone through the prism of personal tragedy is particularly powerful and moving.

The seven performers work particularly well as an ensemble. Nina Cassells brings determination and vulnerability to Antigone, while Max Bennett makes Creon a compelling figure, convinced that his decisions are necessary. Anushka Chakravarti (Ismene), Brandon Bassir (Eteocles and Haemon), Lizzy Watts (Eurydice), Melody Chikakane Brown (Tiresias) and Testimony Adegbite (Polyneices and Messenger) all contribute to a company that works particularly well as a collective, moving fluidly between character, chorus and contemporary storyteller. The doubling is especially effective: as Eteocles and Polyneices die, Bassir and Adegbite move into their other roles, reinforcing the sense of a story continually being re-told by those left behind.

Alex Lowde’s design is striking in its simplicity. The stage is painted yellow, with a huge white sphere, rather like a quarter of an eggshell, suspended above it. The actors are already sitting inside it as the audience arrives, and they return to it during the performance, using three boulders to move between the sphere and the floor. There are no conventional sets or props. At one point Antigone pours a black liquid into a perfect circle on the floor, which slowly spreads throughout the performance as the actors carefully avoid it, until they don’t.

The visual effect becomes increasingly potent as the tragedy unfolds. The spreading liquid gradually takes over more of the space, becoming an increasingly powerful image as the body count rises. There is also a striking dance sequence, choreographed by James Cousins, to David Bowie’s ‘Rock ’n’ Roll Suicide’. Uncomfortable to watch and deliberately disruptive, it throws you out of the mood but remains a memorable moment.

Jeff James’s direction keeps the shifts between tragedy, narration and contemporary testimony fluid, without allowing the production to become static. At just 70 minutes, it is a concentrated piece of theatre, but there is plenty here to take away and think about.

There are moments when the contemporary parallels are deliberately direct, but the production is at its most effective when it allows the connections between the ancient story and the present day to emerge through the performers’ experiences.

Segal has created an Antigone that feels both recognisable and unexpected. Its ancient questions remain, but the ways in which they are asked make this a thought-provoking and often deeply moving piece of theatre.



ANTIGONE EXITS

Minerva Theatre

Reviewed on 1st October 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Andy Paradise

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANTIGONE EXITS

ANTIGONE EXITS

ANTIGONE EXITS

A DOLL’S HOUSE

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

A DOLL’S HOUSE

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“the performances are solid and nuanced”

At one point, Nora, drowning in debt and deception, dances in a sexy nurse outfit for her husband and her best friend – two birds with one stone.

Spoiler alert: it is a profoundly unsexy moment. Nora is too freighted with distress to be a fantasy figure, the men too bovine in their strangled lusts to be enchanted.

Real life intrudes and breaks down the illusion into its humdrum parts.

Besides, Nora is too smart to surrender to the pretence. That, in miniature, is the problem she is trying to outrun: life as performance.

Anya Reiss’s update of A Doll’s House places Nora and Torvald in the upper tiers of London finance, where the money is large, the margins tight, and the optics everything.

They are on the cusp of cashing out but the deal is not yet done. Until then, they are living as if the millions are already in the bank. The house is full of Christmas credit card sprees and the mood just shy of panic.

The plot does not need much adjustment from Henrik Ibsen’s original, except that here the women are more clearly the authors of their own misfortune. Nora has committed a financial crime to keep her husband afloat through addiction and recovery. Her husband doesn’t know. It would ruin him. Nils, an employee with a precarious foothold on his own life, opts for blackmail. From there, the screws tighten in familiar ways.

Romola Garai plays ersatz yummy mummy Nora as someone always a fraction ahead of herself but gaining no advantage from the foreknowledge. She dominates the play. Her performance is agitated and magnetic, managing not just her secret but the version of herself that makes the rest of this fakery possible.

Tom Mothersdale’s Torvald is all nervous control. His authority rests on things continuing to go well. He is a man clinging to love, money and illusion with desperation rather than joy. His history of addiction is not overplayed, but it colours everything, especially his hostility to James Corrigan’s Nils. Corrigan gives Nils a sweaty directness the others often avoid. He knows what he wants and says so, where the rest sustain the lie for as long as the lie remains viable.

Reiss threads in contemporary detail. They live on their phones, sealed in a kind of high-end white bunker, with real life kept at bay. Their only connections are via Instagram. The children remain offstage, heard but not seen, and at one point Nora frets that she is simply performing motherhood via FaceTime.

Around the central pair, the performances are solid and nuanced. Thalissa Teixeira’s downbeat Kristine – the most sympathetic in a parade of slithering grotesques – offers a steadier presence and some semblance of hope. Olivier Huband’s Petter Rank, who lusts after Nora, is mostly insufferable.

Director Joe Hill-Gibbins ensures the drama builds cleanly. By the final confrontation, when Nora has no choice but to tell Torvald the truth, there is nothing left to hide behind. The resolution misfires somewhat – the tone all over the place – which leads to deflation rather than explosion.

What remains, however, is a sense of drenching anxiety. This is Snakes on a Plane for the banking set.



A DOLL’S HOUSE

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 9th April 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Marc Brenner


 

 

 

 

A DOLL’S HOUSE

A DOLL’S HOUSE

A DOLL’S HOUSE