Tag Archives: Amber Woodward

THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

★★★★

The Glitch

THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

The Glitch

★★★★

“There is wonder and enchantment here”

Are you ready for some Christmas magic? Well by stepping down into a basement beneath a café in Waterloo, you may find a taste of what you’re looking for.

In a beautifully designed (Oli Savage) low-ceilinged room, adorned with Moroccan rugs and shelves piled high with everything from juggling balls to Marlboro Reds, hard hats to plush toys, this dark-panelled space becomes The Lost Library of Leake Street. Though billed as suitable for ages 8+, it’s a surprisingly grown-up festive show. There is wonder and enchantment here, certainly, but once the premise settles, the story leans into weightier themes: grief, loss, and the unexpected kinship that can arise from both.

Our guide to this hidden world is Isla (Ronay Poole), the narrator and emotional anchor of the piece. She introduces us to the library with cheeky energy, teasing out the idea of how such a place might become “lost”. The explanation, never fully watertight, that this is a library of lost things doesn’t quite align with what we see. The most likely explanation, that it’s a library of lost things, doesn’t quite seem to fit the narrative. Here, every item holds a story dear to its owner, and can be deposited as payment in kind for an item with a story of equal value. The mechanics of the mythology may be slightly fuzzy, but it hardly matters; the emotional logic is sound.

The story unfolds through Isla’s discovery of the library for the first time, meeting its enigmatic proprietor, Maximilian Crimp (Malcolm Jeffries).

Both actors are ineffably charismatic. Poole is delightful both as a curious young girl encountering this den of delights and later as Max’s partner, told through the stories of the keys to the library. Jeffries, meanwhile, brings a gentle melancholy to Max, a sort-of-Scrooge whose hermit-like habits stem from an ill-fated love, cut short in its prime.

Together, they navigate a script that is rich, sometimes dense, and delivered at a clip that takes a moment to adjust to. Writer-director Oli Savage clearly relishes language – most evident in saddling his protagonist with the delightfully pompous name “Maximilian Crimp”. Occasionally the running gag of Isla refusing to call the place a library, and Max’s repeated reprimands, wears thin. But otherwise the script is tight, its drama emerging less from interpersonal conflict than from the stories the characters tell, and the emotional worlds those stories open up.

Ultimately, The Lost Library of Leake Street is a play about storytelling itself – about the power of narrative to transport us from our humdrum or grief-stricken realities. In its love of stories, one hears echoes of Matilda, Little Women, even Cinema Paradiso. At its best, it transported me back to evenings listening to my father read to me and my siblings before bed, some of my most treasured childhood memories.

Sweet without being saccharine, this show offers a gentle reminder that the real magic of Christmas lies in connection – through family, friendship, and the tales we share. It’s Christmas-adjacent rather than overtly festive, but delivers the warm glow of the season all the same.



THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

The Glitch

Reviewed on 27th November 2025

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Phoebe Dyer


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

BOY BAND | ★★★ | October 2025
NEVER GET TO HEAVEN IN AN EMPTY SHELL | ★★★ | July 2025
THE RISE AND FALL OF VINNIE & PAUL | ★★★★ | April 2025

 

 

THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

THE LOST LIBRARY OF LEAKE STREET

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

★★★½

Almeida Theatre

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

Almeida Theatre

★★★½

“Grandage’s direction captures the intoxicating glamour and moral decay of 1980s London”

Should we love people for their beauty, or are people made beautiful through being loved? That is one of the central questions of The Line of Beauty, Alan Hollinghurst’s Booker Prize-winning novel, now given its first stage adaptation at the Almeida.

After a seven-year publishing hiatus, Hollinghurst’s 2024 novel Our Evenings reminded readers of his deft treatment of class, race and sexuality in late 20th-century Britain. This adaptation of his 2004 masterpiece, directed by Michael Grandage and adapted by Jack Holden, feels timely again: a period piece that still captures the social anxieties and desires of the present.

The story follows Nick Guest (Jasper Talbot), a young Oxford graduate who moves into the London home of his friend Toby Fedden’s family between 1983 and 1987. The Feddens seem gracious hosts: Gerald (Charles Edwards), a newly minted Tory MP on the up in Thatcher’s Britain, and Rachel (Claudia Harrison), the moneyed, quietly controlling matriarch. Yet beneath their polished hospitality lies an unease—Nick’s sexuality is tolerated rather than embraced, and despite his education and charm, he remains forever an outsider.

The production’s strongest moments come in the first act, contrasting Nick’s initiation into the Feddens’ rarefied world with his tender, complex relationship with Leo (a wonderful Alistair Nwachukwu), his first boyfriend. The class and racial dynamics between them are finely drawn: to the Feddens, Nick is gauche and provincial; to Leo, he represents privilege and aspiration. Their dinner scene at Leo’s family home is the play’s emotional heart, Doreene Blackstock is superb as Leo’s devout Jamaican mother, layering issues of class, race, sexuality and faith with undeniable warmth.

Adam Cork’s sound design brilliantly anchors the production in its era. 80s pop anthems throb through the set, evoking the ecstasy and danger of the decade. Subtler choices are just as effective: a soft echo added to conversations in country estates conjures a chilling sense of distance and grandeur. Christopher Oram’s costumes complete the world—corduroy trousers, baggy shirts, and side ponytails secured with satin scrunchies perfectly capturing the aesthetic of the age.

The play can feel overstuffed. A vast array of characters and subplots race through a decade of shifting politics and private betrayals. Some secondary roles are barely glimpsed, though “Old Pete” (Matt Mella), Leo’s older ex-lover, leaves a lasting impression in just a few minutes on stage.

There are clunky moments: stylised scene transitions, on-the-nose symbolism (a line of cocaine mirroring the “line of beauty”), and some heavy-handed dialogue. And Talbot as Nick feels like a vessel for the audience to view this world rather than a hero: passive, and at times insipidly submissive, forever observing beauty rather than creating it. But Grandage’s direction captures the intoxicating glamour and moral decay of 1980s London, while Arty Froushan’s totally tragic Wani brings a raw vulnerability to the later scenes.

In the end, as the impact of the AIDS pandemic draws closer in and the hypocrisies of wealth and politics are laid bare, Nick’s exile feels inevitable. On the whole this adaptation of The Line of Beauty is a thoughtful, sensuous reflection on love, class and the price of belonging.



THE LINE OF BEAUTY

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 30th October 2025

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Johan Persson


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

ROMANS | ★★★½ | September 2025
A MOON FOR THE MISBEGOTTEN | ★★★★★ | June 2025
1536 | ★★★★ | May 2025
RHINOCEROS | ★★★★ | April 2025
OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025

 

 

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

THE LINE OF BEAUTY

THE LINE OF BEAUTY