MRS DALLOWAY

Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★

“Cleverly constructed, this show certainly makes us think”

Virginia Woolf’s “Mrs Dalloway” is best known for its ‘stream-of-consciousness’ narrative, breaking away from the conventional style of popular literature at the time it was published in 1925. A risk perhaps, but one that Woolf pulled off successfully. A century later, it could be conceived as a bit of a risk to adapt it for the stage, but Kit Green – the co-writer and performer – pulls it off equally well. Along with writer and director Jen Heyes, the pair have devised what they call ‘cine-theatre’ to explore the many themes and characters of the novel. A mix of film and live performance, it also dips into cabaret, breaking the fourth wall with an over-generous amount of audience interaction. Slightly irreverent, the mix of style and media could be a mess. Kit Green, however, has the charisma and presence to clearly guide us through the essentially plotless action, as she wafts about the stage, dipping into the many characters that populate the day-in-the-life novel.

Clarissa Dalloway is getting ready for her party. An upper-class Londoner, she has the time and luxury to indulge in her own thoughts, which fluctuate mainly between disillusion, depression and delight. Predominantly the first two, it could all become a bit maudlin, but Green frequently breaks away into her own character, adding a further element of stand-up to the evening’s entertainment. Green’s is a natural performance, putting us at ease before ‘plunging us into the heart of the moment’, as she enigmatically and teasingly repeats. Once in that ‘heart’, she effortlessly adopts the various characters: the self-conscious Clarissa Dalloway; her world-weary, unimpressed maid; the disconnected Mr Dalloway; the enigmatic Peter Walsh who Clarissa regrettably let slip away in her youth; her old friend Sally with whom she shared a furtive kiss; the ill-fated war veteran Septimius Smith; and many others.

The timing is impeccable, made more impressive during Green’s dialogue with the characters projected onto a giant screen (all played by herself too). Monika Koeck’s video design dominates the back wall, providing setting and atmosphere as well as the supporting cast. At one moment we are in the thick of the party, another moment we are immersed deep into the traumatised mind of Septimius Smith. The conversations between screen and stage are deftly executed, often difficult to differentiate the live from the pre-recorded. Stephen Hull’s compositions and stirring sound design, along with Phil Saunders’ evocative lighting complement the narrative to produce multi-layered moments of magic.

Less successful are the attempts at bringing audience members into the story. An invitation to play party games is an unnecessary interruption to the flow of the show. And an eighties style disco number jars with its incongruity. A grand piano sits downstage, sadly underused. Green is a proficient pianist and songwriter, and we would like to see her at the keyboard more often.

The writing, despite Green’s anachronistic ad-libbing, is faithful to Woolf’s original, yet comes across as strikingly contemporary. Green’s own reflections cleverly emphasize Woolf’s enduring relevance, paradoxically asking the audience at one point if there was anything to relate to in the text. After all, the story is a hundred years old – written six years after a pandemic, during a time of social change and economic crisis, with five prime ministers in the space of as many years. “I mean” she quips “what can there possibly be to relate to today?”

“Mrs Dalloway” brilliantly places Woolf’s story in the modern day while managing to retain the sense of period. They never clash, and with the mix of comedy, music, video, dialogue and recital we are drawn into the minds of characters that Green makes very real. Funny and tender, occasionally traumatic, but tinged with hope. Cleverly constructed, this show certainly makes us think. Without the budget of a West End, star-driven, solo show it is richer in heart and emotion. And, as a result, quite spectacular in its own intimate way.

MRS DALLOWAY

Wilton’s Music Hall then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th June 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Andrew AB

MRS DALLOWAY

★★★

“Though it could really sing with some further consideration, Ben Blais has certainly shown us something very real”

Theatrical musings about death and grief abound, but one thing has become incredibly clear — audiences will always buy into them. Grief, after all, is a universal experience that we long to share, while rarely feeling that we can. And so, theatre provides some small form of catharsis, allowing us to process our own emotions on the subject via proxy. Ben Blais, who serves as both writer and director here, seeks to provide that catharsis through an ambitious blend of sincerity, comedy, and straight-up chaos — but it’s clear that the work still needs a bit of polish.

When we meet Charlie (Griffyn Bellah) and his dying mother (Hannah Harquart), it is via a strange, often difficult to follow call-and-response duologue that goes on just a bit too long. We are soon introduced to Death (Joseph Bellis), posing as a newly moved-in neighbour, who wishes to spend some time with Charlie’s mom… presumably to take her away and end her suffering. What follows is a series of vignettes where Charlie finds any possible way to avoid what is happening right before his eyes. He can’t bring himself to face the horrific things that are happening to his mother’s decaying body — he describes the sights and the smells in quite visceral detail — but he can’t quite let go either. He entreats Death for more time, chases Death off time and again, but also berates Death for allowing her to suffer so much. The internal conflict is gorgeously played out by Bellah and reflects the very real complexity of grief.

But there are spaces here for improvement. A short section of Shakespearean monologue feels a touch like it’s filling space, more than serving a narrative purpose. The lighting design, provided by Jess Brigham, is ethereal and matches the tonal needs of the piece, but the sound hampers the performance at times, causing some lines to be lost in the chaos. A threat of suicide toward the end of the show feels particularly unbalanced, unrooted, and perhaps unearned — though it is threatened with a finger gun, it still feels rather jarring, particularly when followed by another character telling the one with a finger gun pointed at their temple to “try harder”. For a show that deals quite sensitively with other matters of death, it doesn’t seem to have interrogated its relationship with suicide or self-harm very well.

With all that said, the storytelling structure, the book-ends that Blais provides are what really show his promise as a writer. Death has a constant refrain for Charlie throughout the piece — “show me something real”. Though it could really sing with some further consideration, Ben Blais has certainly shown us something very real.

Tag Archives: Andrew AB

MRS DALLOWAY

★★★★

UK Tour

MRS DALLOWAY

Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★

“Cleverly constructed, this show certainly makes us think”

MRS DALLOWAY