★★★★★

“a wickedly clever, propulsive and wildly entertaining piece of theatre”

I was lucky enough to catch the culmination of Jack Holden and John Patrick Elliott’s journey with Cruise a couple of years ago at the Apollo, a one-man ode to Soho in the 80s at the height of the AIDS crisis. Blending live music (performed onstage by Elliott) with sharply drawn characters, Holden delivered a performance so magnetic it marked him instantly as a force to be reckoned with.

From Soho to Skidmore this time, Kenrex charts a sprawling true-crime scandal centred on Ken Rex McElroy, a bully who terrorised a small Missouri town for over a decade before finally meeting his demise at the hands of the very community he tormented. Though it may share stylistic bones with Cruise, Kenrex elevates the form entirely: a breathless, precision-engineered piece of theatre powered by a performer who makes a one-man show feel improbably, impossibly full.

Holden and Ed Stambollouian’s script — with Stambollouian also directing — is a marvel in itself: razor-tight, inventive and packed with narrative confidence. Its interview framing device keeps the story humming with momentum. Despite featuring more characters than a Shakespearean history, Holden snaps between voices and physicalities with such agility you stop registering he’s alone up there. He’s clearly relishing every second, scattering standout moments like confetti: a lawyer sequence pitched somewhere between legal argument and musical number, and an early description of the titular McElroy so quietly forensic it becomes a transformation in real time.

Act Two maintains the pace effortlessly. There’s a nimble recap that’s stitched together through radio static and quotations, which sweeps you instantly back into the story without a moment of drag. The imaginative clarity continues until the end: a circle of microphones representing half the town becomes a visual chorus, and a narrowing spotlight isolates Holden as the mayor’s grip on the community falters. It’s smart, expressive stagecraft: everything working in harmony to create the illusion of dozens of people sharing the stage, when in reality it’s just two artists entirely in sync.

Joshua Pharo’s lighting becomes a living part of the storytelling — shifting from concealment to revelation, muddying the edges of a scene one moment and sharpening them the next, always giving Holden something tangible to push against. A spotlight lands on an empty microphone as a gag; police strobes whip the stage into a car-chase fantasia. Meanwhile, Giles Thomas’ sound design, often subtly tucked beneath the live music, does equally vital work in animating Holden’s world: one mic becomes a tinny phone receiver; a tape recorder crackles to life mid-scene, giving Holden yet another texture to play off. It’s phenomenal work from the creative team, constantly making it feel as though Holden is never alone on stage.

The set (Anisha Fields) is used with the same imaginative clarity. A single mic is pulled taut to become a rifle. a short flight of stairs becomes the mayor’s office, a judge’s bench, a small-town café. Holden’s physicality fills in the rest. Elliott’s live score and vocals are woven so subtly he sometimes seems to vanish entirely, only to resurface and steer the emotional temperature of the room. His integration is seamless; he isn’t an accompanist so much as an additional narrative organ.

For all its ingenuity, what lingers about Kenrex — and earns its deserved standing ovation — is the confidence with which the piece tells its story. Nothing is wasted, and the invention never feels like decoration: it’s functional storytelling delivered with theatrical wit, the work of a creative team operating at full command of their tools.

Kenrex is a wickedly clever, propulsive and wildly entertaining piece of theatre. It’s the kind of show that reminds you how expansive solo performance can be when craft, character and design lock together with this much precision. A small-town saga becomes a full-scale epic through nothing but light, sound and one performer who seems able to conjure an entire county out of thin air.

MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL at Charing Cross Theatre

★★★

“The music is the highlight, even though it often feels it belongs to another story.”

Marie Curie, née Maria Salomea Sklodowska, is remembered for her discovery of radium and polonium (the latter named after her native Poland); and for her huge contribution to finding treatments for cancer. The latter is what she is generally celebrated for, along with the hospital and charity that bear her name. Less is probably known about her years of obsessive scientific research and the opposition and misogyny she faced while trying to get her name onto the periodic table. The science goes over most people’s heads, whereas the enduring image is of Marie, buttoned up to the neck in black, gazing unsmiling into the camera.

An unlikely subject for a musical. But composer Jongyoon Choi and librettist Seeun Choun obviously decided to give it a go. After making the finals of the ‘Glocal Musical Live’ competition in Korea it secured funding and eventually premiered in Seoul in 2018. Apparently, Tom Ramsay’s English adaptation (with lyrics translated by Emma Fraser) marks the first time a Korean musical is staged in English.

There are elements to this musical that would have many a physicist scratching their head. Its essence is not instantly discoverable despite condensing Marie’s story into a one act musical. It concentrates on her relocation to Paris, charting her struggle to fit into a man’s world. The narrative follows her research and discoveries, the adverse and tragic effects of these discoveries and the subsequent battles against corporate baddies. The love interest is supplied by fellow scientist and husband, Pierre Curie, although it is a bit of a cold fusion. The passion is reserved for the chemical elements, with love songs titled ‘Radium Paradise’ (parts one and two no less). In fact, the show could have been called ‘Radium: The Musical’.

It opens at the end with Marie’s daughter, Irène (Lucy Young), reading her mother’s memoirs while Ailsa Davidson’s spectral, black-clad Marie watches. Davidson’s fine, pure voice sits well on the lush strings of the prologue as she guides the story back to the start. Rose Montgomery’s changeable set is with her every step of the way, from the train carriage as it pulls into Paris, to the laboratories and the factories. On the journey, Marie meets fellow Pole, Anne Kowalska (Chrissie Bhima), a lowly factory worker who later becomes the voice of justice and moral reasoning. It takes a while to get there, though, with the bulk of the show comprising a song cycle leading up to Marie’s discovery of radium.

The tone darkens when the destructive side of radium manifests itself. Initially used as luminous paint for watches and clock dials, the painters were instructed to lick their brushes to give them a fine point. It didn’t take long for this practice to lead to a sharp peak in the death rate among the workers. Covered up as a syphilis outbreak (did they really think they could get away with that?), the factory boss (Richard Meek) finds himself at loggerheads with Marie.

It is refreshing to see the story focus on a relatively short time span rather than attempting to create an epic chronicle of the woman’s life. It lends a human touch, steering the piece away from docudrama. Marie’s later years and achievements are glossed over during the finale. We might not learn a great deal that we already didn’t know but instead we are joyously swept along by Jongyoon Choi’s sumptuous score, rich in violins, cellos and clarinet. The music is the highlight, even though it often feels it belongs to another story. Choi’s compositions are indeed stirring, yet the lyrics and subject matter don’t always echo the passion.

The passion, however, is undeniable in the performances, and we also come away with some pertinent reminders of the historical struggle of women with a society against them. But despite the beauty of the score, and Emma Fraser’s arrangements, there is a sense that this story belongs more to the spoken word.

KENREX

The Other Palace

★★★★★

“a wickedly clever, propulsive and wildly entertaining piece of theatre”

KENREX

The Other Palace

Reviewed on 10th December 2025

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Kenrex

Kenrex

Kenrex

MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL at Charing Cross Theatre

★★★

“The music is the highlight, even though it often feels it belongs to another story.”

MARIE CURIE – THE MUSICAL at Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 7th June 2024

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Pamela Raith

Previously reviewed at this venue:

MARIE CURIE

MARIE CURIE

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