★★★★

“There are twists and turns as we are shuffled between ever growing layers of reality and fantasy”

It was the ancient Chinese philosopher, Chuang Tzu, who first formulated the ‘dreaming argument’, that goes some way to explain the unsettling experience of waking up from a dream and not fully knowing whether we are in reality, or whether we are still in the dream believing we are awake. There are quite a few moments in Sarah Ruhl’s “Stage Kiss” that provoke a similar sensation. Towards the end of her wry and unique take on the ‘play within a play’ concept, we begin to fail to tell the difference. It is a framing device that Rhul handles with skill, in the same way that she can combine making us laugh while we simultaneously question human relationships.

Inspired by her experiences as a playwright in the rehearsal room, “Stage Kiss” is a tribute to the acting profession, reflecting the absurd yet fascinating concept of faking reality for a living. It is also a romantic comedy. Set in an indeterminate present – though before intimacy coordinators became a thing – it focuses on two actors who have been lovers in the past and are now both cast in a play in which they must kiss each other repeatedly. They need to make the kiss convincing but at the same time they must maintain the boundary between their real lives outside the theatre and the emotional lives they are fabricating on stage. The added complication of a previous shared intimacy and heartbreak adds fuel to the already incendiary dilemma. The lines get well and truly blurred in Ruhl’s story of life imitating art imitating life.

Despite the premise; the writing, acting and the direction are all steeped in reality. It takes a particular skill to portray bad writing, bad acting and bad directing convincingly, without coming across as just being bad. Each department here are truly excellent. The first act opens in the audition room for the premiere of the preposterously written fictional play, ‘The Last Kiss’, before moving into the rehearsal room and then finally onto opening night. Blanche McIntyre directs with the sharpest eye on realism, matched by the cast’s unfailing authenticity and naturalism. There is deep affection for the industry that gives licence to satirise it to the hilt. Whether you relate to it as an insider or not, the comedy is perfectly pitched and the characterisation astonishingly accurate. If anybody stands out, it is Myanna Buring, who lights up the stage with her nuanced portrayal of the lead actress (simply referred to as ‘she’) whose foundations are shaken by the arrival of her leading man (the wonderful Patrick Kennedy). Rolf Saxon, as the director, brilliantly encapsulates the misguided and ineffectual earnestness of the fictional ‘luvvie’ world that these characters inhabit. It is sheer joy watching them murder their art, aided and abetted by Oliver Dimsdale’s cuckolded husband, and James Phoon as the out-of-his-depth understudy. Toto Bruin and Jill Winternitz complete the line-up, relishing their bit-part roles and drawing them into the comedy spotlight.

Whilst the humour is preserved in the second act, the tone shifts dramatically. Opening night for ‘The Last Kiss’ is done and dusted, the reviews are terrible and we are now in a shabby apartment. Onstage romance has overlapped into real life. We tread close to farce but, again, the writing and the acting are too fine to cross that boundary. Multi-rolling comes into play as Dimsdale is now the real-life cuckold and Bruin the daughter caught in the crossfire of adult infidelities; while Winternitz doubles as the wronged girlfriend. We are witnessing the aftermath. The real life. But like Tzu’s dream, we have to remind ourselves we are still watching make believe. Saxon returns as the director, with an even more outrageously bad idea for another play. There are twists and turns as we are shuffled between ever growing layers of reality and fantasy, in between which are surprising moments of serious and heartfelt poignancy.

Against the backdrop of Robert Innes Hopkins’ shifting and authentic sets, “Stage Kiss” is disconcertingly clever. It starts with a kiss. But that kiss is just the foreplay to something much more intimate and complicated. And brilliantly funny too. Just like real life I guess, if you’re able to tell it apart. But even if we are led to question it, one thing is for certain. The play within the play received terrible reviews. Ruhl’s play is unquestionably the real thing.

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

Orange Tree Theatre

★★★★★

“an exceptionally polished production, beautifully staged, superbly written and flawlessly performed”

Even one hundred and thirty years after his death, we still haven’t got the pronunciation of Vincent Van Gogh’s name quite right (the Americans are even further off the mark). Which is why Vincent initially introduces himself as ‘Mr Vincent’ in Nicholas Wright’s subtly evocative and brilliantly crafted play “Vincent in Brixton”. Vincent’s frustration is matched by his bewilderment at the English way of life, coupled with a desire to fit in. “I’m learning diplomatic English” he proudly proclaims. But there are other barriers too, most notably his innocent directness and tactlessness – a raw naivety that exposes secrets. This often starts him off on the wrong foot, but Dutch actor Jeroen Frank Kales paints a profoundly endearing picture of the post-impressionist painter in all his eccentricity and candour.

We are in Brixton in the 1870s, where the young Vincent has arrived to work as an art dealer for his family’s business. His heart isn’t in it (we soon learn that his heart is elsewhere) and his own latent artistic talent is still yet to be realised. He moves into the home of widowed teacher Ursula Loyer (Niamh Cusack) and her daughter, Eugenie (Ayesha Ostler). Unaware that Eugenie is secretly and romantically entangled with fellow lodger Sam Plowman (Rawaed Asde), Vincent immediately falls for her with brash inappropriateness, only to rapidly transfer his affections to her mother. It all sounds a touch callous and furtive, but the writing and the acting is so faultlessly accomplished and convincing that what unfolds is a touching story of the transforming power of love. Cusack, dressed in black and still mourning her late husband after fifteen years, shifts from melancholy to pure radiance that has our hearts beating with joy (temporarily… there are twists and reveals in the script that you need to go and find out for yourself).

The attention to detail is extraordinary. Designer Charlotte Henery’s nineteenth century lodging house is beautifully created. Take note – dine well before seeing this show; the aromas of melting butter and roasting lamb will have you salivating while a meal is prepared in real time. References to Van Gogh’s future works are ingeniously and discreetly slotted into the dialogue and the blocking (look out for the pair of boots). Wright has created an artwork in itself, which director Georgia Green has framed with an artist’s eye for perfection.

The story may or may not be true. The events are historically accurate, but the affairs are speculative, yet in this company’s hands they are convincingly real and heartfelt. Kales’ merciless honesty is lovable and hilarious in equal measure. It never takes long for him to smooth the bristles he invariably triggers in others. Ostler’s Eugenie demonstrates the right mix of disdain and affection, while Sam is unfazed by the intrusion and potential rivalry. Asde plays him with a cheeky grin and a sparkling glint in his eye, self-assured in himself but hesitant in his ambitions. The arrival of Vincent’s sister, Anna, is like a brisk wind that has crossed the North Sea. A masterstroke of casting, Amber Van Der Brugge bears a striking resemblance to Kales, along with the same unfiltered, bull-in-a-china-shop way with words, albeit more extreme and officious. Righteous and evangelistic, she drops bombshells as though cracking eggs for a light breakfast. The humour is reinforced by some of Wright’s glorious one-liners, yet we are never detracted from the heart of the story.

This heart belongs to Cusack and Kales. The dynamics seemingly unfeigned and the incongruous passion believably touching. “A woman does not grow old as long as she loves and is loved”, wrote the real Vincent in a letter to his brother. The sentiment is a leitmotif that runs through the play, but it never becomes a sentimental platitude. We are left unsure as to whether the love lasts – a symbolic, candle-snuffing cue to blackout hints at an ending – yet the feeling of joy remains long after curtain call. “Vincent in Brixton” is an exceptionally polished production, beautifully staged, superbly written and flawlessly performed. Chaotic and intimate, complex but quotidianly accessible. Biographical dramas often fail to convince in an effort to cover too much epic ground. By focusing on a snapshot, whether true to life or not, we are rewarded with a vibrant portrait of life, love and art. What more can you ask for? An unmissable show – although I regret to say that, unless you have bought your ticket already, you may have missed your chance.

Tag Archives: Aundrea Fudge

STAGE KISS

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

STAGE KISS

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“There are twists and turns as we are shuffled between ever growing layers of reality and fantasy”

STAGE KISS

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 14th May 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Murray

STAGE KISS

STAGE KISS

STAGE KISS

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

★★★★★

Orange Tree Theatre

VINCENT IN BRIXTON

Orange Tree Theatre

★★★★★

“an exceptionally polished production, beautifully staged, superbly written and flawlessly performed”