COMFORT

Barons Court Theatre

★★★★

“An important story told with tenderness and care”

‘Comfort women’ – state sanctioned sex slaves captured by the Japanese Imperial Army during WWII – remains a dark chapter in history. In the Philippines, shame and stigma silenced many survivors for decades, with ongoing social and political erasure to this day. Most died without justice, but the handful who remain fight with unwavering resolve. ‘Comfort’ is a searing testament to their suffering and a powerful tribute to their resolve, honouring the enduring hope, strength, and resilience of Pinay spirit.

Welcome – Lola Hilum is eagerly awaiting you. This winningly sharp Filipina grandmother (“I’m still cute, no?”) reflects on life and loss through flashbacks and song, recalling pre war family warmth, her time with the resistance, and, ultimately, sexual slavery. Yet she emerges with grace, hope and resilience – a story as uplifting as it is devastating.

As someone with Filipino heritage, I’m struck by Giannine Tan’s true to life writing and effortless ad libbing. She nails the quirks of ‘Tanglish,’ weaving in phrases my relatives use, with a good balance of languages – though occasional longer runs of Bisaya/Tagalog risk losing English speakers. The structure delivers maximal emotional impact, drawing us in with casual intimacy and slowly building the tension, before landing an emotional gut punch handled with such sensitivity I’m genuinely blown away. Yet the halves feel a little uneven: the first is a little wordy at times, reading more like a history lesson than a family visit; a chicken/family metaphor, though capturing a whimsy that sharpens later emotional blows, could be slimmed down for pace. The second half, however, lands with real force. Songs gain new meaning, silence speaks volumes, and everyday chores haunted by past demons evoke years of unspoken pain. Overall, it’s a strong script needing only minor refinement.

Elisabeth Tu’s direction lands the emotional blows. Heartfelt performances and overall slick pacing form a strong core, with emotionally unguarded singing overcoming the folk songs’ language barrier. The chicken puppets’ innocence contrasts powerfully with the faceless khaki shirts, their interchangeability underscoring the relentless abuse. Yet Lola Hilum’s characterisation could use sharper contrast with her younger self, and while her age adds poignancy, her pacing occasionally drags.

No Filipino production feels complete without music, and ‘Comfort’ weaves in plenty of folk songs. Yet it never feels forced, the raw vocals and simple acoustic guitar accompaniment evoking the era and delivering natural and moving performances.

The design is understated yet precise. Izzy Cresswell’s props and set unobtrusively enrich the story, each choice layered with meaning – from chickens as family, to washing line backdrops, to shirts as wash cloths, every choice feels considered and deliberate. Tu’s lighting is impressively complex for an underground space, with subtle washes and spots adding context and drama. Yeo Dana’s technical delivery is tight. Costumes are simple yet effective, defining characters and inventively creating faceless figures through the manipulation of khaki shirts.

Giannine Tan’s Lola Hilum is invitingly endearing, her easy audience rapport radiating warmth and charm. When a Japanese Imperial Army officer takes an interest in her, Tan deftly conveys the loathing, fear, anger and reluctant sympathy churning inside her, feeling strikingly real. Yet we would benefit from sharper contrasts between her younger and older selves, as the two seem a little too alike at times. As ensemble and guitarists, Janna May and Mary Suarez bring innocent charm. Their confident musicianship and seamless harmonising enrich the soundscape, while their manipulation of the shirts in the climactic scene is so deft it makes the men feel tangible.

As my first show review to make me openly weep, I strongly recommend seeing ‘Comfort’ even with its imperfections. An important story told with tenderness and care, you’ll laugh, cry, learn and leave with a newfound appreciation of Filipino culture and the extraordinary strength of its ‘comfort women’.

COMFORT

Barons Court Theatre

Reviewed on 8th November 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Recenetly reviewed by Hannah

WOMEN OVER 30 DON’T MATTER | ★★★★ | THE SPACE | November 2025

KILL YOUR FATHER | ★★★ | ETCETERA THEATRE | November 2025

GWENDA’S GARAGE | ★★★ | SOUTHWARK PLAYHOUSE BOROUGH | November 2025

JULIUS CAESAR | ★★★★ | OMNIBUS THEATRE | October 2025

LITTLE M | ★★★½ | THE PLACE | October 2025

DECIPHERS | ★★★★ | THE CORONET THEATRE | October 2025

MIMI’S SHEBEEN | ★★★★ | SADLER’S WELLS EAST | October 2025

REPERTÓRIO N.1 | ★★★★★ | PORCHESTER HALL | October 2025

COMFORT

★★★

“an unusual, darkish romcom with thoughtful messages and ideas to discover”

If we were only allowed to speak 140 words a day, who would we save them for and what would we say? How would we manage without small talk or singing along to our favourite songs? In ‘Lemons…’ (not to waste words) writer, Sam Steiner, creates a stifled world of confined expression and prompts us to consider the implications on both a personal level and as a society. Oliver and Bernadette, musician and lawyer, meet in the romantic setting of a cat graveyard, fall in love and soon move in together. As the relationship develops, the bumps appear; she is jealous of his ex and he finds her work hard to accept. Sometimes they talk about it, sometimes they don’t. When the Government passes the ‘Quietude Bill’ they realise what it will mean to lose what they have always taken for (140) granted.

Steiner builds the narrative with a string of short, non-chronological dialogues, following the journey of the pair’s communication from dreamy beginnings to when ‘I love you’ becomes a habit. He suggests, perhaps a little unimaginatively, alternative ways they might communicate in the future and demonstrates how they waste their word limit as hurtful ammunition. The script is carefully linked throughout with random numbers referring to the daily ration and the ‘Westminster’ theme clearly makes itself heard. But the action wavers between ‘their’ story and the political outside world, not quite focusing on either and not reaching a culminating point.

The strong chemistry between Jemima Murphy’s precise, crafted acting and Charlie Suff’s natural stage presence engages the audience emotionally and director, Hamish Clayton, creates a cinematic effect, punctuating the fragmented scenario with choreographed set changes and accompanying lighting (Gregory Jordan) and sound (Charlotte Brown). However, the uniformity and repetition produces a linear form, lacking overall shape, and the constant soundscape (with the exception Madness’ Baggy Trousers) pushes the audience into the corresponding moods rather than being drawn in by the actors. It only becomes theatrically dramatic, apart from a couple of political outbursts from Oliver, when they decide to spend their last five minutes of carefree conversation telling each other what has really been on their minds.

Although it feels ironed out and in need of a few creases, ‘Lemons…’ is an unusual, darkish romcom with thoughtful messages and ideas to discover. Less explicit programme notes would allow everyone their own interpretation of analogies as, in the end, more than a political statement about freedom of speech or the tenuous parallel of Brexit, it incites us to reflect on our own ability and fear of putting our hearts and souls into words.

Reviewed by Joanna Hetherington

Photography by Maximilian Clarke

Tag Archives: Baron’s Court Theatre

COMFORT

★★★★

Barons Court Theatre

COMFORT

Barons Court Theatre

★★★★

“An important story told with tenderness and care”