SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton

★★★½

“an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off”

Sunny Afternoon tells the story of The Kinks largely on Ray Davies’s terms. With an original story by Davies, whose back catalogue provides the music and lyrics, and a book by Joe Penhall, the musical places Ray firmly at its centre. Other members of the original line-up are present, sometimes vividly so, but this is unmistakably Ray’s version of events, and that perspective shapes both the strengths and limitations of the show.

As with many subject-shaped biographical musicals, darker truths are smoothed over. Ray’s struggles with alcohol are mostly absent, while the band’s volatility is reduced to clashes between Dave and Pete. Ray appears the sensible, buttoned-up genius, Dave the reckless foil, simplifying a far messier reality and veering into myth-making.

Danny Horn plays Ray Davies as an introspective, guarded figure, a musical obsessive whose inwardness is most fully explored through his relationship with Rasa, played with warmth by Lisa Wright. By contrast, the rest of the band are drawn more broadly. Oliver Hoare’s Dave Davies is louche, volatile and impulsive, embodying the excesses of a sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle. Harry Curley brings a steady presence to Pete Quaife, though the character remains lightly sketched. Zakarie Stokes’ Mick Avory barely registers in the first act, and his extended drum solo at the start of Act Two feels more like compensation than character development.

Edward Hall’s direction is strongest when focusing on the band’s formation and search for a distinctive sound within the emerging 1960s music scene. The opening contrast between a tuxedoed, doo-be-dooing crooner and the raw energy of The Ravens (their early incarnation) is knowingly artificial but theatrically effective, clearly signalling the shift from the 1950s into the Swinging Sixties.

The narrative moves from the breakthrough of You Really Got Me through mounting domestic pressures for Ray and Rasa to the ill-fated US tour that led to a four-year ban. Back in Britain, Ray confronts depression and legal battles, while also mounting a determined creative resurgence.

The music is integrated in two ways: some songs operate in a musical theatre mode, articulating emotion or narrative shifts, including Dedicated Follower of Fashion as the band get their makeover and Rasa’s aching I Go to Sleep as she struggles alone with a newborn while Ray tours. Elsewhere, songs emerge through writing, rehearsing and recording, with the slow assembly of Waterloo Sunset carrying real anticipation.

There is an emphasis on the tension between creativity and commerce. The system itself becomes the antagonist, embodied by Grenville Collins and Robert Wace, played with affable ineptitude by Tam Williams and Joseph Richardson, and Larry Page (Alasdair Craig), forever doing his best as the grasping intermediary. Eddie Kassner, given a harder edge by Ben Caplan, emerges as the closest thing to a villain, emphasising how the band’s artistic ambition was constantly challenged by financial exploitation. The Moneygoround lands especially well here, naming names and exposing the machinery behind the scenes.

Miriam Buether’s striking three-sided wooden set, stacked with speakers, adapts fluidly to studios, homes and stages, with stars and stripes unfurled during the US tour. Costumes chart the band’s evolution from matching suits to greater individuality. The cast play their own instruments, supported by a small onstage band, lending credibility to the performance scenes.

The second act does run long. The drum solo and a cluster of melancholic moments between Ray and Rasa extend emotional beats that have already landed. As a jukebox musical, Sunny Afternoon occasionally struggles to reconcile musical theatre convention with the sharper edge of The Kinks’ songwriting.

Still, there is real pleasure here. Ray Davies wrote some extraordinary songs, witty, observant and socially alert, even if the show only partially explores that sharpness. Uneven and occasionally self-mythologising, Sunny Afternoon remains an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off.

SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th December 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Manuel Harlan

SUNNY AFTERNOON

★★★★★

“allows us into a world that may be unfamiliar, and makes space for connection, truth, and healing”

Faygele is a powerful and moving theatrical piece written by Shimmy Braun and directed with sensitivity by Hannah Chissick. It’s a work that gives voice to those so often left unheard – particularly queer individuals navigating faith, family, and identity.

From the opening moment, the production draws you in with a cleverly designed stage (David Shields) where the actors not only perform, but move the set around them, symbolising the constant shifting of roles and expectations. At the centre of the story is Ari Freed, a young gay man growing up in an Orthodox Jewish family. Ilan Galkoff plays Ari with honesty and vulnerability, instantly capturing the audience’s attention. His portrayal offers a deeply personal look into what it means to grow up queer in a religious world that doesn’t always have space for difference.

Clara Francis brings complexity to the role of Mrs. Freed, Ari’s mother. She is caught between her love for her son and her desire to keep the family together in a community that clings to tradition. Her performance reflects the silent emotional labour so many mothers endure when trying to bridge impossible gaps. Ben Caplan, as Dr. Freed – the father – gives a gripping performance as a man torn between faith, pride, and fear. His internal conflict is portrayed with intensity, especially as he wrestles with the idea that his son’s identity could bring shanda (disgrace) upon the family.

A standout performance also comes from Andrew Paul as Rabbi Lev, who is perhaps the most quietly revolutionary character. Instead of condemning, he listens. He reflects. He questions. Through his character, the play asks whether faith can grow, evolve, and hold space for queerness without losing its roots. His attempt to guide the family with compassion rather than judgment adds a hopeful thread to the story.

What makes Faygele so impactful is its ability to speak across identities. You don’t need to be Jewish to feel the emotional weight of tradition, nor do you need to be LGBTQ+ to understand what it means to be silenced, othered, or misunderstood. The play confronts difficult topics homosexuality, mental health, and generational trauma with courage and care. Words like “suicide” and “shame” are not hidden here, they’re spoken, embodied, and honoured in a way that invites dialogue rather than silence.

In a time when we often talk about inclusivity but struggle to practise it, Faygele does something rare: it listens deeply. It allows us into a world that may be unfamiliar, and makes space for connection, truth, and healing. For anyone interested in queer stories, Jewish representation, or simply great theatre, Faygele is more than a play, it’s a must see.

Tag Archives: Ben Caplan

SUNNY AFTERNOON

★★★½

UK Tour

SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton

★★★½

“an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off”

SUNNY AFTERNOON