Tag Archives: Ben Jacobs

CABLE STREET

★★½

Marylebone Theatre

CABLE STREET

Marylebone Theatre

★★½

“an important story with a compelling core and an impressive cast”

After two sold out 2024 runs, ‘Cable Street’ marches back into London. Based on the Battle of Cable Street, where ordinary people stood up to antisemitism and fascism, this musical offers a timely take on community but never quite finds its rhythm.

October 1936. Fascism is rising across Europe. Oswald Mosley’s antisemitic British Union of Fascists (BUF) plans to march through London’s Jewish East End. East Enders amass in their thousands in protest, reaching boiling point at Cable Street. The crowds roar “¡No pasarán!” (“They shall not pass”) – but can they hold the line, and at what cost?

Reworked since its 2024 productions, ‘Cable Street’ has a strong core but muddled execution. Alex Kanefsky’s book distils events into three quintessentially East End perspectives – Jewish, Irish and working class British. Kanefsky sharply captures how the increasingly disenfranchised, working class Ron is drawn in by the BUF, and how anger pushes Jewish Sammy to the brink of murder, offering a clear-eyed look at human complexity. Each period of unrest cleverly shifts the communities from resistance to rupture to resolve, emphasising the message of strength through solidarity.

Other elements land less well. The wider narrative feels scattered and superficial, juggling multiple families, supporting characters, conflicts and even centuries. The shared flat scenes grow more engaging as the families interweave, but never quite land on what binds them. Even central character arcs feel loose: the Sammy-Mairead romance (briefly a triangle with Ron) fizzles out by Act 2; and Ron’s unravelling feels underdeveloped. The present day frame – opening without a strong hook, fading out in Act 2, and ending on an underwhelming note – fades alongside the far richer 1930s thread.

Adam Lenson’s direction, with associate Hetty Hodgson‍, sharpens Sammy and Ron’s inner struggles and adds real weight to the mothers’ perspectives. However, there are some puzzling choices: the Hamilton style Act 1 button feels overfamiliar, the candy coloured BUF number is tonally confusing, the Times sandwich board feels cartoonish, and the leaflet based ‘violent resistance’ feels unintentionally ironic. Several sections feel static, with sparse and sometimes simple choreography from Jevan Howard Jones‍ which makes Sammy’s fluid street dance feel a little incongruous.

Tim Gilvin’s score, supervised by Tamara Saringer and directed by Dan Glover with Bianca Fung assisting, taps into the 1930s East End’s multicultural soundscape, blending Irish folk, Klezmer, Jewish liturgy and Caribbean influences. However, it’s also crammed with contemporary styles, such as R&B, drum and bass, and a big dose of rap for Sammy, which don’t always gel. Furthermore, genres change abruptly mid song – sometimes more than once – and don’t always align with dramatic tone. However, ‘Only Words’ and ‘Stranger/Sister’ are beautiful stand out songs. The band (Elizabeth Boyce, Robyn Brown, Joel Mulley, Max Alexander-Taylor) delivers a richness that belies their small size.

Yoav Segal’s set design is striking, with the bleak, raw exterior softening into the families’ homes. Sam Waddington and Ben Jacobs’ lighting leans into these contrasts with some strikingly dramatic moments, though others could be further developed. Charlie Smith and associate Mike Woods’ sound design is initially a little imbalanced but settles. The use of effects in high stakes moments is slick and impactful. Lu Herbert’s costumes feature slick transitions between present day and 1936, and similarities between the three families reinforce the sense they’re not so different after all.

The ensemble cast is superb. Isaac Gryn is outstanding as Sammy, oozing raw emotion and irresistible charisma, with commanding vocals and assured movement. Barney Wilkinson charts Ron’s radicalisation with striking authenticity and a stunning belt. Preeya Kalidas’ Edie and Elizabeth steal the show, pairing rich, soaring vocals with gritty, raw emotion. Jez Unwin shapeshifts effortlessly between multiple characters — sometimes within seconds — delivering ‘No Words’ with richness and emotional heft. Romona Lewis Malley gives Rosa’s supporting role real dimension and sings with impeccable precision.

‘Cable Street’ tells an important story with a compelling core and an impressive cast. However, several elements need refining for the production to land with the weight it deserves.



CABLE STREET

Marylebone Theatre

Reviewed on 26th January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Johan Persson

 

 

 

CABLE STREET

CABLE STREET

CABLE STREET

A GHOST IN YOUR EAR

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

A GHOST IN YOUR EAR

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“a taut fusion of gothic storytelling and modern innovation”

Ever wanted to experience gothic horror at point blank range? Jamie Armitage blends spine chilling storytelling with binaural sound to conjure ‘A Ghost In Your Ear’. Part stagecraft, part technological innovation, this thrilling production delivers a mesmerising and uniquely unsettling experience – though it’s not for the faint hearted!

George, an actor between jobs, thinks he’s lucked out when friend Sid offers him a lucrative audiobook gig. But the late-night recording session isn’t all it seems. Step into the booth if you dare.

Jamie Armitage’s second play, with dramaturgical support from Gurnesha Bola, marks a confident stride into horror, charged with tension and gothic atmosphere throughout. Though it leans on familiar tropes (a lone male protagonist, creaking mansion, supernatural presences and lingering misfortunes), its clever use of a story-within-a-story lets our imaginations do the real scaring before an arresting final jolt ensures you’re haunted all the way home. Combining this with Ben and Max Ringham’s binaural sound is a real triumph: every whisper, breath and shudder lands with unnerving clarity, creating an intimate, visceral experience that brings the ghosts uncomfortably close. You could argue the binaural design isn’t as audacious as Darkfield’s freakier experiments, but it’s still strikingly effective.

Armitage’s extensive directing credits with movement consultancy by Robert Strange show we’re in assured hands. Flickering red lights, unnerving black mirror and creepy headphone voice build suspense before the show even starts. Once we get going, the tension is expertly calibrated, simmering through subtle shifts in tone, light and sound. Punchy jump scares draw real screams before well-timed cuts release the tension, the swift resets proving almost as impressive as the scares. The only slight misstep is Sid’s climactic reveal, which lands with less oomph and urgency than expected and briefly breaks the spell.

The Ringhams’ binaural sound design, with associate designer Matt Russell, truly elevates the piece. The music and ambient textures coil the atmosphere like a spring; an unsettlingly intimate soundscape then emerges through the brush of beard, a trembling sob, a racing heartbeat. If anything, the ghostly interjections feel a little sparing and a touch more wouldn’t go amiss. Setting the binaural mics within a grey sculpted head is inspired, signalling the audience’s unacknowledged presence and giving a subtle, eerie glimpse of what’s to come.

Anisha Fields’ set and costume design shape the mood with precision. The suitably oppressive recording studio becomes a pressure chamber for the unfolding action. Two way mirrors create visual illusions and allow Sid’s reassuring presence to vanish at crucial moments. The audience also sits behind glass, deepening the disquieting atmosphere.

Ben Jacobs’ lighting design is a masterclass in deceptive simplicity; what initially seems stripped back reveals intricacy and real subtlety. An almost imperceptible dimming during George’s extended monologues signals our descent into the supernatural, and contrasts strikingly with dramatic flashes, jump scares, and even total darkness at the climax.

This pacy two hander relies on George’s extended monologues to drive the narrative, and George Blagden rises to the challenge with remarkable intensity. Blagden is deeply expressive, gliding from everyday ease to unravelled desperation with disarming fluidity, amplified by sinuous physicality and a rich, versatile voice. Jonathan Livingstone’s jocular Sid provides much needed reassurance and relief, while carefully guarding the darker layers of his story, proving an engaging, assured and impeccably timed counterpart.

‘A Ghost In Your Ear’ is a taut fusion of gothic storytelling and modern innovation, leaving audiences gasping and ominously on edge. Though it may not be for everyone, the binaural sound design creates a genuinely immersive experience which is absolutely worth seeking out.



A GHOST IN YOUR EAR

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 8th January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Marc Brenner


 

 

 

 

A GHOST IN YOUR EAR

A GHOST IN YOUR EAR

A GHOST IN YOUR EAR