LITTLE M

The Place

★★★½

“with refinement, this heartfelt script has potential to really soar”

Have you ever felt out of place, not knowing why? ‘Little M’ lovingly transforms Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ into a tender celebration of gender-diverse identities. Aimed at children but with something for everyone, this production is touching, beautiful, and deeply affirming. While there’s room for refinement, it deserves to be seen by everyone – just like Little M.

Caught between worlds, Little M is different. When a suitcase of shimmering human gowns drifts into the grotto, M delights in how wearing them makes them feel – until Grandmother swiftly confiscates everything. Grandmother urges M to focus on their impending coming-of-age ceremony. Excited to finally receive their oyster shells, M longs to place them on their tail like their sister, not their throat as is custom. Once again, Grandmother insists on conforming. When the big day arrives, celebration quickly becomes discomfort as M’s oyster necklace feels suffocating. In a moment of courage, M flees for the human world, starting a journey of self-discovery that leads them to their truth.

Luke Skilbeck (writer and co-director) and Anders Duckworth (co-director) adapt Hans Christian Andersen’s classic tale, using the mermaid’s liminal existence as a poignant metaphor for gender-diverse experience. With sensitivity and soul, the story affirms gender-diverse lives as natural and beautiful. It explores profound themes with striking emotional clarity for a children’s show. The ending is a compelling reminder of why stories like this are still so important, offering hope and belonging to those who need it most.

However, not everything lands. The mix of on- and offstage voices, while conceptually bold, sometimes disrupts pacing. Mid-conversation shifts between dialogue and dance feel a little disjointed in places. The beachcombing crab is amusing but underdeveloped. A couple of plot points lack clarity, such as M’s first encounter with the Prince and the delayed significance of the multicolour chokers. Still, with refinement, this heartfelt script has potential to really soar.

Duckworth’s choreography blends mime with a range of dance styles, including Indian classical, ballet and contemporary, to craft a rich, expressive narrative. The child-friendly emphasis on accessible movement is balanced by moments of subtlety. A standout moment is the inventive two-person witch, lending the character an eerie, otherworldly presence. Still, some moments – like two somewhat static swimming sequences – would benefit from more dynamic choreography to really elevate the piece.

Nicole Raymond and NikNak’s composition and sound design drive the emotional landscape, elevating the choreography with precision and flair. Their score moves fluidly between rhythmic drive and atmospheric subtlety, using music and ambient soundscapes to shift the energy and deepen the storytelling.

Dancers Jose Funnell, Áine Reynolds, Naissa Bjørn, and Tylee Jones bring vivid characterisation to the stage, highlighting their versatility across styles and emotional registers. Their expressive performances make each character feel fully realised and relatable, though a touch more precision, such as finishing the lines, would sharpen the overall impact.

E. M. Parry’s design – supported by set design associate Kit Hinchliffe, costume associate Eve Oakley, and puppet co-designer Scamp Niemz – is out of this world. The rich and imaginative visual world conjures sea and shore with striking simplicity. Staging, costumes, puppets, props, and set feel meticulously crafted yet effortlessly fluid. Repurposed sea debris evokes the ocean with texture and authenticity while gesturing cleverly to the climate crisis, finding unexpected beauty in the most mundane objects. Carey Chomsoonthorn’s lighting design is stunning, conjuring land and sea with beauty. Whether illuminating the serenity of the shoreline or the characters’ inner turmoil, the lighting adds depth and texture with remarkable sensitivity. The overall design effect is magical.

‘Little M’ is an imaginative, emotionally resonant piece inviting audiences of all ages to engage with complex themes. While there’s room for refinement, its spirit sings, honest and undeniable. This is bold, beautiful, and necessary theatre, and I’m excited to see how it grows.

LITTLE M

The Place

Reviewed on 24th October 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

Previously reviewed at this venue:

JAZZ CONVERSATIONS | ★★★★★ | September 2024

LITTLE M

★★★★

“McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic”

Opening Soho Theatre’s New Theatre season, Little Brother is a darkly comic portrait of two siblings bound by love, guilt, and the impossible weight of care. In a country where stories of the NHS’s decline feel almost routine, writer Eoin McAndrew turns that familiar crisis inward, exploring how systemic failure plays out in the intimate space between those who are sick and those who must keep them alive.

The story centres on Niall, a young man in recovery following an act of self-immolation, and his older sister Brigid, drafted into the exhausting role of carer with little idea where to start. Their relationship, unfolding over the course of Niall’s recovery, forms the beating heart of the play — fraught, funny, and unbearably tender.

McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic, capturing both the absurdity and the agony of navigating a system that can feel more bureaucratic than humane. Some of the play’s most affecting moments lie in its portrayal of how dehumanising treatment can be: Niall is told how desperately he needs help, only to learn there’s a twelve-month waiting list; he’s restricted from watching films that involve fire; and his sister is cautioned more about her language than given guidance on how to support him. McAndrew mines these absurdities for both laughs and quiet despair. It’s a bleak world, but never a joyless one.

At times, the script veers into overt commentary on the state of the NHS, moments where the play briefly preaches what it otherwise shows so effectively, but it mostly remains grounded in the human cost: the fumbling attempts of two damaged people trying, and often failing, to understand each other.

Cormac McAlinden and Catherine Rees anchor the production beautifully as Niall and Brigid, bringing real warmth and volatility to their scenes as siblings who love one another but are often at the end of their tether. McAlinden’s fragile charm makes Niall easy to root for even at his most self-sabotaging, while Rees captures Brigid’s fatigue and frustration without ever losing her compassion. Supporting player Laura Dos Santos makes the most of a smaller role, while Conor O’Donnell is a genuine scene-stealer as Brigid’s awkward on-again, off-again boyfriend, Michael Doran — his emotionally stunted banter providing some of the biggest laughs of the night. The costume design (Ellen Rey De Castro) complements his performance perfectly, adding further humour through a few playful, telling choices.

Emma Jordan’s direction keeps everything grounded, allowing the dark comedy to land without undercutting its emotional truth. Her restraint pays off in the more shocking moments, which feel all the more authentic for their understatement.

The ambitious set design (Zoë Hurwitz) cleverly divides the stage into four distinct rooms — each stark and bleak, yet shaped differently to create a cross-section of domestic life. Jordan uses this to her advantage, making scenes feel claustrophobic one moment and open the next. The cold blues and fluorescent strip lighting (Bethany Gupwell) provide a constant reminder of the sterile hospital world that haunts, but rarely helps, Niall’s recovery. All of this is underpinned by a largely effective sound design (Katie Richardson), which underscores key transitions with a low, menacing pulse, subtly heightening the sense of urgency as the play hurtles toward its finale.

A compelling production, Little Brother is a darkly comic study of care and co-dependence — as funny as it is quietly devastating. McAndrew, Jordan and their cast craft a portrait of sibling love tested by mental health and the buckling state apparatus that can no longer support it, delivering a play that feels both painfully current and profoundly human.

Tag Archives: Camilla Greenwell

LITTLE M

★★★½

The Place

LITTLE M

The Place

★★★½

“with refinement, this heartfelt script has potential to really soar”