★★★★

“a highly watchable cast, delivering line after line of snappy dialogue”

Katherine Moar’s “Ragdoll” is inspired by the trial of Patty Hearst – the heiress turned actress, kidnapped by the Symbionese Liberation Army in the 1970s who was later convicted of working with them and being charged for armed robbery. Her defence lawyer, Francis Lee Bailey, lost the case despite putting forward the fact that she was coerced into it by her captors. Although the names have been changed, there is little to separate the fictional characters from the real-life ones (even the SLA is namedropped). So ‘inspired by’ is probably an understatement. The disguise is a very thin veil. There is no disguising at all, however, the sharpness of Moar’s writing in her thoughtful, thought-provoking, ingeniously structured and punchy new play.

The narrative is split between two pivotal points in the lives of our protagonists. In the late seventies, Holly (Katie Matsell) is awaiting trial for her role in the armed robberies. Her hotshot lawyer, Robert (Ben Lamb) sees it as a case to project his career into the major league. There is a lot of media attention, some of it unwanted and unwarranted. Robert has his own distractions, too, mainly in the shape of a hack journalist out to smear his name. We first meet the couple in the present day. They are estranged by now, but Robert (Nathaniel Parker) is calling in a favour from Holly (Abigail Cruttenden), hoping she can bear witness to his character and help clear him of allegations of an ‘inappropriate nature’. Holly is naturally resentful – having been ghosted and abandoned by Robert decades earlier. We are aghast at Robert’s confidence that borders on arrogance. Tensions and stakes are high, and emotions rise even higher, tempered by moments during which Moar leads us gently into ‘odd-couple’ comedy territory.

We never drift into familiar territory, however. Even if sometimes we think we might be heading that way. Whenever that happens, Moar repeatedly sticks the knife in with a twist, forcing us to look at things in a different way. The two time periods are separated, until further twists reveal how great and significant the overlap is between past and present. A fascinating dramatic device is at play here, which the cast pull off masterfully.

The characters are undoubtedly privileged but are played with a compassion that arouses our sympathy. Matsell’s nervous idealism as the younger Holly turns into the fury and resignation that Cruttenden portrays with a bubbling, volcanic strength. Lamb, as the rising star of the courtroom, hasn’t yet had his smooth confidence worn away by the knocks to his career, while Parker’s present-day Robert, however, clings onto this self-conviction by a thread. They are both victims in a way. Victims of changing times and attitudes as much as circumstance. “If I had died, people would like me more” quips Holly in retrospect, thankfully without sentimentality. Josh Seymour directs with a tight hand on the oscillating structure: the actors watching their other selves, engaging and reacting. Ceci Calf’s simple set, strewn with packing cases, is dominated by an expensive, cream leather sofa, rich in symbolism.

This is only Moar’s second play, but the dialogue has a veteran’s finely-honed shrewdness and insight, offering peep holes into social history as well as the human condition. Its context is specific, but the questions raised are far reaching. With a highly watchable cast, delivering line after line of snappy dialogue, “Ragdoll” is an absolute joy to watch. We barely have time to think about what we are supposed to be thinking about – there’s time to do that on the tube journey home. We know, though, that we have been in the presence of a writing talent to keep an eye out for.

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

The first thing you notice about the new musical, “Stiletto”, is the opulence of Ceci Calf’s set. Dimly lit in the pre-show, it depicts not so much a Venetian palazzo but something more subterranean. You almost expect ripples of light, cast from the canal waters, to dapple from above. It is moody, portentous and atmospheric. The musical itself follows suit. Consistently soul-stirring, grandiose and lush, it looks and sounds exceptional. A balcony circles the stage behind its proscenium arch, like a minstrel’s gallery. In the shadows we can make out the silhouettes of the fifteen-piece orchestra. A cast of seventeen grace the stage, yet Chris Baldock’s musical staging never makes it appear crowded. From the opening dramatic bars of music, we know we are in for something grand. There is a danger that the show might take itself too seriously. A feeling, however, which soon dissipates under David Gilmore’s pacey and fresh direction.

We are in Venice in the early part of the eighteenth century. Marco Borroni (Jack Chambers) is on the cusp of stardom. He is a ‘castrato’, which means he was castrated before puberty to preserve his soprano voice. Apparently, the process not only keeps the vocals skills intact, but it also in no way diminishes his pleasure-giving prowess – as his siren-like patron, the Contessa Azurra (Kelly Hampson), seductively points out. Meanwhile Marco meets feisty Gioia (Jewelle Hutchinson), a slave’s daughter, in the market square. His lust is turned into sheer wonder when he hears her sing, and he vows to sweep her up from the gutter into his own impending rise to fame and fortune. Of course, there are snags. In this case an accidental death, an ensuing scapegoat bound for the hangman’s noose (i.e. Gioia – that’s no spoiler by the way), a corrupt judicial system, and the predictable battle between good and bad – the underdog and the powerful. Tim Luscombe’s book follows a formulaic narrative, but there is a quirkiness and modernism to the dialogue, much of which swings effortlessly in time to the musical preludes.

The plot may be a touch thin, but Matthew Wilder’s score is as ripe and succulent as they come. Wilder generously gives each major character a solo moment in the spotlight, but he also allows the full ensemble to shine throughout. This could almost be a sung-through musical and often has that feel – the underscore subtly echoing the songs. Simon Nathan’s orchestrations highlight the variations; from a quiet harp-accompanied ballad through to the full pageantry of sweeping ensemble numbers. There are many musical highlights and just as many performance highlights. Chambers, as Marco, has a natural flair, mixing innocence with passion, carnality with self-righteousness. And a voice to match – particularly when standing alone, closing the first act with a gorgeously delivered ‘The Wanting’, or lamenting the tragic figure of his tutor Faustino (a rich-toned Greg Barnett). Jennie Jacobs stands in as a masked mezzo soprano whenever Marco is called upon to demonstrate the ‘castrato’ voice. Kelly Hampson’s Contessa Azurra is a force to be reckoned with, standing up to her corrupt yet camp husband, Pietro (a wonderful Douglas Hansell). Hampson’s solo number, ‘Amore Mio’ has a bond-theme quality, but with more interesting time signatures and shifts in tone.

There are surprises, too. When Connor Wood, as the mute Niccolo, finds his voice at a crucial moment in the story we are quite taken aback by his singing voice during ‘No Words’; and Sam Barrett’s down-trodden Luigi blossoms as he turns saviour and vocal raconteur extraordinaire with his solo number ‘Go Along’. But the one to watch out for is Jewelle Hutchinson, stealing the show whenever she walks on stage as Gioia. Spirited and ballsy (ironic given her paramour’s deficiency in that department), Hutchinson lets Gioia’s vulnerability cut through as well. And all the while her rich, wide-ranged vocals pierce our hearts.

The performances bring a heightened energy to the stage that befits the setting and the storyline. Cementing the sense of period are Anna Kelsey’s glorious and flamboyant costumes. Passion is the key word for this show. And drama. Sometimes melodrama slips in which, if you’re not paying attention, can hide the flaws in the narrative. It does feel as though a trick or two is missed, and certain themes are underexplored while the finale comes a little too quickly and too forced. That frustration aside, this is a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstrings. Full of light and shade, musically as well as visually, it might not penetrate quite as deeply or cleanly as a stiletto, but it certainly gets under your skin.

RAGDOLL

Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★★

“a highly watchable cast, delivering line after line of snappy dialogue”

RAGDOLL

Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 14th October 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Alex Brenner

Previously reviewed at this venue:

RAGDOLL

RAGDOLL

RAGDOLL

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STILETTO

STILETTO

STILETTO

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