★★★★

“Renner’s script flows beautifully even though it meanders madly”

Most people, at some point in their life, have had an imaginary friend. Being shy isn’t necessarily a prerequisite for this, but it often goes hand in hand. It is liberating, like talking to a pet. One can be candid, loquacious and fearlessly honest – traits that might elude us when plunged into social situations. Not many of us, however, have switched this idea on its head. What is it actually like to be that imaginary friend? Well, the answer lies in Isabel Renner’s raunchy one-woman show, “Wyld Woman: The Legend of Shy Girl”. Renner has a theatre full of fantasy companions, and it is an absolute joy to be in their company.

Renner is the eponymous ‘shy girl’, on the cusp of throwing her first house party. She is unnamed, but we are all given tags to write our own names on as we take our seats. Some of us are seated at a table onstage, with paper cups and plates – doubtlessly pilfered from a child’s birthday party. Lucy Fowler’s realistic, studio apartment set is dominated by shades of pastel pink, offset by the optimistic glamour of silver balloons. Into this setting, ‘Shy Girl’ shuffles, hunched under the weight of her anxiety. Fidgety and nervous, and somewhat geeky – in a pared down, Emo Philips kind of way. But don’t be fooled. She may be cripplingly inhibited, but Renner herself doesn’t shy away from giving a captivating and assured performance. One that takes some unexpected turns, especially when she adopts other characters. Don’t take your maiden aunt to this show – the language is quite graphic and explicit. She’s pretty forthright, particularly when describing her first fumbling forays into foreplay. By now she has stripped down to a ludicrously Paris-themed, spangly leotard while confessing to still being a vegan “sorry… a virgin – I get them mixed up!”.

Renner’s script flows beautifully even though it meanders madly. And just as polished is Renner’s ability to switch into other characters. We meet her insufferable flatmate, Memphis; we witness her confrontations with her restaurant boss, Patrice, who would give Miranda Priestley a run for her money. Her work-mate and first-date, Pino, is hilariously and satirically portrayed (reminder – keep your maiden aunt away), as is Twilight, her sex therapist; and a leering Rock Star; and finally a gorgeous imitation of a precocious six year old – who happens to be Shy Girl’s unwitting life coach, analyst and confidante rolled into one. Each orbital character is outrageous, yet authentic and comically observed.

As Shy Girl, she is suitably self-deprecating, but beneath the outlandish humour there are layers of vulnerability. ‘You are so quiet it is hard to connect with you’ is a comment repeatedly aimed at her. The ‘cool guys’ (she calls them ‘legends’) that she invites to her party don’t show up. She has to make do with us – her imaginary friends. The relationship she builds is real and organic, and probably different from night to night, but Renner adapts with ease to the situation. It is an intimate experience that gets to the heart as well as our funny bones. While we are laughing loudly, we are quietly uncovering truths within ourselves.

Cameron King’s sharp direction makes good use of the furniture, taking advantage of Renner’s suppleness as she stretches across the table, mounts the fridge or changes an imaginary light bulb. Each movement is a cue for a joke. And each joke, a cue for something else unexpected. Renner knows that shyness is no joke, but by turning it into comedy it makes us receptive to the reality. But enough of the psychobabble, just go along for the party. She’ll be absolutely thrilled you turned up. And so will you.

FOREVERLAND at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“a gorgeously heartfelt and intimate story”

Most of us have a gut reaction to the question ‘Would you like to live forever?’ But once it subsides, we discover that it is impossible to answer. The quandary is as old as life itself: nobody wants to die, but nobody wants to live forever either.

The recent progress in genetic research has allowed scientists to discover ways of slowing down the ageing process. Without trying to go into detail (and thereby revealing the extent of my ignorance) it has something to do with cellular reprogramming and altering molecules that turn DNA on and off. A bit like restarting a computer. It works on worms. And mice. This is science fact. Enabling humans to live forever may still be science fiction, but only for about another decade, according to Emma Hemingford’s stylish and imaginative new play “Foreverland”.

There is the danger that tackling such a subject can lead to a rather dull essay involving the characters discussing abstract concepts. But Hemingford avoids all the potential clichés and truisms, and instead weaves the complexities and conundrums into a gorgeously heartfelt and intimate story. One that centres on a romantic relationship that is instantly recognisable and relatable.

Jay (Christopher York) and Alice (Emma McDonald) are a couple in their thirties, about to embark on treatment to prolong their lives – perhaps indefinitely. It is a fairly risk-free surgical procedure, but pre-op nerves are kicking in. The treatment is irreversible. But there is a ‘get out’ clause later down the line. Both York and McDonald capture this essence perfectly in the opening scene, with humour and poignancy. Aided by Valerie Antwi’s deliciously cool and mockingly sympathetic Doctor Lane, we get a clear insight into the bonds, and the cracks, in their marriage; along with subtle, almost invisible, hints as to how the drama might unfold.

Director Frederick Wienand guides the play’s characters through specific leaps in time with effortless artistry. We fast forward a few years in a matter of seconds; scene changes flashing before us indicated by the performers’ evolving mannerisms and inflections, like the rapidly moving hands of the clock. Except in Jay and Alice’s world, the pressure of the clock has gone. The performances are captivating as the couple navigate their journey towards immortality. Is it idyllic or terrifying? In their own way, York and McDonald explore what having unlimited time does to them psychologically. Jay and Alice soon have a daughter (the wonderfully natural and dynamic Emily Butler), who soon grows up into the radical adult who questions her parent’s choices (Una Byrne). What does the promise of unlimited time mean for the world; socially, ethically, and politically? Byrne’s fiery influence not only shakes up the onstage characters, but it urges us all to take stock and consider our own views.

“Foreverland” can be seen as a parable for our time. One that goes far deeper than the ‘be-careful-what-you-wish-for’ résumé. We suddenly find ourselves in uncomfortable territory. Immortality, it seems, is only for the privileged. Progress only happens when people die. Big topics, but the writing condenses them into human emotions and domestic quibbles that resonate on a personal level. Not every emotion rings true, and there are a couple of moments when we are not sure what informs their decisions, but the performances remain powerful – right through to the heart-wrenching final scene. The silence that hovers above the audience reflects the stillness of the closing dialogue. Like the pause before the next heartbeat. There is one final choice to make.

Part fairy-tale, part docudrama, part sci-fi, part kitchen-sink, part love story, part comedy, part dystopia; but fully engaging, gripping, intelligent and funny. A fresh and intriguing take on one of mankind’s oldest obsessions. You might think you have all the time in the world, but don’t leave it too long to see this show.

WYLD WOMAN: THE LEGEND OF SHY GIRL

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“Renner’s script flows beautifully even though it meanders madly”

WYLD WOMAN: THE LEGEND OF SHY GIRL

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 24th October 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Charlie Lyne

Previously reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

WYLD WOMAN

WYLD WOMAN

WYLD WOMAN

FOREVERLAND at Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“a gorgeously heartfelt and intimate story”