Tag Archives: Chris Warner

A CHRISTMAS CAROL – AS TOLD BY JACOB MARLEY (DECEASED)

★★★★★

Upstairs at the Gatehouse

A CHRISTMAS CAROL – AS TOLD BY JACOB MARLEY (DECEASED)

Upstairs at the Gatehouse

★★★★★

“Each transformation is sharp and specific—a tilt of the head, a shift in posture, a complete recalibration of voice and energy”

In a bare room with nothing but a battered chair and the weight of eternal regret, James Hyland transforms Dickens’ most famous ghost story into a searing solo confessional. This stripped-back A Christmas Carol reveals the bones of the tale—and they rattle magnificently.

Jacob Marley doesn’t haunt quietly. From the moment he materialises in his dusty, ragged costume (designed by Nicki Martin-Harper)—chains conspicuously absent but implied in every weighted gesture—he commands the Gatehouse’s intimate space with ferocious energy. This is a spirit condemned not to silence but to tell his story, over and over. Hyland makes us feel the compulsion burning through every word.

The minimalist staging proves inspired. One chair. One actor. One chance at redemption through storytelling. Without elaborate Victorian trappings or special effects, we’re forced to confront the raw humanity in Dickens’ prose—and this adaptation wisely draws directly from the original text, preserving that magnificent language while reshaping it into Marley’s desperate monologue. When Hyland speaks Dickens’ words, they don’t feel like quotation but like fresh anguish. Sound and composition (Chris Warner) provides an eery atmosphere.

The physical performance is extraordinary. Hyland shifts seamlessly between Marley’s anguished narration and embodiments of Scrooge, the spirits, Tiny Tim, and a parade of characters from his former partner’s life. Each transformation is sharp and specific—a tilt of the head, a shift in posture, a complete recalibration of voice and energy. The single chair becomes bed, counting house, gravestone, whatever the story demands, as Hyland’s virtuosic performance fills every corner of the space. This is all the more astonishing as Hyland is the actor, adapter, director and producer. This is truly a one-man show. 

What makes this production particularly powerful is its psychological insight. By making Marley our guide, this adaptation asks us to consider not just Scrooge’s redemption but whether a ghost can find peace through bearing witness. Hyland plays this tension beautifully, showing us a spirit who is simultaneously beyond help and desperately hoping that telling the story might somehow lighten his chains.

The pacing never flags across the seventy-five minutes. Hyland modulates between driving urgency and haunting stillness, between bitter comedy and genuine pathos. His vocal control is remarkable—Dickens’ ornate sentences tumble out with clarity and purpose, never feeling declamatory or over-rehearsed.

In an era of spectacular stage effects and elaborate Christmas productions, this Carol dares to offer just one brilliant actor, Dickens’ luminous language, and a story that needs nothing more. It’s an utterly thrilling demonstration of what theatre can achieve with talent, text, and trust.



A CHRISTMAS CAROL – AS TOLD BY JACOB MARLEY (DECEASED)

Upstairs at the Gatehouse

Reviewed on 15th December 2025

by Elizabeth Botsford


 

 

 

 

A CHRISTMAS

A CHRISTMAS

A CHRISTMAS

Paper Cut

Paper Cut

★★½

Park Theatre

PAPER CUT at the Park Theatre

★★½

Paper Cut

“Excepting the performances, everything feels a bit “debut”, despite the creative team’s impressive programme credits”

 

Kyle has spent his whole life desperate to be in the army. Idolising his father who was a soldier, he’s sacrificed the possibility of love, both romantic and familial, to ensure his military future. When he meets Chuck while serving in Afghanistan, he starts to wonder if he can have both. But after stepping on an IED, his hopes are upended.

Paper Cut by Andrew Rosendorf poses some important questions about masculinity, family loyalty, and love. The idea that gay men should have had to hide their sexual orientation in order to serve is rightly highlighted as bizarre and destructive, and the idea, too, that romantic love requires sex is called in to question.

Kyle’s relationship with his twin brother Jack is a brilliant example of unconditional love, of caring for someone even after they’ve betrayed you for their own ends. Joe Bollard as Jack is warm and awkward, laughs and tears coming as easily as each other, and he’s a brilliant counterpart to his overly intense brother.

Prince Kundai, who plays love interest Chuck, is charismatic and lovable. Entirely comfortable in his own skin, and endearingly sincere, it’s easy to see how he and Kyle might slip from friends to lovers.

Tobie Donovan, playing Harry, another love interest, is sweet and ridiculous. He’s got great comic timing and even gets a few laughs where I’m not sure there was supposed to be one.

While the plot itself is gritty and melancholy, the script feels a little too sentimental, relying on clichés and long…meaningful…pauses. Callum Mardy (Kyle) seems to get the bulk of these staring-off-in-the-distance speeches about the meaning of serving your country and so forth, and it overrides the genuine tragedy of his story, with him coming off a little ridiculous.

The script’s final lines, for example, completely diminish the fervent conversation that preceded them, as Kyle and Chuck look out at the sunset: “If you could go back and change anything, would you?”/ “So much.” The end. It’s just a bit lazy. And it’s a shame because in Mardy’s moments of levity, irony and even anger, he shows his capabilities, but he’s let down by the script’s sap.

Sorcha Corcoran’s design, a simple wooden backwall with a row of inbuilt storage chests, works fine, serving its practical purpose of hiding props and keeping the stage clean. That is, until the penultimate scene when before, in the cover of dark, the stage is scattered with gold confetti. This all comes to make sense when the final scene takes place on the beach, but less so when we’re in Jack’s apartment. Why not just wait a minute, and scatter the confetti directly before the beach scene? Or, given how minimalist the rest of the set is, why do it at all?

Lucia Sanchez Roldan’s lighting design is inoffensive: Strip lights hang from the ceiling, changing colours throughout. It doesn’t seem to have much to do with the story though, and seems a bit “designy” for the sake of it.

Excepting the performances, everything feels a bit “debut”, despite the creative team’s impressive programme credits. That said, there’s plenty to work with, and nothing a bit of red ink couldn’t fix.

 

Reviewed on 12th June 2023

by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Stefan Hanegraaf

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

Leaves of Glass | ★★★★ | May 2023
The Beach House | ★★★ | February 2023
Winner’s Curse | ★★★★ | February 2023
The Elephant Song | ★★★★ | January 2023
Rumpelstiltskin | ★★★★★ | December 2022
Wickies | ★★★ | December 2022
Pickle | ★★★ | November 2022
A Single Man | ★★★★ | October 2022
Monster | ★★★★★ | August 2022
The End of the Night | ★★ | May 2022

 

 

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