LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“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.

LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd October 2025

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

Previously reviewed at Soho Theatre venues:

BOG WITCH | ★★★½ | October 2025

MY ENGLISH PERSIAN KITCHEN | ★★★★ | October 2025

ENGLISH KINGS KILLING FOREIGNERS | ★★★½ | September 2025

REALLY GOOD EXPOSURE | ★★★★ | September 2025

JUSTIN VIVIAN BOND: SEX WITH STRANGERS | ★★★★★ | July 2025

ALEX KEALY: THE FEAR | ★★★★ | June 2025

KIERAN HODGSON: VOICE OF AMERICA | ★★★★★ | June 2025

HOUSE OF LIFE | ★★★★★ | May 2025

JORDAN GRAY: IS THAT A C*CK IN YOUR POCKET, OR ARE YOU JUST HERE TO KILL ME? | ★★★★★ | May 2025

WHAT IF THEY ATE THE BABY? | ★★★★★ | March 2025

LITTLE BROTHER

★½

“there are moments of wit …”

“If these are our heroes, what does that make us?” This is the central conceit posed throughout Odysseus, Not Your Hero, an irreverent retelling of selected episodes from the Greek epic. Odysseus, the so-called hero of Homer’s tale, finds his famous journey home after the Trojan War reframed through a decidedly modern — and frequently mocking — lens.

Irreverent it certainly is. At one point, the narrator gleefully describes all previous English translations of the epic being thrown into a coffin and urinated on, as if to suggest this interpretation is the definitive one. Unfortunately, it never quite earns that boldness, and the question it poses never lands with the weight the writing seems to demand.

Created by Cyborphic, a science-fiction and Greek theatre company, and staged as part of the Lambeth Fringe, this interpretation — written, directed and performed by Christos Callow Jr. as Odysseus — sets out to showcase the hero’s less admirable exploits. Poseidon (taken on by Anastasia Thiras, who also multi-roles throughout) condemns him to a gauntlet of challenges, from preparing a meal for a cannibalistic cyclops to resisting the siren call of influencer-style temptresses. As you might expect, there is no shortage of reinvention and absurdity along the way.

The prize for success? His safe return to Ithaca. Aided by Nausicaa (Kat Kourbeti), reimagined not as the pining lover of myth but as a curious fusion of AI and Star Trek–style holodeck, Odysseus is judged through each of Poseidon’s trials. Kourbeti plays the role of scorekeeper with deliberate indifference, her detached performance aligning with the production’s mocking tone. Part Brechtian farce, part chaotic sketch, the story leaps from game to game, peppered with audience participation that asks us to judge the man not by his legend but by his actions.

Ultimately, this is not the Odysseus you might remember from school textbooks. Rather than the cunning tactician whose guile and wit were known throughout the land, this Odysseus emerges arrogant, ignorant, and easily distracted — his reputation for brilliance built on shaky ground.

That failure to live up to expectation unfortunately also extends to the rest of the production. While there are flashes of humour in the script, some of the dialogue feels stilted, and the performances lack the polish required to elevate the concept. Characters come across as one-note, and this is largely undermined by the frequent fourth-wall breaks which, while raising some laughs from the audience, ultimately undercut any chance of tension or momentum, leaving a production that rarely shifts into a higher gear.

Rarely, but not never: the play briefly finds its footing in the moments when Poseidon and Odysseus engage the audience, cast as the hero’s weary crew desperate to return home to Ithaca. These interactions bring the room to life and reveal the performers at their most comfortable, playing off spectators rather than each other.

Set, costume and lighting are economical — unsurprising in a fringe production — while a light score fills gaps as costumes are changed onstage. Poseidon’s fishing vest and cap neatly suggest a man of the sea, while Odysseus’ T-shirt, complete with a sketched-on six-pack, leaves the audience to imagine the resplendent armour he might otherwise wear.

Though there are moments of wit and occasional audience engagement, ultimately the faltering execution prevents the show from finding a clear identity. And while Odysseus, Not Your Hero suggests a bold re-evaluation of hero worship and the famous voyage home, in the words of the Bard, it’s all Greek to me.

Tag Archives: Dan O’Connor

LITTLE BROTHER

★★★★

Soho Theatre

LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic”