★★★

“an ambitious piece with a killer concept”

A tiled backdrop and a stainless steel table set the mortuary scene, the lone hammer hinting at the menace to come. The Grim promises to blend impish slapstick comedy with clinical chill — horror and humour, light and dark, gangsters and sweeties — but while it sets plenty in motion, it never fully commits to what’s lurking in the dark.

Set in a 1960s East End mortuary, the play follows proprietor Shaun (Edmund Morris, who also wrote the script) and his assistant Robert (Louis Davison) as they await the arrival of notorious gangster and serial killer Jackie Gallagher (Harry Carter), recently gunned down. As they wait, strange things begin to stir, and the pair soon find themselves at the centre of their own ghost story.

What follows is truly a play of two halves. Morris’ script fires out gags and slapstick at an impressive rate, though the sheer volume sometimes leaves you wanting more texture. Their double act — pairing Shaun’s cynicism with Robert’s belief in religion and the occult — makes for an intriguing dynamic, and there are moments that hint at their respective histories. These glimpses, however, are never fully explored, quickly sidelined for another volley of barbs between the bickering pair.

Ben Woodhall’s direction keeps the energy buoyant, though a few moments feel hurried when they might have benefitted from being held — especially given the play’s flirtation with horror. His pacing leans toward the comic, but this often undercuts the tension the production seems keen to build.

The result is a comedy-heavy first act that rarely pauses long enough to let tension breathe, so the horror beats that do appear arrive abruptly, without the slow creep that might have given them more power. Lighting by Joe Hawkings and sound by Fergus Carver do their best to conjure unease, sharpening sudden shocks and adding atmosphere to Hiba Medina’s well-designed set, but while the potential for dread is there, it never quite settles over the room.

Then an interval comes with surprising abruptness, halting the momentum just as the play begins to shift gear. It’s with the arrival of Jackie Gallagher that the production truly stirs to life — quite literally. The jokes are pared back ever so slightly and better balanced by the new threat onstage. Carter is excellent: his physicality dominates the small space, prowling with a palpable sense of danger while still gesturing toward unexpected emotional depth. It’s a stand-out performance that hints of a richer, stranger play struggling to get out.

Elsewhere, certain character choices feel loosely justified, functioning more as devices to move the plot than as organic developments. The final stretch lands quickly and somewhat bluntly, leaving questions about what the piece ultimately wants to say or how its supernatural thread is meant to sit alongside its crime-comedy roots.

Ultimately, The Grim is an ambitious piece with a killer concept that doesn’t always deliver on its promise. Morris’ script shows signs of a fine writer — there are sharp lines and spirited performances throughout — but light without shadow can be one-note, and for too long the production never quite embraces the darkness it keeps hinting at. The result is fairly enjoyable, often funny, but a few shades short of the chilling comedy it seems to be reaching for. Those looking for jokes more than jolts may find enough to enjoy, but the shadows never fully gather to make this a ghost story you’ll want to return to.

LOOP

Theatre503

★★★★

“full of sharp storytelling, strong physical comedy and quickfire characterisation”

Upon entering Theatre503, you’re first confronted by the smell of soil. On stage: torn sections of soiled mattress, slabs of broken tile, decaying brickwork and dead reeds leaning like ghosts in the dingy corners. A solitary wooden throne sits amid the wreckage. It’s oppressive, grotty and unexpectedly intricate for such a small black-box space — a patchwork ruin that establishes Loop as a story rooted in one woman’s mental decay, liminality and obsession.

Written and performed by Tanya-Loretta Dee, Loop follows Bex, a balloon-animal-twisting party-shop employee whose world is quietly collapsing around her. She falls for a customer, James, a sweater-vested man in tortoiseshell glasses with secrets of his own. Though Bex initially insists he isn’t her type, their connection quickly slips into a tale of longing, fantasy and fixation.

The beats of the story are familiar — the intoxicating rush, the near-inevitable disappointment and the growing volatility of a relationship built in hotel rooms, toilets and other spaces not quite fit for life — but Dee’s telling never feels stale. Bex’s tale is consistently funny, full of sharp storytelling, strong physical comedy and quickfire characterisation. And as the second half darkens, you’ll catch your breath and wonder just how far down the rabbit hole the protagonist you’ve been rooting for might go.

Dee’s performance is the anchor of the play’s success, holding you from the outset with a raw earnestness as she charts Bex’s friction, longing, delusion and descent without ever losing our sympathy. Adorned in a near-bridal white dress that gradually soils with the dirt and muck around her, she shifts effortlessly between predator and prey; her eyes widen with naivety before reeling you back with a knowing wink. You root for her even in her worst moments.

If there is a criticism, it’s that the familiarity of the overall “men being bastards” storyline occasionally leaves you wishing the script had waded deeper into the murk it hints at. Generational patterns of trauma, Bex’s childhood and the roots of her compulsions are all touched upon but left somewhat submerged — though perhaps, as in life, those cycles resist neat explanation, and there is no single clear-cut reason she becomes the way she is.

Sophie Ellerby’s direction is superb, making clever use of the dismantled mattresses, balloons and even the dirt itself to bring the story to life. Bex constantly rearranges the set, shifting objects to form beds, barriers and thresholds, each movement reflecting the instability of her inner world. Cheng Keng’s lighting design tightens around her like a noose, building tension through stark isolations and sharp use of colour, while projected text messages heighten her distress.

Still, the overall effect is striking. For a venue of this size, the production achieves an impressive sense of scale and texture. The set (Mydd Pharo), with its mix of stone, tile and exposed brick, feels almost like a psychological excavation site.

While the narrative runs a little predictably — a woman falling for, and ultimately enduring, the carelessness of a man — the production distinguishes itself through the precision of its execution and the clarity of its voice. It ends with something close to a “they all lived happily ever after” flourish, though a final barb reminds us how easily these patterns can repeat. Even the audience groaned at the dawning realisation that Bex may not be completely out of the woods yet.

As Tanya-Loretta Dee’s debut full-length play, Loop confirms that her future as both writer and performer is exceptionally promising. It may not reinvent its genre, but it delivers a funny, tense and compelling descent into obsession — told with confidence, imagination and a design team working at the top of their game.

THE GRIM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★

“an ambitious piece with a killer concept”

THE GRIM

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 27th November 2025

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Molly Jackson-French

Previously reviewed at Southwark Playhouse venues:

THE GRIM

THE GRIM

THE GRIM

LOOP

Theatre503

★★★★

“full of sharp storytelling, strong physical comedy and quickfire characterisation”

LOOP

Theatre503

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Zoë Birkbeck

Previously reviewed at this venue:

Loop

Loop

Loop

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