Tag Archives: Daniel Rainford

TOP GS LIKE ME

★★★

Royal and Derngate Theatre

TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

★★★

“a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised”

Masculinity is under threat… or is it? When algorithms decide what you see and hear, it’s easy to miss when you’ve slipped off the deep end. A sharp tale from Northamptonshire writer Samson Hawkins, ‘Top Gs Like Me’ delivers pointed lessons – even if it feels pitched at younger audiences.

Eighteen-year-old Aidan feels stuck – stacking shelves, sick mum, no dad. Meanwhile best friend Mia’s about to leave for uni with her rich new boyfriend. With no aspirations and little support, he retreats into the internet. And when slick, sharp talking ‘Hugo Bang’ pops up promising answers, he clicks… again and again. What follows is a stark look at how easily the internet can drag someone under, sometimes with horrifying consequences.

Northamptonshire local Samson Hawkins’ second full length play, with dramaturgy by Lauren Mooney, is a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised. It tackles big topics – disenfranchised youth, the ‘manosphere’, consent – in a way that’s instantly relatable and shows how fast a lonely scroll can turn dark. However, it’s not exactly subtle, with some hard landing points, on the nose dialogue, and a couple of developments lacking setup. Aidan’s hopeful final choice is followed by a rather dark coda – an important if bleak warning. Overall, it feels pitched at younger viewers – though judging by the enthusiastic teens behind me, it works.

Royal & Derngate Artistic Director Jesse Jones, with associate Kitty Benford and movement director Monica Nicolaides, chart Aidan’s slide with real clarity, escalating from casual clicks to a brain full of Bang. Their climactic fused voices and mirrored movements are absolutely gripping. Though the opening drags a little, shifting from a long music sequence into an equally long TikTok montage before Aidan’s first line. The sprawling skate park set, with audiences on both sides, is stunning though the scale and frequent side-on scenes feel more observational than immersive. The twenty-five strong student chorus is an ambitious flourish: their TikToks and multiplying Hugo Bangs are striking, though the group dances add less and aren’t always cleanly delivered. Gemma Boaden’s local accents ground the piece, but Aidan’s muffled diction and the echoey acoustic mean some lines get lost.

Rebecca Brower’s design swings big, turning the auditorium into a full-size skate park with moving platforms and built in lighting – an impressive feat. It looks fantastic, though the action can feel a little distant. Benjamin Grant’s sound design shines in places, especially the opening sequence of inside to outside headphone audio that shows how cut off Aidan already is. The wider soundscape of TikTok hits, tense underscoring and sharp effects complements the action well, but the volume swamps a few lines and the dialogue often echoes. Rory Beaton’s lighting is bold: hidden LED strips flare an angry red wherever Bang lurks, spreading as Aidan sinks deeper, while bursts of colour punctuate key lines before blending into more naturalistic moments. Brower’s costumes are spot on: Hugo’s sharp red suit over a white vest nails the slick on top, sinister underneath vibe, while Aidan’s baggier, dirtier imitation is so feeble it’s almost sympathetic.

The cast is fab. Danny Hatchard’s Hugo Bang steals the show with suave charisma that slowly reveals something far more sinister, culminating in a goosebump inducing climax. Daniel Rainford’s Aidan shows real vulnerability before spiralling out – a strong performance even if a few lines get lost. Fanta Barrie’s Mia offers a grounded counterpoint, supporting Aidan with believable frustration, though her energy plateaus slightly in the final scene. Emily Coates’ Grace deftly plays someone performing a version of herself, navigating the character’s ethical knots with nuance. Finn Samuels’ Charlie balances well meaning warmth with oblivious privilege. David Schaal’s Dave brings a world weary humanity and much needed voice of reason. The Internet Ensemble adds real spark with vibrant TikToks and energetic, if slightly loose, dancing.

‘Top Gs Like Me’ is a heavy hitting but important watch, packed with crucial lessons for younger audiences. Though aimed at a younger crowd, you too may find Bang’s pull hard to resist.



TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

Reviewed on 28th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

LAUGHING BOY

★★★

Jermyn Street Theatre

LAUGHING BOY at Jermyn Street Theatre

★★★

“Whilst moving, the piece lacks dramatic elements and at times feels more like a lecture more than a theatrical work”

Laughing Boy is a piece of Political Protest Theatre, which is theatre that arises from injustice and makes it clear it is protesting against it. It tells the true story of Connor or ‘LB’, a learning disabled young man with epilepsy who died as a result of negligence and systemic faults in his care in 2013. His family campaigned and gave testimony as part of a lengthy legal battle. Written and Directed by Stephen Urwin, Laughing Boy is an adaptation of Sara Ryan’s book ‘Justice for Laughing Boy’. The play uses video projection (Matt Powell) to display real reports and quotes from the legal case along with family footage .

Connor’s story is told by his family, primarily his mother Sara (Janie Dee), an Oxford academic who delivers details of Connor’s death and the parties involved with fury and wit. Her love for Connor burns through the play as she unapologetically rips into the architects of the family’s tragedy. In supporting roles are husband and father Rich (Forbes Masson), brothers Owen (Lee Braithwaite), Will, (Charlie Ives), Tom (Daniel Rainford) and sister (Molly Osborne). Connor (Alfie Friedman) sits expectantly, asking his mother what happened to him as his family chip in to parody the various uncaring faces. The cast portray a loving family who undergo gaslighting, victim-blaming and bureaucracy in the search of answers. We fall in love with Connor and as the family affectionately discuss him. I found myself thinking of the countless people and their families in my life who rely on services that failed Connor and felt their pain.

 

 

As far as stories go, Laughing Boy is a nightmare of devasting grief brought to life. It is told with the factual precision of an Oxford academic with tweets, reports and blog posts dissecting the events and circumstances of Connor’s death. As compelling as the story is, narratively it is anti-climactic and leans into telling us what happened instead of showing. It is mainly from Sara’s perspective despite Connor and other family remaining on stage throughout. Sara explains her actions, including how the online campaign negatively affected the court case, leaving no room for any conjecture or doubt. Nurses, social workers, support staff, defence lawyers and headteachers are painted as bleak, sarcastic and one-dimensional by the supporting cast, with some humour injected in their caricatured portrayal. At points it felt like a Panorama documentary interspersed with heart-breaking input from Connor as he questions where he is from beyond the grave. The play itself is referenced, as Sara remarks at how far the campaign has come.

The set (Simon Higlett) is simple and plain; four wooden chairs and a white curved cyclorama, evoking the austere environment of Slade House and also allowing the stage to be used for detailed projections . The use of the cast reflects this simplicity, miming props and setting, always returning to the base of family as they comfort each other in between impersonating other characters. Whilst moving, the piece lacks dramatic elements and at times feels more like a lecture more than a theatrical work. It serves its purpose at being informative and celebrating Connor as well as the success of the family’s campaign for justice. Laughing Boy calls to action on behalf of all who suffer as a result of underfunded disability services.

 


LAUGHING BOY at Jermyn Street Theatre

Reviewed on 1st May 2024

by Jessica Potts

Photography by Alex Brenner

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE LONELY LONDONERS | ★★★★ | March 2024
TWO ROUNDS | ★★★ | February 2024
THE BEAUTIFUL FUTURE IS COMING | ★★★★ | January 2024
OWNERS | ★★★½ | October 2023
INFAMOUS | ★★★★ | September 2023
SPIRAL | ★★ | August 2023
FARM HALL | ★★★★ | March 2023
LOVE ALL | ★★★★ | September 2022
CANCELLING SOCRATES | ★★★★ | June 2022
ORLANDO | ★★★★ | May 2022

LAUGHING BOY

LAUGHING BOY

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