OSCAR AT THE CROWN

The Crown

★★★★★

“unapologetically camp, laced with sassy self-awareness perfectly in sync with a subversive core”

Lock Oscar Wilde, Mad Max, Six, and Starlight Express in a bathroom together, and what comes out? ‘Oscar at The Crown’ of course! A glitter bomb of beats, belting and reckless abandon, this spectacular show turned club night is a sparkling celebration of self-acceptance and queer culture.

Beneath the ruins of a broken world lives a band of survivors, banished before fascism ended it all. But Oscar and his technicolour troupe are thriving in exile, finally free to be themselves. What better way to sustain a new civilisation than bingeing the only media to survive with it – early 2000s TV and the complete works of Oscar Wilde. In fact, the troupe’s nightly performance of an Oscar Wilde musical is about to start – when a sudden bang on the bunker door shatters their peace and potentially some hearts. What starts as a riotous rave ends with raw reflection – a messy end to their beautiful beginning.

Mark Mauriello’s book delivers stinging social critique, flamboyant figures and inner angst, even if it doesn’t quite match Wilde’s poeticism or satirical subtlety. Though the plot is thin, there is power in revealing a more honest and broken man than Oscar ever dared to be. With some choice quotes underscoring key moments, I find the overall effect moving, emphasising how fragile our sense of self can be. Then there’s the ‘messy ending’ – abrupt, perhaps, but brutally honest. It exposes the bunker’s safety for the sham it is and challenges us all to embrace life’s chaos.

Shira Milikowsky’s direction is full of infectious energy, the cast commanding the stage with gusto and charisma. It’s unapologetically camp, laced with sassy self-awareness perfectly in sync with a subversive core. There are clever devices, such as Oscar and love-interest Bosie flirting via predictive text, disembodied voices carrying their passionate exchange across the crowded dancefloor. The cast also fire off snappy quips under their breath, heightening the immersion and keeping the energy continuously crackling.

Andrew Barret Cox’s music and lyrics are an absolute highlight. Club banger follows club banger, and even when we hit a ballad or two, they suit the moment perfectly. My personal favourite is the cheeky ode to Julie Cooper (toxic step-mom from ‘The OC’, obviously), as infectious as whatever ended the world must have been. Though Dan Samson’s sound design, which follows the actors around the space, means I can’t always decipher the words – not that this detracts from the insane belting delivering them.

Barret Cox’s choreography is a flurry of precisely executed kicking, popping and voguing – an absolute feast for the eyes. Andrew Exeter’s set, venue and lighting design creates an underground club with a strong dystopian edge, 1984-esque CCTV tracking your every move (and helpfully those of the actors), back-alley graffiti everywhere, and plastic strip curtains evoking an abattoir. The lighting is insane, flicking from unobtrusive to dramatic (the side spot illuminating half of Constance’s face, emphasising her dislocation), to jokey (the flashbulb pops punctuating Oscar’s snappy poses), to exuberant (the rippling rainbows Oscar summons on a whim). It’s perfectly complemented by the costumes, hair and make-up, drawing on timely styles like punk, S&M, and even Starlight Express.

The true highlight, however, is the cast – *clap* STUN *clap* NING. Jan Sport’s Oscar is brash, bold and yet oh-so broken. Jan channels Oscar’s tangled brilliance with such conviction, there’s not a flicker of doubt in her portrayal. The perfect example is during the heartfelt climax, where I catch a solitary Jan weeping in such anguish I have to look away. The ensemble is such high quality, it’s a disservice to single individuals out. Suffice to say, everyone absolutely slays.

‘Oscar at The Crown’ might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I guarantee it develops a cult following, just like Julie Cooper. Heartrendingly raw and breathtakingly executed, sashay your way to The Crown and catch it while you can!

OSCAR AT THE CROWN

The Crown

Reviewed on 19th September 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Danny Kaan

Previously reviewed by Hannah:

THE SHOP FOR MORTALS AND ALL FOOLS | ★★★★ | COLAB TOWER | September 2025

BROWN GIRL NOISE | ★★★½ | RIVERSIDE STUDIOS | September 2025

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS | ★★★ | FINBOROUGH THEATRE | September 2025

COW | DEER | ★★★★★ | ROYAL COURT | September 2025

SEAGULL: TRUE STORY | ★★★★★ | MARYLEBONE THEATRE | September 2025

SWAG AGE | ★★★★ | GILLIAN LYNNE THEATRE | September 2025

HERE AND NOW | ★★★★ | MANCHESTER OPERA HOUSE | September 2025

EMERALD STORM | ★★★★ | EMERALD THEATRE | September 2025

THE PITCHFORK DISNEY | ★★★★★ | KING’S HEAD THEATRE | September 2025

INTERVIEW | ★★★ | RIVERSIDE STUDIOS | August 2025

OSCAR AT THE CROWN

★★★★★

“this camp, fairy-tale romp of a show is going to be the best hour and fifteen of our day”

A cloud drifts across the stage. Six tall columns stand proud, with a scattering of shorter ones—Doric and Ionic, naturally—not a Corinthian in sight. The cloud becomes a marvellous projection surface, alive with images that reveal the inner thoughts and inner musings of this gloriously queer fantasia.

We begin with Beyoncé’s 2022 triumph—her Renaissance, the album that changed everything. And then, we’re told, this show is about the other Renaissance. Of course.

Cue art history gags—the sort of jokes that send art historians into delighted squeals. Like how everyone “hates” Raphael (not true, of course, but who doesn’t enjoy taking potshots at the popular girls?). Our guides are the gay ghosts of the Italian Renaissance, and instantly we know: this camp, fairy-tale romp of a show is going to be the best hour and fifteen of our day.

Enter the brothers: Michelangelo and Leonardo. Yes, those guys—but here they are flaming, fabulous, and gloriously, unapologetically gay. Gay in both the homosexual sense and the whimsical, theatrical sense. Yet, in their time, love like theirs was forbidden. Cue a parade of songs so cheeky you can’t help but grin: mischievous “truths” such as the Mona Lisa being nothing more than a cute boyfriend in drag. When asked about new student orientation, the cast cracks: “heterosexual.” The show revels in falsification, camp exaggeration, and rewriting history with fabulous flair. And yes—there is a great Pope. Of course there is.

The scenic world of this piece is a clever use of tall and short columns, which shift and support the ever-morphing scenes. Michelangelo discovers a chisel, conjures the Pietà, finds a twenty-year-old block of marble, and miraculously liberates David from the stone. But in this work, what’s truly freed from the marble is love itself.

The message is simple, yet profound: we are all brothers, sisters, siblings, lovers, or none of the above, if we are aromantic, and that is okay, too. Whether we fall in love, never love, love differently, or love not at all, every expression—or non-expression—of love is vital. That is the rainbow light bathing the white columns. For it is not the pillars that hold this world aloft, but acceptance, love, and—let’s face it—talent.

There are moments when we must cry, “Pop off, Michelangelo!”

Moments when we must sculpt the seemingly unsculptable.

Moments when we ourselves must be freed from the rock—or pried away from the orgy.

And there are moments when chapels of acceptance are built not from stone, but from art and theatre. For theatre has always done this: told whimsical, joyful stories that whisper—no, sing—to the world: it doesn’t matter what you are, or who you are. You are special. Especially if you are Marisa Tomei.

The cast is outstanding: Max Eade (Michelangelo), Aidan MacColl (Leonardo da Vinci), Michael Marouli (Pope), Laura Sillett (Savonarola), Kurrand Khand (Salai), Aoife Haakenson (Mother), and Sev Keoshgerian (Italian Chef).

The creatives are equally dazzling:

Dylan Marcaurele (Book, Music and Lyrics), Sundeep Saini (Choreographer & Intimacy Director), Emily Bestow (Costume Designer), Adam King (Lighting Designer), Joe McNeice, Emily Bestow & PJ McEvoy (Set Design), Joe McNeice (Director).

So don’t be a Pick-Me Girl. Pick this. Let it erase the homophobia of the past and remind us that love is only ever love. For love does not separate us—it connects us. Or, at the very least, gets us through “ten years of art therapy.”

Tag Archives: Danny Kaan

OSCAR AT THE CROWN

★★★★★

The Crown

OSCAR AT THE CROWN

The Crown

★★★★★

“unapologetically camp, laced with sassy self-awareness perfectly in sync with a subversive core”