★★★

“If you enjoy theatre with a sting in the tail, this revival of ‘The Truth About Blayds’ delivers”

Every family has secrets. But what if yours is so explosive it could derail a national institution? ‘The Truth About Blayds’ explores the collision of power and principles, exposing the dangers of idolising money and fame. Despite its sharp execution and timely themes, it may feel a little tone-deaf to contemporary tastes.

One of A. A. Milne’s early plays (yes, that A. A. Milne), ‘The Truth About Blayds’ is set in the 1920s and opens on the 90th birthday of literary titan, Oliver Blayds. Blayds is lauded alongside Wordsworth and Tennyson, and devoted literary critic, A. L. Royce, is invited to give a special address in his honour. However, Royce’s reverence is met with cynicism from Blayds’ grandchildren Oliver and Septima, resentful devotion from Blayds’ youngest daughter Isobel, and self-interested pragmatism from Blayds’ eldest daughter Marion and her husband William. When a shattering revelation threatens to rip everything away, will the family do the right thing? Or will the burden of legacy sway their moral compasses?

Produced by Andrew Maunder and Neil McPherson for the Finborough Theatre, this production embodies the theatre’s mission to revive plays untouched for over 25 years. Written by A. A. Milne (of ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’ fame), the text captures a web of tension between characters with wit and mischief: Oliver’s cynicism cuts through Royce’s blind adoration; Isobel’s saint-like self-sacrifice clashes with William and Marion’s scheming; William patronises Marion despite adopting her surname. Furthermore, Milne cleverly reveals that Blayds’ isn’t the only façade: every character is hiding something. You could argue it’s the perfect play to revive in a post-truth world. However, revivals risk failing to resonate with modern audiences, and this is no exception. Recent power-abuse scandals have rocked the nation, and the story of a rich white man’s unchecked privilege sits rather uncomfortably in their wake.

David Gilmore’s direction speaks volumes through silence, with reactions slicing as sharply as the witty prose. There are some bold directional choices. Septima’s final plea to the family is delivered with her back to the audience, introducing ambiguity to her intentions. Isobel breaks the fourth wall with her final line, forcing the audience to confront the family’s decision.

The performances are sharp and controlled, though perhaps a little too buttoned-up at points. George Rowlands’ razor-sharp timing means Oliver’s acid wit steals every scene. William Gaunt’s Blayds infuses a lifetime of experience into his surprisingly fleeting performance, steeped in reminiscence before revealing his quiet dread. Catherine Cusack shows appropriate restraint but I couldn’t help wanting to see Isobel unravel.

Alex Marker’s stage design captures Victorian maximalism, appearing both opulent and sterile. The deceptively simple lighting (Jonathan Simpson) sets the scene with the backlit sash windows of a London townhouse, and a soft spot subtly illuminating Blayds’ omnipotent portrait. The costumes (Carla Joy Evans) span Victorian, Edwardian and flapper eras, emphasising inter-generational divides. Scene changes set to Strauss’ waltzes contrast flowing beauty with scheming pettiness, reinforcing façade over fact.

If you enjoy theatre with a sting in the tail, this revival of ‘The Truth About Blayds’ delivers. It may not have aged that gracefully and the delivery can feel a touch polite, but there’s no shortage of wit, warmth, and scandal to keep the evening entertaining.

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

The first thing you notice about the new musical, “Stiletto”, is the opulence of Ceci Calf’s set. Dimly lit in the pre-show, it depicts not so much a Venetian palazzo but something more subterranean. You almost expect ripples of light, cast from the canal waters, to dapple from above. It is moody, portentous and atmospheric. The musical itself follows suit. Consistently soul-stirring, grandiose and lush, it looks and sounds exceptional. A balcony circles the stage behind its proscenium arch, like a minstrel’s gallery. In the shadows we can make out the silhouettes of the fifteen-piece orchestra. A cast of seventeen grace the stage, yet Chris Baldock’s musical staging never makes it appear crowded. From the opening dramatic bars of music, we know we are in for something grand. There is a danger that the show might take itself too seriously. A feeling, however, which soon dissipates under David Gilmore’s pacey and fresh direction.

We are in Venice in the early part of the eighteenth century. Marco Borroni (Jack Chambers) is on the cusp of stardom. He is a ‘castrato’, which means he was castrated before puberty to preserve his soprano voice. Apparently, the process not only keeps the vocals skills intact, but it also in no way diminishes his pleasure-giving prowess – as his siren-like patron, the Contessa Azurra (Kelly Hampson), seductively points out. Meanwhile Marco meets feisty Gioia (Jewelle Hutchinson), a slave’s daughter, in the market square. His lust is turned into sheer wonder when he hears her sing, and he vows to sweep her up from the gutter into his own impending rise to fame and fortune. Of course, there are snags. In this case an accidental death, an ensuing scapegoat bound for the hangman’s noose (i.e. Gioia – that’s no spoiler by the way), a corrupt judicial system, and the predictable battle between good and bad – the underdog and the powerful. Tim Luscombe’s book follows a formulaic narrative, but there is a quirkiness and modernism to the dialogue, much of which swings effortlessly in time to the musical preludes.

The plot may be a touch thin, but Matthew Wilder’s score is as ripe and succulent as they come. Wilder generously gives each major character a solo moment in the spotlight, but he also allows the full ensemble to shine throughout. This could almost be a sung-through musical and often has that feel – the underscore subtly echoing the songs. Simon Nathan’s orchestrations highlight the variations; from a quiet harp-accompanied ballad through to the full pageantry of sweeping ensemble numbers. There are many musical highlights and just as many performance highlights. Chambers, as Marco, has a natural flair, mixing innocence with passion, carnality with self-righteousness. And a voice to match – particularly when standing alone, closing the first act with a gorgeously delivered ‘The Wanting’, or lamenting the tragic figure of his tutor Faustino (a rich-toned Greg Barnett). Jennie Jacobs stands in as a masked mezzo soprano whenever Marco is called upon to demonstrate the ‘castrato’ voice. Kelly Hampson’s Contessa Azurra is a force to be reckoned with, standing up to her corrupt yet camp husband, Pietro (a wonderful Douglas Hansell). Hampson’s solo number, ‘Amore Mio’ has a bond-theme quality, but with more interesting time signatures and shifts in tone.

There are surprises, too. When Connor Wood, as the mute Niccolo, finds his voice at a crucial moment in the story we are quite taken aback by his singing voice during ‘No Words’; and Sam Barrett’s down-trodden Luigi blossoms as he turns saviour and vocal raconteur extraordinaire with his solo number ‘Go Along’. But the one to watch out for is Jewelle Hutchinson, stealing the show whenever she walks on stage as Gioia. Spirited and ballsy (ironic given her paramour’s deficiency in that department), Hutchinson lets Gioia’s vulnerability cut through as well. And all the while her rich, wide-ranged vocals pierce our hearts.

The performances bring a heightened energy to the stage that befits the setting and the storyline. Cementing the sense of period are Anna Kelsey’s glorious and flamboyant costumes. Passion is the key word for this show. And drama. Sometimes melodrama slips in which, if you’re not paying attention, can hide the flaws in the narrative. It does feel as though a trick or two is missed, and certain themes are underexplored while the finale comes a little too quickly and too forced. That frustration aside, this is a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstrings. Full of light and shade, musically as well as visually, it might not penetrate quite as deeply or cleanly as a stiletto, but it certainly gets under your skin.

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS

Finborough Theatre

★★★

“If you enjoy theatre with a sting in the tail, this revival of ‘The Truth About Blayds’ delivers”

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS

Finborough Theatre

Reviewed on 13th September 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Carla Joy Evans

Previously reviewed at this venue:

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS

THE TRUTH ABOUT BLAYDS

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

★★★★

“a luscious musical that intrigues and teases with, rather than pulls, our heartstring”

STILETTO

Charing Cross Theatre

Reviewed on 31st March 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Johan Persson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

STILETTO

STILETTO

STILETTO

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