Tag Archives: ELIZABETH BOTSFORD

A THING OF BEAUTY

★★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye”

A Thing of Beauty confronts head-on a discomfiting question: should artistic brilliance be allowed to exist independently of moral responsibility? Writers Wendy Oberman and Jonathan Lewis have created a gripping drama in which ambition and manipulation battle truth and integrity, and the audience is caught squarely in the firing line.

Set in October 1972, the play imagines an in-depth BBC interview with Leni Riefenstahl. She was a highly-accomplished German filmmaker during the Nazi period. Her revolutionary techniques inspired George Lucas and Steven Spielberg, yet her legacy was permanently over-shadowed by her service to Nazi ideology.

Imogen Stubbs is magnetic in her portrayal of a woman whose charm, vanity and self-justification coexist in uneasy balance. Referring to herself in the third person throughout, Leni simultaneously elevates her achievements and distances herself from the uncomfortable truth they represent. It is hard to feel much sympathy, despite her protestations about a difficult childhood and an all-consuming creative drive. That she achieved such creative dominance within a regime that prescribed domesticity for women adds a further uncomfortable layer, one the play leaves the audience to sit with.

Tony Bell is a convincing Harry, the BBC interviewer who must maintain professional focus whilst simultaneously confronting his own demons. He is, by turns, vulnerable to Leni’s considerable charms and fiercely critical of her motives. The interview becomes an electric psychological duel: intimate, taut and genuinely unsettling.

The ensemble of Tony Boncza, Harry Bradley, Thomas Craig, Sophie McMahon and Harry Rundle provide a compelling dramatic frame; their on-stage presence as waiting crew members sharpens the sense that everyone here has something to conceal. The production’s most pointed observation is that Leni is far from alone in placing ambition (dressed up as art) above everything else.

Juliette Demoulin’s spare set is stripped back to essentials, letting the verbal exchanges carry full weight. Mark Dymock’s lighting shifts with quiet precision between the clinical and the conspiratorial, while Simon Slater’s understated sound design steadily deepens the creeping unease. Director Jonathan Lewis, who also co-wrote the piece, keeps pacing taut throughout, resisting the temptation to over-signpost the ethical questions and allowing their implications to surface with admirable restraint.

That restraint is ultimately the production’s defining strength. A Thing of Beauty refuses to pass judgement, leaving instead a residue of discomfort that invites reflection on where one has turned a blind eye, sidestepped the truth or been complicit. Produced by Denise Silvey for Cahoots Theatre Company, this assured world premiere offers no comfort, only the unsettling recognition that history’s most beautiful images may conceal its most troubling truths.



A THING OF BEAUTY

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 26th February 2026

by Elizabeth Botsford

Photography by Matt Hunter


 

 

 

 

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY

A THING OF BEAUTY

IOLANTHE

★★★★★

Wilton’s Music Hall

IOLANTHE

Wilton’s Music Hall

★★★★★

“there is something profoundly restorative about surrendering to such unashamed silliness”

What fun! Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirical masterpiece has lost none of its bite. Charles Court Opera’s glorious revival of Iolanthe at Wilton’s Music Hall proves that lampooning the House of Lords as a collection of mediocre chancers is as fresh, accurate and necessary today as it was in 1882. This is a triumph. It is riotously funny, musically accomplished, and politically sharp.

The plot concerns Strephon (Matthew Palmer), a half-fairy parliamentary groundsman in love with Phyllis (Llio Evans), a ward of Chancery. When the Lord Chancellor (Matthew Kellett) and the entire House of Peers also fall for Phyllis, the fairies intervene with chaotic results. The absurdity is the point, putting the lie to the establishment’s pomposity. Gilbert’s libretto skewers the sheer ridiculousness of hereditary power with a precision that remains devastatingly accurate. By contrast, the moving tenderness of the love songs, both between the romantic couple and between mother and son, shows what Gilbert and Sullivan considered important. The costumes, designed by Molly Fraser, could walk straight from the Wilton’s stage into the Lords’ chamber today.

John Savournin’s direction, revived by James Hurley, balances comedy with genuine warmth, whilst David Eaton’s musical direction draws sparkling performances from the Charles Court Opera Chamber Orchestra. The standout musical performances come from George Ireland on keyboard and Tim Taylorson on flute. They deliver Sullivan’s score, from the ethereal fairy music to the bombastic march of the peers, with both precision and joy.

The cast is uniformly excellent, but the standout performance comes from Catrine Kirkman as Lady Mountararat. In a clever gender-flip of the traditionally male role, Kirkman delivers a magnificent creation somewhere between Margaret Thatcher and Lady Hale: all imperious authority, withering disdain, and immaculate comic timing. Matthew Kellett as the Lord Chancellor delivers a tour de force of patter and pathos in his “Nightmare Song”. Eleanor O’Driscoll is a touching Iolanthe and Meriel Cunningham commands the stage as the Fairy Queen with regal authority.

Molly Fraser’s costume and set design beautifully suits Wilton’s atmospheric Victorian interior. Ben Pickersgill’s lighting transforms the space from fairy glade to parliamentary chamber with elegant simplicity, whilst Merry Holden’s choreography makes the most of a limited cast on a small stage.

This is clearly a production on a modest budget. The chorus and orchestra are stripped down to the bone, yet this constraint becomes a virtue, bringing clarity and intimacy to Sullivan’s orchestrations. Such limitations make the triumph all the more remarkable.

Gilbert and Sullivan is not currently fashionable, but perhaps it’s just what we need. In our era with unprecedented levels of anxiety and depression, there is something profoundly restorative about surrendering to such unashamed silliness. It is impossible to watch Iolanthe without cheering up.

With the upper chamber still stuffed with cronies and hereditary hangers-on, Gilbert’s century-old satire feels not like a museum piece but a call to arms. Unmissable.



IOLANTHE

Wilton’s Music Hall

Reviewed on 19th February 2026

by Elizabeth Botsford

Photography by Craig Fuller


 

 

 

 

IOLANTHE

IOLANTHE

IOLANTHE