Tag Archives: Ellen Cheshire

SUNNY AFTERNOON

★★★½

UK Tour

SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton

★★★½

“an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off”

Sunny Afternoon tells the story of The Kinks largely on Ray Davies’s terms. With an original story by Davies, whose back catalogue provides the music and lyrics, and a book by Joe Penhall, the musical places Ray firmly at its centre. Other members of the original line-up are present, sometimes vividly so, but this is unmistakably Ray’s version of events, and that perspective shapes both the strengths and limitations of the show.

As with many subject-shaped biographical musicals, darker truths are smoothed over. Ray’s struggles with alcohol are mostly absent, while the band’s volatility is reduced to clashes between Dave and Pete. Ray appears the sensible, buttoned-up genius, Dave the reckless foil, simplifying a far messier reality and veering into myth-making.

Danny Horn plays Ray Davies as an introspective, guarded figure, a musical obsessive whose inwardness is most fully explored through his relationship with Rasa, played with warmth by Lisa Wright. By contrast, the rest of the band are drawn more broadly. Oliver Hoare’s Dave Davies is louche, volatile and impulsive, embodying the excesses of a sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle. Harry Curley brings a steady presence to Pete Quaife, though the character remains lightly sketched. Zakarie Stokes’ Mick Avory barely registers in the first act, and his extended drum solo at the start of Act Two feels more like compensation than character development.

Edward Hall’s direction is strongest when focusing on the band’s formation and search for a distinctive sound within the emerging 1960s music scene. The opening contrast between a tuxedoed, doo-be-dooing crooner and the raw energy of The Ravens (their early incarnation) is knowingly artificial but theatrically effective, clearly signalling the shift from the 1950s into the Swinging Sixties.

The narrative moves from the breakthrough of You Really Got Me through mounting domestic pressures for Ray and Rasa to the ill-fated US tour that led to a four-year ban. Back in Britain, Ray confronts depression and legal battles, while also mounting a determined creative resurgence.

The music is integrated in two ways: some songs operate in a musical theatre mode, articulating emotion or narrative shifts, including Dedicated Follower of Fashion as the band get their makeover and Rasa’s aching I Go to Sleep as she struggles alone with a newborn while Ray tours. Elsewhere, songs emerge through writing, rehearsing and recording, with the slow assembly of Waterloo Sunset carrying real anticipation.

There is an emphasis on the tension between creativity and commerce. The system itself becomes the antagonist, embodied by Grenville Collins and Robert Wace, played with affable ineptitude by Tam Williams and Joseph Richardson, and Larry Page (Alasdair Craig), forever doing his best as the grasping intermediary. Eddie Kassner, given a harder edge by Ben Caplan, emerges as the closest thing to a villain, emphasising how the band’s artistic ambition was constantly challenged by financial exploitation. The Moneygoround lands especially well here, naming names and exposing the machinery behind the scenes.

Miriam Buether’s striking three-sided wooden set, stacked with speakers, adapts fluidly to studios, homes and stages, with stars and stripes unfurled during the US tour. Costumes chart the band’s evolution from matching suits to greater individuality. The cast play their own instruments, supported by a small onstage band, lending credibility to the performance scenes.

The second act does run long. The drum solo and a cluster of melancholic moments between Ray and Rasa extend emotional beats that have already landed. As a jukebox musical, Sunny Afternoon occasionally struggles to reconcile musical theatre convention with the sharper edge of The Kinks’ songwriting.

Still, there is real pleasure here. Ray Davies wrote some extraordinary songs, witty, observant and socially alert, even if the show only partially explores that sharpness. Uneven and occasionally self-mythologising, Sunny Afternoon remains an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off.



SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th December 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

SUNNY AFTERNOON

SUNNY AFTERNOON

SUNNY AFTERNOON

PRIVATE VIEW

★★★★

Soho Theatre

PRIVATE VIEW

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“performances that are magnetic and unsettling”

Don’t let the short running time fool you. Private View is a rich, emotionally and intellectually rewarding play. Jess Edwards charts a Sapphic relationship from the first flicker of attraction into far more complicated territory where differences in age, experience, wealth and status continually reshape the balance of power. It is clever, unsettling writing that refuses simple answers. Annie Kershaw’s lean, precise direction heightens the tension and keeps the momentum taut. The two women are never named; in the programme they appear simply as A and B.

A, played by Patricia Allison, is 23, a PhD student in physics and philosophy. B describes her as “luminous” when they first meet and the production leans into that with bright, tight-fitting fast-fashion pieces that amplify her freshness and immediacy. Allison’s performance, though, gives A something deeper. She is quick, curious and immediately engaging. Her speech fizzes with youthful energy, full of unfinished thoughts, yet when she talks about her research it becomes crisp, focused and passionate. Edwards’ writing creates a deliberate tension between her scientific confidence and her emotional newness, particularly as she experiences queer desire for the first time. Her youth and beauty give her fleeting leverage, even a sharpness that borders on cruelty, but she remains vulnerable beneath it.

B, played by Stefanie Martini, is 38 and an established photographer whose work sells for high prices. Martini’s early scenes give her a composed, articulate confidence, someone used to being the older and steadier presence. The costuming reinforces this with well-chosen natural fibres and subtle luxury, the kind of quietly expensive wardrobe that signals success without drawing attention to itself. As the play unfolds, cracks appear: the history of alcoholism, past failures and a hungry obsessiveness toward A that becomes harder to disguise. Edwards gives B advantages in age, experience and money and Martini reinforces these through precise gestures and controlled posture, although a nervous need to be liked and wanted keeps breaking through. But that authority is never fixed. It flickers, unravels, reforms. The shifting power between A and B becomes one of Private View’s sharpest tools and both actors handle those turns with nuance.

The play traces their relationship with close and often uncomfortable detail. Desire intensifies, old wounds rise to the surface and what begins with seductive ease becomes something far more tangled. Their flirtation with dominance and submission adds heat in the bedroom but also destabilises everything outside it. Differences in class, age and emotional history complicate every moment, making their connection alluring one second and unnerving the next. Edwards keeps the question of control open which is precisely what gives the piece its bite.

Allison and Martini rise to the show’s demands with performances that are magnetic and unsettling. Allison’s openness makes A instantly appealing while Martini’s measured exterior hides something sharper and more volatile. Their chemistry is charged, unpredictable and occasionally difficult to watch.

Kershaw’s direction keeps the atmosphere tightly coiled without ever overplaying it. Ingrid Mackinnon’s movement and intimacy work gives weight to the smallest shifts in breath, posture and space. Catja Hamilton’s lighting moves between warmth and stark clarity, including a striking sequence in near darkness that recalls B’s photographic practice. Georgia Wilmot’s sparse set and carefully considered costume design reinforce the piece’s study of difference, desire and instability. Scene changes, achieved through shifts in body language, posture and lighting, carry a dry wit that keeps the pace alive.

By the end, the initial thrill between A and B has thickened into something claustrophobic. Private View shows with unsettling precision how desire, power and coercion can twist together until they are impossible to separate. Intelligent, stylish and quietly disturbing, it is a compelling study of a relationship folding in on itself and leaving little room to breathe.



PRIVATE VIEW

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd December 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Ciara Robinson


 

Previously reviewed at Soho Theatre venues:

CAMILLE O’SULLIVAN: LOVE LETTER | ★★★★★ | November 2025
JURASSIC | ★★★ | November 2025
LITTLE BROTHER | ★★★★ | October 2025
BOG WITCH | ★★★½ | October 2025
MY ENGLISH PERSIAN KITCHEN | ★★★★ | October 2025
ENGLISH KINGS KILLING FOREIGNERS | ★★★½ | September 2025
REALLY GOOD EXPOSURE | ★★★★ | September 2025
JUSTIN VIVIAN BOND: SEX WITH STRANGERS | ★★★★★ | July 2025
ALEX KEALY: THE FEAR | ★★★★ | June 2025
KIERAN HODGSON: VOICE OF AMERICA | ★★★★★ | June 2025

 

 

PRIVATE VIEW

PRIVATE VIEW

PRIVATE VIEW