★★½

“sets up an interesting space for boundaries to be transgressed”

Five perimenopausal women trek into the Welsh woods to scatter the ashes of their mutual friend Mei, an all-too-young victim of cervical cancer. Each knows her from a different stage in her life – there’s a friend from nursery, one from university, from work, from her children’s school, and her sister-in-law. They are as different from each other as the contexts in which they met Mei, but predictably come together in the night of camping and carousing that makes up most of director Emma Gersch’s ‘Kindling’. Equal parts chaotic and joyful, this play fails to live up to its promising premise.

A thick layer of leaves and a few saplings fill the stage, with a large photograph of an autumnal forest as its backdrop. Abi Groves’ set is effective while not exactly imaginative, though it comes alive as the disjointed group of women flood the scene with their belongings – bags of distinctly varying types, a camping chair, string lights, a single tent, the all-important urn perched on a tree stump. The stage feels rather full, though this is not down to the set so much as the almost constant clumsiness that inexplicably plagues the characters that inhabit it, who are always stomping about, sighing, and fussing with wine glasses and blankets and maps.

Dissimilar as they are, the characters are all restless, big personalities, each based on time-honoured archetypes: vegetarian hippie Cathy (played by a particularly funny Scarlett Alice Johnson), savvy lesbian Jules (Stacy Abalogun), perfect housewife Jasmin (Rendah Beshoori), posh party girl Sue (Ciara Pouncett), and frazzled mum Rose (Sarah Rickman). Refreshingly, and true to the ethos of Ladybird Productions at large, we meet these women at a somewhat later age than we have encountered them before, but they are familiar faces nevertheless. The actors have good chemistry, but why the late Mei ever thought that sending these characters on a commemorative trip together would turn them into friends remains a mystery, as (despite what the plot tells us) they fail to genuinely connect in spite of their obvious differences.

One issue that contributes to this is the aforementioned restlessness that runs through the play, and finds its source in Sarah Rickman’s script. Not only are there almost constantly five women on stage at the same time, who rarely actually sit down to have a chat altogether, there is also a flurry of things happening: there’s a big thunderstorm, Rose almost chokes to death and later finds her dog in the woods, Jasmin gets shat on by a bird and accidentally kills it, and Mei’s ashes end up in someone’s hair and then everyone’s coffee, among other things. Kindling bundles all the worst camping horror stories you’ve ever heard into an hour and a half and, as such, becomes frustratingly one-note, with little room for the different emotions grief conjures. Additionally, many of the play’s jokes feel disconnected from its subject matter and some of the dialogue borders on cliché (‘But my nails!’, Jasmin exclaims, and ‘You know what, I’ve not laughed like this in ages’, says Jules).

That being said, the second act was much more streamlined than the first. The group’s conclusion that Mei was perhaps a bit of a narcissist was an interesting twist, though I wished that this realisation had dawned upon her friends more gradually and naturally than it did, and that the potential consequences of this insight had been made to feel more urgent.

In taking the bizarre premise of an ash-scattering, rowdy camping trip, Kindling sets up an interesting space for boundaries to be transgressed, unlikely friendships to be forged, and breakthroughs to be had. But unfortunately, its potential gets lost in the chaos.

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

The Wetsuitman begins as a farce. The three actors metatheatrically ponder who their characters are to be, settling on caricatures from a send up of a Nordic Noir. In this, The Wetsuitman begins as one thing we think we know, so long as you religiously watched The Killing a decade ago. But by the final scene 80 minutes later, we are a world away from a comforting murder mystery and are forced to face the stark, human consequences of the alienation of refugees across Europe.

This is a true and extraordinary story, translated to stage with some brave directorial choices. The four scenes are almost better understood as vignettes, and while occasionally confusing, telling a story this vast with just three actors and three orange chairs on an otherwise bare stage is certainly an achievement.

The play, written by Freek Mariën and translated by David McKay, borrows heavily from an article by journalist Anders Fjellberg, published in Norwegian paper Dagbladet. Reading that piece this morning, I recognised many of the lines from the stage. These verbatim quotes give the play heart, with idiosyncratic comments and unfiltered observations that can be profound, prejudiced and humourous in turn.

Each scene, from bumbling detectives on a Norwegian coastline, to a mourning family in Syria, has a significantly different theatrical direction (Trine Garrett). The piece lends itself to this patchwork style, with no single character serving as an anchor throughout. However, this sometimes meant I had to keep checking my notes and the cast list to keep up. For example, in the second scene, the cast switches between fourteen different talking heads, many of which are simply credited as ‘another salesperson’. It’s not a surprise that some of these are more distinct than others.

The tone changes again in the third scene which is set in the Calais Jungle refugee camp and for the only time in the piece, the actors are amplified with microphones. Only their voices are used to guide the audience through the Jungle, as Nikiforos Fintzos’ sound and Amy Daniel’s lighting throughout is kept minimal. Bringing out the microphones felt like an unnecessary and fussy addition; I half expected they would augment singing, or some other vocal effects that never came.

All stagey conventions and tech fall away by the final scene, which features excellent naturalistic acting from the cast of three – David Djemal, Eugenia Low and Youness Bouzinab. Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.

Throughout the piece, significance is given to the role of the press in homage to investigative journalists behind the The Wetsuitman article. It was journalists who managed to solve this missing persons case when the authorities in Norway, the Netherlands, France and the UK could not recognise a person who ‘officially was not even here’. This point is for the most part subtly made, as the play keeps journalists off-stage, with their interviewees and sources only portrayed. Only a couple of times does the writing lean towards a larger conspiracy of ‘threats’ hanging over characters who speak to the press. This feels like a detraction from otherwise fair criticism of the inadequacies and apathy within the official investigative forces.

The Wetsuitman is a piece that lends itself to reflection and concentration. Though it was hard to pick out all the details live, after going back to the source material I was struck by how much was faithfully packed into the play. It might not have needed all of this, but I am glad they tried.

KINDLING

Park Theatre

★★½

“sets up an interesting space for boundaries to be transgressed”

KINDLING

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 27th October 2025

by Lola Stakenburg

Photography by Holly Darville

Previously reviewed at this venue:

KINDLING

KINDLING

KINDLING

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

★★★

“Without fanfare, it delivers a sensitive, real portrayal of grief, anger and loss.”

THE WETSUITMAN at the Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 29th August 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Tim Morozzo

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Wetsuitman

The Wetsuitman

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