Tag Archives: Finn Samuels

TOP GS LIKE ME

★★★

Royal and Derngate Theatre

TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

★★★

“a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised”

Masculinity is under threat… or is it? When algorithms decide what you see and hear, it’s easy to miss when you’ve slipped off the deep end. A sharp tale from Northamptonshire writer Samson Hawkins, ‘Top Gs Like Me’ delivers pointed lessons – even if it feels pitched at younger audiences.

Eighteen-year-old Aidan feels stuck – stacking shelves, sick mum, no dad. Meanwhile best friend Mia’s about to leave for uni with her rich new boyfriend. With no aspirations and little support, he retreats into the internet. And when slick, sharp talking ‘Hugo Bang’ pops up promising answers, he clicks… again and again. What follows is a stark look at how easily the internet can drag someone under, sometimes with horrifying consequences.

Northamptonshire local Samson Hawkins’ second full length play, with dramaturgy by Lauren Mooney, is a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised. It tackles big topics – disenfranchised youth, the ‘manosphere’, consent – in a way that’s instantly relatable and shows how fast a lonely scroll can turn dark. However, it’s not exactly subtle, with some hard landing points, on the nose dialogue, and a couple of developments lacking setup. Aidan’s hopeful final choice is followed by a rather dark coda – an important if bleak warning. Overall, it feels pitched at younger viewers – though judging by the enthusiastic teens behind me, it works.

Royal & Derngate Artistic Director Jesse Jones, with associate Kitty Benford and movement director Monica Nicolaides, chart Aidan’s slide with real clarity, escalating from casual clicks to a brain full of Bang. Their climactic fused voices and mirrored movements are absolutely gripping. Though the opening drags a little, shifting from a long music sequence into an equally long TikTok montage before Aidan’s first line. The sprawling skate park set, with audiences on both sides, is stunning though the scale and frequent side-on scenes feel more observational than immersive. The twenty-five strong student chorus is an ambitious flourish: their TikToks and multiplying Hugo Bangs are striking, though the group dances add less and aren’t always cleanly delivered. Gemma Boaden’s local accents ground the piece, but Aidan’s muffled diction and the echoey acoustic mean some lines get lost.

Rebecca Brower’s design swings big, turning the auditorium into a full-size skate park with moving platforms and built in lighting – an impressive feat. It looks fantastic, though the action can feel a little distant. Benjamin Grant’s sound design shines in places, especially the opening sequence of inside to outside headphone audio that shows how cut off Aidan already is. The wider soundscape of TikTok hits, tense underscoring and sharp effects complements the action well, but the volume swamps a few lines and the dialogue often echoes. Rory Beaton’s lighting is bold: hidden LED strips flare an angry red wherever Bang lurks, spreading as Aidan sinks deeper, while bursts of colour punctuate key lines before blending into more naturalistic moments. Brower’s costumes are spot on: Hugo’s sharp red suit over a white vest nails the slick on top, sinister underneath vibe, while Aidan’s baggier, dirtier imitation is so feeble it’s almost sympathetic.

The cast is fab. Danny Hatchard’s Hugo Bang steals the show with suave charisma that slowly reveals something far more sinister, culminating in a goosebump inducing climax. Daniel Rainford’s Aidan shows real vulnerability before spiralling out – a strong performance even if a few lines get lost. Fanta Barrie’s Mia offers a grounded counterpoint, supporting Aidan with believable frustration, though her energy plateaus slightly in the final scene. Emily Coates’ Grace deftly plays someone performing a version of herself, navigating the character’s ethical knots with nuance. Finn Samuels’ Charlie balances well meaning warmth with oblivious privilege. David Schaal’s Dave brings a world weary humanity and much needed voice of reason. The Internet Ensemble adds real spark with vibrant TikToks and energetic, if slightly loose, dancing.

‘Top Gs Like Me’ is a heavy hitting but important watch, packed with crucial lessons for younger audiences. Though aimed at a younger crowd, you too may find Bang’s pull hard to resist.



TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

Reviewed on 28th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

★★★

Jack Studio Theatre

VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

Jack Studio Theatre

★★★

“The cast does an admirable job of interpreting this unfamiliar work”

You’re probably unfamiliar with Oscar Wilde’s first play, ‘Vera; Or, The Nihilists’. Rarely performed after its 1883 premiere flopped catastrophically, I’m eager to see its first-ever London staging. This politically charged piece has revolutionary ambitions, tackling female empowerment, ideological corruption and the war on tyranny (how timely!). However, it fails to rally the troops, lacking Wilde’s signature sparkle and venturing into curious artistic terrain.

Vera Sabouroff, a young Russian peasant, is riled to revolution after a chance encounter with her brother, Dmitri, reveals he isn’t in Moscow studying law, but a Nihilist radical brutalised by the Czar’s tyrannical regime. Vera vows to avenge him, leaving with her father’s manservant, Michael, in tow. Fast forward five years and Vera is the Nihilists’ top lethal operative, tasked with assassinating the Czar. But when forbidden love sparks between Vera and her elusive comrade Alexis, duty and desire collide. Will the people win? Or will Vera betray her beliefs?

Cecilia Thoden van Velzen’s adaptation trims some of Wilde’s verbosity, allowing the epigrammatic wit he later became famous for to shine. A serious piece, there are still genuinely funny moments, such as a quip comparing diplomacy to salad making, and the Czar breaking the fourth wall to ‘smile’ at his people. Thoden van Velzen makes a smart call in introducing some commentary, with a disembodied narrator book-ending each act and reciting an epilogue which elucidates the play’s significance. Though the effect is a little spoiled by featuring said epilogue in the programme.

Another element I find curious is the decision to rewrite Wilde’s original ending. Instead of Vera being forced to choose between ideology and love, that decision is unceremoniously made by Michael, who has confessed he used to love her in the scene before. It completely changes the dynamic, erasing Vera’s willingness to die for her beliefs and suggesting a Chekhovian love triangle. Rather than letting Vera seize her progressive female agency, it’s ended by a (jealous?) man. As the first ever London staging, I question whether it’s necessary to tamper to such a degree.

Thoden van Velzen’s direction has moments of brilliance, such as loaded glances, shameless shrugs, and fourth wall breaks opening a window into the Czar’s troubled mind. However, the blocking needs work, Vera standing in profile or with her back to the audience a few too many times, and the cast getting a little lost amid the towering set pieces.

Thoden van Velzen’s sound design is spot on, with subtle effects and musical interludes perfectly complimenting the minimalist feel. The melancholy entry music, expertly timed window shot, and insistent clock chiming are all particularly effective.

Ruth Varela’s all-paper set and props build a world that feels authored and impermanent, doubling as a metaphor for power’s thin façade. However, the clumsy, clattering set changes, completed by the cast under full stage lights, breaks the believability and adds little when some structures move a mere few centimetres.

Anastasiia Glazova’s costumes evoke the period with a subtly modern flavour. Keeping Alexis in the same outfit emphasises his resolve and difference from his father.

The cast does an admirable job of interpreting this unfamiliar work. Jonathan Hansler is fantastic as both Czar and Vera’s father, revealing surprising depth and range. His initially Thénardier-esque Peter Sabouroff completely breaks when he recognises Dmitri; his Czar is terrifyingly unstable, volatile outbursts contrasting with icy coolness. George Airey’s Alexis brims with aristocratic ardour, at times petulant, others impassioned. Finn Samuels’ Michael completely transforms from tender youth to ruthless tactician, conveying much with just a look. Natasha Culzac does a decent job of Vera, though plays it a little safe, remaining more ingénue than insurgent.

You might not go wild for this production of ‘Vera; Or, The Nihilists’ but its messy history, magnetic performances and historic milestone make for a memorable experience.



VERA; OR, THE NIHILISTS

Jack Studio Theatre

Reviewed on 20th September 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Henry Roberts


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

HAVISHAM | ★★★ | March 2025
IN THE SHADOW OF HER MAJESTY | ★★★★★ | November 2024
CAN’T WAIT TO LEAVE | ★★★½ | November 2024
MARCELLA’S MINUTE TO MIDNIGHT | ★★ | September 2024
DEPTFORD BABY | ★★★ | July 2024
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING | ★★★ | August 2022

 

 

Vera

Vera

Vera