THE ISLAND OF MOOR

Hope Theatre

★★½

“there is a fascinating truth at the heart of the story”

Whether deliberate or not (and kudos if deliberate) a warm odour hangs over the tight theatre space ahead of The Island of Moor.

It has a potent kick, familiar to anyone who has occupied a field under siege from the elements and thought it a holiday. It is the stench of clothes that never dry, the fug of earthy mulch, and the omnipresent stew of mildew and sweat.

Camping.

From this filthy congregation of damp rags and wilted canvas emerges Robert James Moor (James Lyon) – dirt on his face and bean juice in his stubble. He is surprised to see us, not least because we must have survived the monsters that supposedly prowl this place.

“I’m not delusional,” he reassures Jemima, one of a clutch of plastic ducks he treats as friends.

He shares with us the routine of his day – The Watch, wherein he patrols his space, and The Orders which come from “her”. On the day of our visit, “she” delivers these instructions via a low-flying helicopter.

According to Moor, there has been an apocalypse, and he has fled the remnants of society to hole up here. He is waiting for “her” to bring about some kind of restoration.

Who is she? And who is he?

Those are the questions.

In all this, Lyon, with his Scottish brogue, and his fluctuating cheeky-chappie demeanour, keeps us briefly amused and interested.

And then, 40 minutes later, we are done.

Once we have spent a short time with Moor and heard snippets from his uneventful army life, the production canters to a close, as if embarrassed by its lack of substance. Writer/director Candice Mac has nothing much to say, says it twice to fill out the minutes, then turns off the lights.

But there is one more item of business before we conclude and that is the killer twist which bears this whole structure. No spoilers – but it is perhaps necessary to point out that there is a fascinating truth at the heart of the story.

I mention this solely because this truth seems to inhibit the writer to a state of creative paralysis. To be faithful to the scant facts, she attempts few explorations of character or psyche and, in their absence, offers no flights of fancy or supposition. There is no trail of biscuit crumbs for the audience to follow that might lead us to understand who this man was and why he lived on this particular island in this particular manner.

Instead, there is an honourable if flattened sense of distance and respect.

Not a play then, or even a story, but an intriguing footnote.

Short and sweet.

THE ISLAND OF MOOR

Hope Theatre

Reviewed on 26th March 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Isadora Baccon

THE ISLAND OF MOOR

R.O.I (RETURN ON INVESTMENT)

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“enough twists to match those of a corporate knife in the back”

There are few tales of corporate hubris to match that of Theranos; how wide-eyed Elizabeth Holmes – now jailed – conned millions from seasoned investors with the promise of a pin-prick diagnosis that never worked.

It was a potent fable of utopian optimism and human greed.

R.O.I. (Return on Investment) follows in that bloodline, but writer Aaron Loeb declares this a post-Theranos piece, not least because the world-changing medical advances of PreCure appear to work.

Loeb himself used to live in the San Francisco Bay area and is a gaming entrepreneur, so he tackles his subject – the hollow twang of venture capitalism – with an authentic curiosity.

The prospect of curing cancer and ending Alzheimer’s may hold the hope of legacy but – as grizzled veteran of the internet boom Paul Melrose declares – “It is never, ever bigger than the money.”

He is mentoring his “work-daughter” and partner May Lee (precision engineered by Millicent Wong) and between them they represent different eras of the tech boom. May has a millennial sense of impact and purpose. Melrose (a charismatic and wry Lloyd Owen) just wants to win. He argues that “the only way to fix this world is to make it profitable to do so”.

PreCure is the brainchild of evangelical Willa McGovern (a wily Letty Thomas) who begins the piece fumbling a set of handwritten pitch cards but quickly has May and Melrose riding on the back of a billion-dollar unicorn.

The scene is set then for a generational battle, about values, about private funds and public health, about the wider purpose of capitalism. But the play fidgets: it doesn’t like these genre restrictions and wants more.

To that end, Willa reveals a much darker side.

With a handbrake screech, she offers some radical views and indulges in some wild conspiracy theories that prove an existential challenge to the three-way relationship.

This reveal demands a leap of faith not only from May and Melrose but from the audience as well. We need to be assured Loeb knows where he’s going with this.

Truth be told, it’s unclear for a time.

Indeed, there is a degree of preposterous overreach in scenes where the threesome reveal dastardly truths about each other during a very public hearing before Congress.

But, ultimately, Loeb lands it, courtesy of a production that is confident, exuberant and packed with ideas. If high stakes corporate skulduggery is your thing, you’ll take it in your stride.

To assist, designer Rosie Elnile has created a slick set with digital backdrops and neat gadgetry, while director Chelsea Walker keeps the pace brisk.

The cast is accomplished, albeit working with characters that function largely as cyphers. The storytelling, however, supplies enough twists to match those of a corporate knife in the back.

Tag Archives: Giles Broadbent

THE ISLAND OF MOOR

★★½

Hope Theatre

THE ISLAND OF MOOR

Hope Theatre

★★½

“there is a fascinating truth at the heart of the story”