Tag Archives: Giles Broadbent

BIRD GROVE

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

BIRD GROVE

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“a confident production, keen to entertain and doing so with ease”

As a debate rages about the death of reading, award-winning playwright Alexi Kaye Campbell comes at us with an easily digestible and endlessly spirited primer on George Eliot.

This new play comes bookended with a slice of drawing room farce at the beginning to ease us in – think Malvolio courting Elizabeth Bennet – and a curiously on-the-nose coda at the end. This is in case we still haven’t figured out that headstrong Mary Ann Evans is destined to become the author of Middlemarch under a gender-swapping nom de plume.

For the most part, though, this is an engrossing and serious study of a young woman loved and wronged repeatedly; a victim of her age, her sex and her voracious curiosity.

To 1840s Coventry then, and Bird Grove, for this fact-based origin story.

The setting (Sarah Beaton) conveys an elegant five rooms simply devised on a rotating stage. This is the home of Robert Evans (Owen Teale) who has worked all his life to acquire such a property, a bowerbird’s nest in which to show off his unmarried daughter Mary Ann (Elizabeth Dulau).

But bird’s fly and nests are emptied, and that is certainly in the mind of Mary Ann who decides one day, after much turmoil, not to accompany her father to church. She doesn’t believe in the dogma of religion nor the marketplace of singletons.

The declaration is shocking.

In the face of this stand, one is stubborn, the other is wilful. And vice versa.

They are barely separate creatures in that regard.

Despite the fissure, there is always a chance of rapprochement. It is beautifully touching that twice widowed Robert Evans is exasperated and infuriated by his daughter’s defiance – but also proud in his own contained way.

He is a simple man, plain spoken, a grafter of no great insight. Except in this matter.

When smug allies and “free thinkers” Mr and Mrs Bray (Tom Espiner and Rebecca Scroggs) try to arbitrate, they list Mary Ann’s many talents. He has the perfect riposte to their snobbery.

“You are intelligent people and astute at least in spotting my daughter’s genius, but how astounding that you have not entertained the notion that I have spotted it myself.”

It’s true. An estate manager by profession, he knows how to rescue pigs from their own muck, but he also knows what possesses his daughter, even though he cannot fully come to terms with her significance.

Despite a nine-strong cast, the play is a classic double act of opposites – young and old, parent and child, traditional and progressive – rendering the early toilet troubles of silly suitor Horace Garfield (a winning Jonnie Broadbent) and other farcical diversions into something forgettable.

The chemistry, diffidence and opposition of father and daughter is key. Owen Teale as Robert is a towering man, a thunderous spirit and yet strangely uncertain for much of the play. But he discovers a resounding and unshakeable timbre when his convictions are truly challenged.

And Elizabeth Dulau as Mary Ann is as bright and fresh as the country morning – perspicacious, revolutionary, chafing at the yoke and aching to meet her destiny. If Dulau wasn’t a star already – thanks to Andor – this performance would bring her to notice. She embodies the duel of duty and ambition but retains crystal clarity throughout.

There are some quirks in the production – the language is a hybrid of formality and modern idioms and the business with the French mesmerist (James Staddon) seems – again – unnecessary. Meanwhile, Anna Ledwich’s graceful direction can sometimes become stilted.

But this is a confident production, keen to entertain and doing so with ease.

 



BIRD GROVE

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd February 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Johan Persson


 

 

 

 

BIRD GROVE

BIRD GROVE

BIRD GROVE

THE VIRGINS

★★★

Soho Theatre

THE VIRGINS

Soho Theatre

★★★

“The writer has this gossipy girl talk just right and it’s exquisite”

Virginity, and the loss thereof, is a big money game.

Miriam Battye’s playful script initially lowers the stakes when sweet 16-year-old pals Jess and Chloe convene in the bathroom ahead of their big night out at Lizard Lounge.

The plan is simple, pull a boy then back home sans conquests for chicken dippers and a sleepover.

No reason to be scared. Boys are, after all, “just us, flattened out”.

But the arrival of Anya (Zoe Armer) changes everything. She’s in the year above Jess (Ella Bruccoleri) and Chloe (Anushka Chakravarti) when such gradations matter. Also, she’s made the biggest leap of all and, get this, she’s had sex, actual sex.

The virginal duo becomes a trio with the arrival of perplexed Phoebe (adorable scene stealer Molly Hewitt-Richards) and they all have many questions for Anya – and even more reservations.

Rosie Elnile’s set is split in two, the bathroom on the left and on the right the living room. This is where Chloe’s drippy brother Joel (Ragevan Vasan) is hanging out with cool-as-they-come gym buddy and dullard Mel (Alec Boaden) playing video games.

More on them later, but for now, the mere presence of boys in the house and the hint that Jess may have a crush on her bestie’s dweeb bro adds immediate tension.

Anya changes the rules of the game: Boys in the living room. Let’s get to work, girls. These days we can have it all, no consequences.

In Battye’s twinkling play these bathroom scenes are a joy and a highlight. At one point the girls are all crammed in the bath, as if this is their life raft on a sea of hormones, confusion, shame and uncertainty. The three innocents stared doe-eyed at Anya and each must figure out if losing the big V is a big thing, a small thing, nothing at all or a necessary evil.

The writer has this gossipy girl talk just right and it’s exquisite.

In contrast, what we find in the living room is an absence of anything remotely resembling a boy. Boys don’t talk like girls – they banter, the belittle, they boast – but Joel and Mel’s rare and gnomic utterances are dead on arrival.

The drama is entirely uninterested in the plausibility of the jock and the spineless milksop as friends and Mel’s mini info dump about why modern girls are to blame for modern boys is spurious and inert.

Perhaps Battye is making a point about boys as objects, as alien creatures. But the half and half staging suggests otherwise. On one side, we have natter and nuance, on the other, lumpen lads soaking up real estate.

That is one letdown. The other comes with director Jaz Woodcock-Stewart’s curious pacing. The whole thing is an elongated 85 minutes but could have been a swift and much funnier 65. There are enough comedy smash cuts to move it into the territory of screwball sex comedy – but the director clearly pines for Pinter.

When the girls take over the living room, they suffer from the same torpor, and the pacing never recovers. Yes, there are darker elements at play here, and painful confessions, but they are low-key and strangely lost.

There has been much hype about this play, selling it as a kind of bawdy romp for Gen Z. Battye means to say something meaningful about sex and identity and for that – and for the laughs – she deserves all the plaudits.

But the play is strangely hurried in the key moments and painfully slow elsewhere, making for a night that is as unbalanced as teetering Phoebe on vodka and lemonade.



THE VIRGINS

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 5th February 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Camilla Greenwell


 

 

 

 

THE VIRGINS

THE VIRGINS

THE VIRGINS