ELEPHANT

Menier Chocolate Factory

★★★★

“We are fascinated by what Lucas has to say, but it’s the music that truly speaks for itself”

As we sit round an upright piano, we are given an in-depth analysis of the aftereffects of striking a piano key. How the slim slab of ivory trips a lever which brings a soft felt-lined hammer onto a metal string, which, in turn, causes the air to vibrate eventually spreading across the room and filling each of us with the same vibration that we call music. We are inextricably linked and reeled in by the unifying hook that transfixes us. Anoushka Lucas is the one telling us all this, although she doesn’t need this allegory to catch, and to hold, our attention. She is a natural-born raconteur, with a charismatic flair to match.

“Elephant” is written, composed and performed by Lucas. We suspect that there are veiled, autobiographical elements hidden within her monologue, but she is telling us Lylah’s story who, at the age of seven, watched a group of workmen rip out the windows of her family’s council flat to lower a piano into their living room. From then on it dominated her small living space, her life and her love affair with music began. This love of music drives the narrative, but it is fuelled by various pivotal moments in Lylah’s life that shape her identity as a mixed-race, working-class girl who dares to be different. Who dares to cross the class divide. Who dares to defy the white, misogynistic expectations that music executives have for her career. Who dares to challenge the innate and unearned privilege of colonialist descendants.

Lylah is continually drawn back to the piano. Sitting centre stage, slowly revolving as Lucas plays and sings. Entirely acoustic and without the aid of technological trickery her singing is intimate, rich and mellow. The piano is an extension of Lylah but when a song ends, we are back in the narrative and the piano becomes the elephant in the room. Lylah’s piano has ivory keys, and she has a hard time reconciling the beauty of her instrument with the cruelty that went into its construction. The brutal tearing out of the tusks from the elephant’s face, the use of enslaved people to transport the tusk. Lucas is able to revisit this theme with ease without hammering the point. Jess Edwards’ supple direction is sensitive to the crescendos and diminuendos of Lylah’s story; each element played as part of a rhapsody. A sharp piano note heralds a twist in the tale while Laura Howards lighting shifts through shades to illuminate the various phases of her life. We learn a lot about Lylah’s childhood – Lucas is expert at seeing the world through a child’s eyes, and then retaining that unfiltered honesty, bringing it with her into adulthood. Love comes in the form of Leo, a session drummer, who invites her to his family cottage. The ’cottage’ is, in fact, a nine-bedroom country manor, furnished with the trappings of the Empire. Including a mahogany grand piano. Lylah cannot prevent herself addressing the ‘elephant in the room’ – literal and symbolic – and the anger that pours out is heartfelt and human without being sanctimonious or political.

We then return to the music. Then back to another episode of life. But always back to the music. Sometimes the musical interludes are brief, and the show could perhaps do with more performance and less talk. The show is bookended by the observation that the black and the white keys on a piano are disproportionately balanced. It is an interesting analogy at the beginning, but we don’t need it repeated. Lucas has shown us that music is blind to this distinction. We are fascinated by what Lucas has to say, but it’s the music that truly speaks for itself.

ELEPHANT

Menier Chocolate Factory

Reviewed on 30th May 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan

Previously reviewed at this venue:

DRACULA, A COMEDY OF TERRORS | ★★★★ | March 2025

THE PRODUCERS | ★★★★★ | December 2024

THE CABINET MINISTER | ★★★★ | September 2024

CLOSE UP – THE TWIGGY MUSICAL | ★★★ | September 2023

THE THIRD MAN | ★★★ | June 2023

THE SEX PARTY | ★★★★ | November 2022

LEGACY | ★★★★★ | March 2022

HABEAS CORPUS | ★★★ | December 2021

BRIAN AND ROGER | ★★★★★ | November 2021

ELEPHANT

★★★★

“The onstage chemistry is faultless, funny and occasionally emotional, without being mawkish”

A little over a decade ago, three students fresh out of the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art decided to make some mischief. So, with dead end day jobs and pens in hand, they made ‘Mischief’; the theatre company that is now celebrating ten years in the West End with their inaugural “The Play That Goes Wrong”. Many offshoots have sprung up in the meantime, adopting the same formula. It won’t be alright on the night – of that you can be sure. And their most recent, “Mind Mangler: Member of the Tragic Circle”, stays true to their trademark.

But despite this element of predictability, there are quite a few surprises in store. Not to mention plenty of laughs. And the more we are drawn into the show, the more our respect grows for the odd couple who somehow manage (only just) to hold it all together on stage. Billed as a ‘two-man solo show’, it follows illusionist, magician and mentalist, The Mind Mangler (Henry Lewis), poking fun but also paying homage to the tradition of the magic show. Aided (or otherwise) by his hapless and hopeless stooge (Jonathan Sayer). Lewis and Sayer wrote the piece, along with fellow Mischief maker Henry Shields. Penn and Teller famously collaborated in the process, and the thinly disguised virtuosity of some of the tricks – even if they are apt to go wrong – certainly shines bright through the tongue-in-cheek delivery.

It takes great charisma to successfully portray a character who has no charisma. Just as it takes great talent to convincingly depict the talentless. This pair have it in spades. Lewis is imposing yet relaxed. Quick witted, he is a master at reading his audience (though evidently not their minds) and reacting with finely honed improvisatory skills. Sayer emerges from the auditorium as a planted audience member, making much of this concept throughout. This is their modus operandi. It is stretched a little thin, but the performances keep the entertainment factor nudging the high end of the scales. Not restrained by the magic circle it revolves in, Lewis and Sayer also look up to – and recall – comedy classics such as Laurel and Hardy. The onstage chemistry is faultless, funny and occasionally emotional, without being mawkish.

We never quite lose sight of the fact, however, that this is a scripted play and not a magic act. And we suspect that Sayer is not the only plant in the audience. But it never matters, as we are always rewarded with a punchline delivered with hilarious precision. The banter is delightful, and the lampooning is spontaneous and refreshing. Although we can see what’s coming, the performers suddenly twist it around, so we suddenly view it from a completely different angle. Lewis professes to be able to taste people’s names, smell their job, hear the thoughts of playing cards. We love to see him fail.

As the evening progresses, things do start to go right. Hannah Sharkey’s staging is slick and as precise as the mechanisms behind some of the illusions. But none of this lessens the comic impact, and we still leave the auditorium beaming from ear to ear. It feels personal, as though we have been part of a select few rather than one in a crowded West End theatre. That is where the true magic lies. You don’t need to be a mind reader to predict its ongoing success. We all love a bit of ‘Mischief’.

Tag Archives: Gillian Tan

ELEPHANT

★★★★

Menier Chocolate Factory

ELEPHANT

Menier Chocolate Factory

★★★★

“We are fascinated by what Lucas has to say, but it’s the music that truly speaks for itself”