Tag Archives: Guy Jones

ATLANTIS

★★★★

Minerva Theatre

ATLANTIS

Minerva Theatre

★★★★

“Thought-provoking, moving and superbly acted”

We often encounter climate change as data: rising temperatures, shifting predictions and alarming forecasts. Emily White’s Atlantis transforms those abstract figures into a deeply human story of loss and survival. Inspired by the true story of a North Welsh coastal community forced to leave as the sea gradually encroached and investment in sea defences ceased, the play follows one family over almost three decades as they confront the slow loss of the place they love. Rather than focusing on environmental catastrophe alone, White explores its impact on relationships, asking how political conviction and activism can unite generations while also exposing deep divisions.

The story centres on grandparents Gwen (Vivien Parry) and Bryn (Richard Elfyn), whose coastal bungalow has been their family’s safe haven, a home they hoped would endure for generations. When they learn it will eventually be surrendered to the sea, the news threatens not just their future but that of their widowed daughter Claire (Catrin Aaron) and her children, Philip and Rhiannon, who share the home. As the years pass, each responds differently to an increasingly uncertain future, creating a drama in which love, grief, hope and frustration constantly compete.

The play asks uncomfortable questions without offering easy answers. Is recycling enough? Is changing individual behaviour enough? Does direct action achieve anything? White never attempts to resolve these dilemmas, instead acknowledging the helplessness many people feel in the face of such an overwhelming problem.

There are moments when the writing becomes a little too on the nose, particularly when characters voice ideas that might have been more powerful left implied. Yet these passages are balanced by generous humour and genuine warmth. White understands that families continue to laugh, fall in love and tell stories even while the world around them changes.

At the heart of the production are Vivien Parry and Richard Elfyn, whose deeply lived-in performances anchor the play. They capture the ease, affection and occasional frustrations of a couple who have shared a lifetime together, with every glance, gesture and teasing exchange suggesting decades of familiarity. Their repeated retelling of the story of how they first met becomes a touching running motif that gathers considerable emotional weight by the play’s conclusion.

The wider cast is equally strong. Catrin Aaron convincingly conveys Claire’s exhaustion and increasing reliance on alcohol as she juggles low-paid care work, motherhood and later caring for her ageing parents. Rex Bamber and Iris Dempsey bring a cheeky playfulness to the young Philip and Rhiannon, while Alfie Llewellyn captures the older Philip’s desire to escape the uncertainty of his childhood through his relationship with the more affluent Astrid (Sara Otung). Eirlys Lovell-Jones is compelling as the older Rhiannon, bringing a steely determination and emotional conviction to a character who carries forward the play’s most urgent questions about personal responsibility, activism and the choices we make in the face of an overwhelming crisis.

Guy Jones directs with confidence, allowing the intimate family scenes to carry as much weight as the broader political concerns. The shifts across nearly thirty years feel fluid, and the production resists melodrama even as the stakes steadily rise.

Frankie Bradshaw’s design, built from elements that suggest driftwood and sailcloth, evokes both the family’s weathered bungalow and the coastline itself, creating a constant reminder of the sea’s looming presence. Holly Khan’s sound design is particularly effective, creating an ever-present atmosphere of sea and weather that gradually intensifies as the environment becomes increasingly threatening.

Ultimately, Atlantis succeeds because it refuses to reduce the climate crisis to slogans, although we see plenty of those on protest placards. Instead, it examines what environmental change means for one ordinary family, while reflecting a much wider human experience. Thought-provoking, moving and superbly acted, it reminds us that the climate crisis is not just about statistics and forecasts, but about homes, histories and the people whose lives are transformed by forces beyond their control.



ATLANTIS

Minerva Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd July 2026

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Marc Brenner

 

 

 

 

 

ATLANTIS

ATLANTIS

ATLANTIS

Blackout Songs

Blackout Songs

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

BLACKOUT SONGS at the Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

 

Blackout Songs

“the ending is strong enough that the audience’s slight loss of attention is whipped back into submission”

 

Alice and Charlie have both found themselves at their first AA meeting. Lingering by the coffee table, avoiding taking their seats, Alice persuades Charlie that he needs a drink for medicinal purposes, and off they run. This is the beginning of a tumultuous, toxic, hopelessly sincere love story. Or at least, that’s how one of them remembers it.

Scenes are presented as fact, later disputed or questioned, with no resolution; specific details and conversations repeat themselves in various parts of the story, and the audience experiences the desperate, failing attempt to recall things as they happened. It reminds me of Florian Zeller’s The Father, where we experience dementia first-hand, except in this case, neither witness is reliable, nor does it really matter. The fact is they love each other.

Anisha Fields’ design appears, at first, almost non-existent: stackable chairs line two sides of the stage, and that’s about it. It’s possible that’s just how the auditorium looked pre-rehearsals. After a while, though, despite their avoidance of AA, the chairs seem to suggest that the whole play is taking place at a meeting, someone trying to set the record straight, finally. Alice is dressed like Penny Lane from Almost Famous, in a fitted Afghan coat, large sunglasses, and a little slip dress. The comparison is perfect: Alice has performed as herself for so long she’s become the performance, and what appears false initially is actually just who she is now. She seems so ridiculous on first meeting that I’m worried Rebecca Humphries just isn’t very good, or the script has let her down. But the opposite is true: her façade is ridiculous, but her insecurities bubble just under the surface.

Alex Austin’s Charlie is scrappy and dopey and his near lack of costume- baggy top and jeans- reflects that. He’s the antithesis of Alice, always himself, always honest about how he feels. Austin appears as a nervous puppy, so ready to be loved, and it’s completely endearing and, ultimately, heart breaking.

Sound designer Holly Khan and lighting designer Christopher Nairne do a lot of the heavy lifting: masses of reverb when they’re in a church, a thudding heartbeat timed so perfectly with the on-stage tension, you can’t recall when it started; sickly florescent tubes double as unflattering lighting at the AA meeting, and artful strobes, denoting the strange experience of time, and the eponymous blackouts.

There is no dead space in this script, but writer Joe White does have a problem on his hands. Because despite the fact that there are no scenes to cut, it’s too long. Ultimately it doesn’t matter; the ending is strong enough that the audience’s slight loss of attention is whipped back into submission. But the script is so nearly perfect, it’s a shame it’s not ever so slightly pacier.

 

 

Reviewed on 10th November 2022

by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Robert Day

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

 

The Two Character Play | ★★★★ | July 2021
Big Big Sky | ★★★★ | August 2021
Night Mother | ★★★★ | October 2021
The Forest | ★★★ | February 2022
The Fever Syndrome | ★★★ | April 2022
The Breach | ★★★ | May 2022
The Fellowship | ★★★ | June 2022
Mary | ★★★★ | October 2022

 

 

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