Tag Archives: Hannah Bothelton

CABLE STREET

★★½

Marylebone Theatre

CABLE STREET

Marylebone Theatre

★★½

“an important story with a compelling core and an impressive cast”

After two sold out 2024 runs, ‘Cable Street’ marches back into London. Based on the Battle of Cable Street, where ordinary people stood up to antisemitism and fascism, this musical offers a timely take on community but never quite finds its rhythm.

October 1936. Fascism is rising across Europe. Oswald Mosley’s antisemitic British Union of Fascists (BUF) plans to march through London’s Jewish East End. East Enders amass in their thousands in protest, reaching boiling point at Cable Street. The crowds roar “¡No pasarán!” (“They shall not pass”) – but can they hold the line, and at what cost?

Reworked since its 2024 productions, ‘Cable Street’ has a strong core but muddled execution. Alex Kanefsky’s book distils events into three quintessentially East End perspectives – Jewish, Irish and working class British. Kanefsky sharply captures how the increasingly disenfranchised, working class Ron is drawn in by the BUF, and how anger pushes Jewish Sammy to the brink of murder, offering a clear-eyed look at human complexity. Each period of unrest cleverly shifts the communities from resistance to rupture to resolve, emphasising the message of strength through solidarity.

Other elements land less well. The wider narrative feels scattered and superficial, juggling multiple families, supporting characters, conflicts and even centuries. The shared flat scenes grow more engaging as the families interweave, but never quite land on what binds them. Even central character arcs feel loose: the Sammy-Mairead romance (briefly a triangle with Ron) fizzles out by Act 2; and Ron’s unravelling feels underdeveloped. The present day frame – opening without a strong hook, fading out in Act 2, and ending on an underwhelming note – fades alongside the far richer 1930s thread.

Adam Lenson’s direction, with associate Hetty Hodgson‍, sharpens Sammy and Ron’s inner struggles and adds real weight to the mothers’ perspectives. However, there are some puzzling choices: the Hamilton style Act 1 button feels overfamiliar, the candy coloured BUF number is tonally confusing, the Times sandwich board feels cartoonish, and the leaflet based ‘violent resistance’ feels unintentionally ironic. Several sections feel static, with sparse and sometimes simple choreography from Jevan Howard Jones‍ which makes Sammy’s fluid street dance feel a little incongruous.

Tim Gilvin’s score, supervised by Tamara Saringer and directed by Dan Glover with Bianca Fung assisting, taps into the 1930s East End’s multicultural soundscape, blending Irish folk, Klezmer, Jewish liturgy and Caribbean influences. However, it’s also crammed with contemporary styles, such as R&B, drum and bass, and a big dose of rap for Sammy, which don’t always gel. Furthermore, genres change abruptly mid song – sometimes more than once – and don’t always align with dramatic tone. However, ‘Only Words’ and ‘Stranger/Sister’ are beautiful stand out songs. The band (Elizabeth Boyce, Robyn Brown, Joel Mulley, Max Alexander-Taylor) delivers a richness that belies their small size.

Yoav Segal’s set design is striking, with the bleak, raw exterior softening into the families’ homes. Sam Waddington and Ben Jacobs’ lighting leans into these contrasts with some strikingly dramatic moments, though others could be further developed. Charlie Smith and associate Mike Woods’ sound design is initially a little imbalanced but settles. The use of effects in high stakes moments is slick and impactful. Lu Herbert’s costumes feature slick transitions between present day and 1936, and similarities between the three families reinforce the sense they’re not so different after all.

The ensemble cast is superb. Isaac Gryn is outstanding as Sammy, oozing raw emotion and irresistible charisma, with commanding vocals and assured movement. Barney Wilkinson charts Ron’s radicalisation with striking authenticity and a stunning belt. Preeya Kalidas’ Edie and Elizabeth steal the show, pairing rich, soaring vocals with gritty, raw emotion. Jez Unwin shapeshifts effortlessly between multiple characters — sometimes within seconds — delivering ‘No Words’ with richness and emotional heft. Romona Lewis Malley gives Rosa’s supporting role real dimension and sings with impeccable precision.

‘Cable Street’ tells an important story with a compelling core and an impressive cast. However, several elements need refining for the production to land with the weight it deserves.



CABLE STREET

Marylebone Theatre

Reviewed on 26th January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Johan Persson

 

 

 

CABLE STREET

CABLE STREET

CABLE STREET

TELL ME

★★★★

The Place

TELL ME

The Place

★★★★

“imaginative and full of striking choices”

Forty-five years on from the AIDS crisis, HIV still carries significant stigma despite being fully treatable. Fresh from its 2025 world premiere, ‘Tell Me’ arrives in London determined to challenge outdated misconceptions. Blending circus, dance and theatre, it’s tender yet unflinching, offering hope without compromising honesty. Even in its evolving form, its 2026 tour demands attention – it might just save a life.

It’s 2026 and Grace receives a diagnosis she never imagined – HIV. Through modern eyes, we reach back to those who endured the 1980s AIDS crisis, honouring their legacy while confronting lingering misconceptions and looking towards a more hopeful future.

Produced by Turtle Key Arts, Sadiq Ali Company unveils a new iteration of ‘Tell Me’, devised by Sadiq Ali (the Company’s Artistic Director), Phoebe Knight and Jonah Russell, with dramaturgy by Rishi Trikha and choreography consultancy from Jonathan Lunn and Junior Cunningham. The potent blend of Chinese pole, aerial, dance and theatre feels effortlessly cohesive. Circus elements add real jeopardy: a standout moment involves Ali slipping from a cube with no safety – a gripping image of turmoil and struggle. The sparing use of speech lands with real weight, with cheers, grunts and quiet sobs conveying rare realism for a dance led work. Queer joy sits exactly where it should, celebrating life alongside pain.

That said, the narrative could be clearer. A plastic shroud reads like misinformed 1980s post-mortem practices, making Ali’s later scenes feel like new characters rather a continuous arc. A demonic figure’s surreal demeanour clashes with the otherwise grounded tone. The past–present contrast could go further: the modern day arc feels less defined, and the masked doctor’s blunt delivery of Grace’s diagnosis undercuts the idea of improved care. Overall, though, there’s powerful work here.

Devised by Ali, Knight and Russell, with associate direction from Hauk Pattison, the show is confidently steered. The opening sequence of pulsing, spinning Chinese pole cages lands with real force, immediately establishing a visual language that becomes a character in its own right. The final, gentler montage serves as a homecoming. The storytelling feels authentic (demonic detour aside), and the inventive use of Chinese poles as set and apparatus brings the world to life. That said, a couple of scenes could be tightened, such as Grace’s languid penultimate scene, and one bit of blocking distractingly places Ali and Russell behind moving set. Overall though the direction is imaginative and full of striking choices.

Ali, Knight and Russell deliver emotionally charged performances, moving authentically between joy, anguish and everything in between. Ali is especially magnetic, offering a masterful mix of strength, subtlety and emotional depth. Knight and Russell deliver thoughtful, affecting performances while pulling off impressive physical feats, though a couple of moments could be tightened to maintain the intentionality behind the rawness.

Aslı Özüak’s scenography has a stark, elegant simplicity, letting the Chinese poles command the space as they come to life. The nested cube design is inspired, shifting between set, cage and shelter, and tiny cubes as HIV diagnoses are a brilliant touch. Özüak’s costumes are sharply judged and drive the narrative. The 80s looks are effortlessly chic, and red for the HIV awareness ribbon threads thoughtfully through. The only less assured moment is the overly contrasting devil. Guy Veale’s sound design is potent, creating a sharply attuned and vivid soundscape that balances realism, abstraction, cheekiness and sobriety. A couple of transitions land slightly late, but the overall execution is strong. Jamie Heseltine’s lighting is beautifully judged with a keen instinct for when to let darkness speak. Light searching through shadow is especially evocative, and bold touches – a burst of strobe, a backlit smoke box – add real texture.

Though still evolving, ‘Tell Me’ tackles its subject with a maturity and tenderness that already resonate deeply. I’m excited to see how it develops and highly recommend catching it on tour.

 



TELL ME

The Place

Reviewed on 23rd January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Alberto Santos Bellido


 

 

 

 

TELL ME

TELL ME

TELL ME