1536

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting is striking”

1536 is definitely innovative: it uses the backdrop of Anne Boleyn’s defamation and execution to demonstrate the impossibility of existing as a woman and the power imbalance exploited by men. Ava Pickett’s debut play, directed by Lyndsey Turner, is a triumph.

We open on an atmosphere of sticky heat in an unspectacular field somewhere in Essex. There is a hazy unreality cultivated through this trope: the kind of dizzying heat that encourages libidinous frenzy. We see it here, as three young women meet to gossip and philosophise, and occasionally, to fornicate.

1536, the year Boleyn was beheaded, uses her engineered fall from grace – though a distant event for the women of the piece – to eloquently illustrate a world engineered for men at the expense of women. With frightening speed, Boleyn is transformed from the coveted woman Henry VIII left the Catholic Church for, to a treasonous, witchy ‘whore’. It’s telling. And what it tells is that men all too quickly will vilify women to vindicate and validate themselves. It’s Simone de Beauvoir all over: men will wreak power over women in all respects, in order to rationalise their sense and need for superiority. And crucially, 1536 argues, no woman is safe; there is no protective status. Not even the Queen of England is immune. Nor is the ‘good’ and pious wife. Nor is the mistress who operates outside martial confines. It argues that women are trapped from all sides and threatened on a very real level by the imbalance of power that stems from the unchecked violence and physical power of men over women – an aspect that feels all too relevant.

The cast is wonderful, especially Liv Hill as ‘pious’ Jane, and Siena Kelly as Anna, the ferocious ‘whore’ to Jane’s ‘angel’ (an anachronistic dichotomy but only in technicality). Tanya Reynolds as the sensible but quietly suffering midwife Mariella is also very watchable, and the two supporting men (Adam Hugill and Angus Cooper) are equally strong.

All the action takes place in this singular outdoor space: a dry landscape, overwhelmed by tall reeds, and a solitary blasted tree. Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting (Jack Knowles) is striking. This pressure cooker could be monotonous, but instead, it draws attention to the geographical smallness of life for people, and especially women, in 16th Century England; it’s an excellent demonstration of the staticity of their lives.

There is one ostensibly minor, but jarring flaw. The modern vernacular works well, and is a fabulous vehicle for comedy. The swearing, however, is not. The number of expletives were obscene, with little drama or effect. They were merely staples of the dialogue. But they were arresting without power, cheapening the quality of the otherwise agile dialogue. It’s a trend emergent in much period theatre at the moment, and it always seems tacky.

Also, please, can we all agree to bring back the interval?

But these are small problems. 1536 navigates much, all whilst being hilarious. It’s also nuanced: whilst exploring gender politics, it examines how women can leverage their own power through sex, and yet (!!) this is the most easily weaponised facet, unifying men and women alike against the more sexually voracious woman. The world has visibly changed in 500 years, but 1536 questions just how much.

1536

Almeida Theatre

Reviewed on 14th May 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

Previously reviewed at this venue:

RHINOCEROS | ★★★★ | April 2025

OTHERLAND | ★★★★ | February 2025

WOMEN, BEWARE THE DEVIL | ★★★★ | February 2023

1536

★★★

“The cast is uniformly strong, bringing definition to Marber’s testosterone-fuelled ensemble”

Three decades after its debut, Patrick Marber’s Dealer’s Choice returns to the London stage in a muscular revival at the Donmar Warehouse. Mostly set in the sweaty basement of a mediocre restaurant, this brutal portrait of male compulsions and laddish bravado still cuts deep, even as it reminds us just how entrenched and ugly blokey culture was in the mid-90s.

Written before Marber’s later success with Closer, Dealer’s Choice remains arguably his most vivid piece in a canon of hits: a searing, funny, and ultimately hollow study of men addicted not just to gambling, but to delusion.

Director Matthew Dunster’s production taps into the play’s timelessness, capturing the dreams, denials, and desperate self-mythologising that haven’t changed much even as mobile phones have turned from bricks to razor blades.

The cast is uniformly strong, bringing definition to Marber’s testosterone-fuelled ensemble. Daniel Lapaine is chillingly precise as Stephen, the restaurant owner whose demand for control barely masks his own compulsions. His bullying interactions with his son Carl – played with a raw sadness by Kasper Hilton-Hille – form the play’s anguished emotional core, even if their conflict at times feels contrived.

Alfie Allen flutters about as pallid Frankie, the wide-boy waiter whose cocky swagger only thinly veils a deeper frustration. He captures the double purpose of the bantz – as weapon and shield. Theo Barklem-Biggs, meanwhile, is the most impressive of the lot, bringing tightly wound fury to Sweeney, the chef desperate to save face – and some money – for a day out with his daughter.

The late arrival of Brendan Coyle’s Ash, a taciturn force with his own dark motives, shifts the game’s stakes dramatically. Coyle’s performance is an embodiment of seething menace: his mere presence alters the dynamic, exposing the men’s bravado for the fragile veneer it is.

But it is Hammed Animashaun’s turn as Mugsy that lingers longest. Mugsy, the hapless, endlessly optimistic dreamer who hopes to open a restaurant in a disused public lavatory in Bow – not inconceivable these days – is the heart of the play. Animashaun, a blissfully funny actor, manages to balance clownish exuberance with bruised humanity, making Mugsy’s pipe dreams oddly touching. He alone seems fully rounded in a cast of men who appear only to perform for each other.

Dunster’s production leans into the claustrophobia of the setting, with Moi Tran’s set design ingeniously lifting the restaurant’s kitchen and dining room skywards to reveal the grim basement beneath, the card table rotating throughout so we see every face. Some knowledge of poker helps in the occasionally confusing second act.

If the production occasionally overstates the father-son melodrama, and its feral language is jarring, it never loses sight of Marber’s essential insight: that in this world, the biggest gamble isn’t with money but with self-worth. Dealer’s Choice reminds us that laddish culture, for all its swagger, often masks desperation and loneliness. The red flag of the ’90s has become a fully blown crisis in the intervening decades

Tag Archives: Helen Murray

1536

★★★★

Almeida Theatre

1536

Almeida Theatre

★★★★

“Max Jones’ excellent design, complemented by an arresting use of lighting is striking”