Tag Archives: Helen Murray

STAGE KISS

★★★★

Hampstead Theatre

STAGE KISS

Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“There are twists and turns as we are shuffled between ever growing layers of reality and fantasy”

It was the ancient Chinese philosopher, Chuang Tzu, who first formulated the ‘dreaming argument’, that goes some way to explain the unsettling experience of waking up from a dream and not fully knowing whether we are in reality, or whether we are still in the dream believing we are awake. There are quite a few moments in Sarah Ruhl’s “Stage Kiss” that provoke a similar sensation. Towards the end of her wry and unique take on the ‘play within a play’ concept, we begin to fail to tell the difference. It is a framing device that Rhul handles with skill, in the same way that she can combine making us laugh while we simultaneously question human relationships.

Inspired by her experiences as a playwright in the rehearsal room, “Stage Kiss” is a tribute to the acting profession, reflecting the absurd yet fascinating concept of faking reality for a living. It is also a romantic comedy. Set in an indeterminate present – though before intimacy coordinators became a thing – it focuses on two actors who have been lovers in the past and are now both cast in a play in which they must kiss each other repeatedly. They need to make the kiss convincing but at the same time they must maintain the boundary between their real lives outside the theatre and the emotional lives they are fabricating on stage. The added complication of a previous shared intimacy and heartbreak adds fuel to the already incendiary dilemma. The lines get well and truly blurred in Ruhl’s story of life imitating art imitating life.

Despite the premise; the writing, acting and the direction are all steeped in reality. It takes a particular skill to portray bad writing, bad acting and bad directing convincingly, without coming across as just being bad. Each department here are truly excellent. The first act opens in the audition room for the premiere of the preposterously written fictional play, ‘The Last Kiss’, before moving into the rehearsal room and then finally onto opening night. Blanche McIntyre directs with the sharpest eye on realism, matched by the cast’s unfailing authenticity and naturalism. There is deep affection for the industry that gives licence to satirise it to the hilt. Whether you relate to it as an insider or not, the comedy is perfectly pitched and the characterisation astonishingly accurate. If anybody stands out, it is Myanna Buring, who lights up the stage with her nuanced portrayal of the lead actress (simply referred to as ‘she’) whose foundations are shaken by the arrival of her leading man (the wonderful Patrick Kennedy). Rolf Saxon, as the director, brilliantly encapsulates the misguided and ineffectual earnestness of the fictional ‘luvvie’ world that these characters inhabit. It is sheer joy watching them murder their art, aided and abetted by Oliver Dimsdale’s cuckolded husband, and James Phoon as the out-of-his-depth understudy. Toto Bruin and Jill Winternitz complete the line-up, relishing their bit-part roles and drawing them into the comedy spotlight.

Whilst the humour is preserved in the second act, the tone shifts dramatically. Opening night for ‘The Last Kiss’ is done and dusted, the reviews are terrible and we are now in a shabby apartment. Onstage romance has overlapped into real life. We tread close to farce but, again, the writing and the acting are too fine to cross that boundary. Multi-rolling comes into play as Dimsdale is now the real-life cuckold and Bruin the daughter caught in the crossfire of adult infidelities; while Winternitz doubles as the wronged girlfriend. We are witnessing the aftermath. The real life. But like Tzu’s dream, we have to remind ourselves we are still watching make believe. Saxon returns as the director, with an even more outrageously bad idea for another play. There are twists and turns as we are shuffled between ever growing layers of reality and fantasy, in between which are surprising moments of serious and heartfelt poignancy.

Against the backdrop of Robert Innes Hopkins’ shifting and authentic sets, “Stage Kiss” is disconcertingly clever. It starts with a kiss. But that kiss is just the foreplay to something much more intimate and complicated. And brilliantly funny too. Just like real life I guess, if you’re able to tell it apart. But even if we are led to question it, one thing is for certain. The play within the play received terrible reviews. Ruhl’s play is unquestionably the real thing.



STAGE KISS

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 14th May 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Murray


 

 

 

 

STAGE KISS

STAGE KISS

STAGE KISS

TWELFTH NIGHT

★★★★

Barbican

TWELFTH NIGHT

Barbican

★★★★

“There are many moments of light and silliness in this production”

When Feste – the fool attached to Olivia’s household – hangs upside down from the rafters, crooning as though in an after-hours jazz club; while Orsino is draped across a grand piano ten feet below him, you know you’re in for a “Twelfth Night” with a difference. Feste is less the sword of Damocles, but more Cupid’s arrow, if only he wouldn’t spend so much time clowning around. Played by Michael Grady-Hall, he weaves himself in and out of each of the play’s storylines as though he’s at the circus. Even during the interval, he plays Catch with the audience.

Yet he stops short of making this the ‘Feste Show’. Directed by Prasanna Puwanarajah, this eccentrically stylised production reveals how strong an ensemble piece it is. While Feste feels the need to fix everyone’s problems, they all seem to be getting on with it fine anyway. And relishing the opportunity. The sense of mourning and melancholy that introduces the story is reliant on the music more than the characters. Whether it is composer Matt Maltese’s jazzy piano accompaniments or the imposing pipe organ that periodically dominates James Cotterill’s outlandish sets, the tunes and refrains are what trigger the emotions. Ragtime accompanies the boisterous, boozy, behind-the-scenes shenanigans of Sir Toby and company. The same melody, slowed down for the organ, reflects the themes of lost and confused love that the protagonists are grappling with.

Daniel Monks’ Orsino is a velvet-clad playboy. A bachelor who prefers others to do his lustful bidding for him. Continually rejected by Olivia, his heart’s desire, he conveys a parallel growing affection for Cesario, his newly acquired manservant (the shipwrecked Viola in disguise). The same homoeroticism is more than hinted at between Olivia and Cesario/Viola. Gwyneth Keyworth embraces Olivia’s contradictions: resilient and practical yet vulnerable and easily infatuated. Continually dropping hints that he/she isn’t who she really is, Olivia pursues him/her anyway, perhaps not really caring too much about the gender. Freema Agyeman is a striking and versatile Olivia. Forcefully charismatic and sultry, and also playfully swinging between offended gravitas and excited sensuality.

Samuel West shines as Malvolio, austere one moment until duped into shaking his tail feathers for Olivia. Hilarious in his stockings, garters and broad smile. Yet when the game is up, his final exit is ultimately moving. Joplin Sibtain’s Sir Toby Belch is like an untrained hound while Danielle Henry’s Maria is his handler. As Sir Andrew Aguecheek, Demetri Goritsas is an all-shook-up, Americanised mix of Stan Laurel and Hugh Laurie.

Puwanarajah’s playful approach often detracts from the true emotion, but our attention never wanders and, among the mix of styles, small details are mischievously slipped in – like “Chekhov’s tramp”. A wandering vagrant or police officer may cross the stage for no apparent reason. A painter and decorator will be seen working away on nobody-knows-what. There are many moments of light and silliness in this production. It is a play that sets out amid grief, mourning and tragedy on its stylish journey towards celebration and unity, with some unexpected steps on the way. Occasional ad-libbing, along with scripted anachronisms, reference the festive season. We leave the theatre with a warm spring in our step. A joyous and heart-tugging production.



TWELFTH NIGHT

Barbican

Reviewed on 16th December 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Helen Murray


 

 

 

 

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT