Tag Archives: Ica Niemz


The Solid Life Of Sugar Water


Orange Tree Theatre

THE SOLID LIFE OF SUGAR WATER at the Orange Tree Theatre



“Both Katie Erich and Adam Fenton are immaculately cast. Initially seeming a strange match, they grow in strength as a couple before our very eyes”


In the programme, before any cast information or plot summary, Dr Michelle Tolfrey talks us through how best to support a friend who has lost a baby. Because of course, it’s such a fragile, awful situation in which, as she says, “you feel terrified of every word you say.” And despite the frequency of the tragedy in this country (director India Lown-Collins says that there were 2,597 stillbirths in the UK in 2021) we don’t really talk about it, because it feels so impossible to begin the conversation.

In this case, it begins with the least sexy sex scene- “Neither of us has washed in weeks”- both in thick knits and woolly socks, and using pillows and bed sheets to demonstrate physical intimacy, despite being only centimetres away from each other. One might easily mistake this for a comedy.

But this awkward, silly scene continues, spliced throughout, first in the telling of how Alice and Phil met, through their courting, to the first years of marriage, and finally to the pregnancy, and its premature termination. Suddenly this sex scene is not so funny, and the reason it’s not sexy is also the reason that despite how horribly awkward and seemingly unpleasant it appears to be, they insist on carrying on. Because at some point, they have to try to carry on.

I’m sorry I’ve told you the whole plot, but it doesn’t really matter. You already know where this is going as soon as you hear the subject, and ultimately it becomes a matter of degrees of tragedy: After something so awful happening to a young couple, can they make it through together?

Both Katie Erich and Adam Fenton are immaculately cast. Initially seeming a strange match, they grow in strength as a couple before our very eyes. Fenton’s enthusiasm and earnestness counters Erich’s bold forthrightness, and both are unafraid to show their innards without warranting much explanation. In fact, this is a theme of Jack Thorne’s play, that we are so entirely within the heart of the tragedy that lengthy explanation is superfluous.

Both leads have disabilities, but this is only worth mentioning because it’s near entirely irrelevant, except to say that director Indiana Lown-Collins has humbled the West End in their lack of inclusivity, showing how utterly immaterial disability is to quality of performance.

Ica Niemz’ design isn’t wholly unexpected, mostly taken up by a big bed that is made and unmade throughout. But it feels completely fitting for a story that, despite taking place largely in other rooms- hospital, cinema, gallery, post office- is always circling the marital bed.

Thorne has found a way to speak the unspeakable, with so much humour and humanity, my heart still hurts thinking about it the next morning.



Reviewed on 19th October 2022

by Miriam Sallon

Photography by Ellie Kurttz



Previously reviewed at this venue:


Rice | ★★★★ | October 2021
While the Sun Shines | ★★★★ | November 2021
Two Billion Beats | ★★★½ | February 2022


Click here to read all our latest reviews





VAULT Festival 2020



Studio – The Vaults

Reviewed – 25th February 2020



“It’s about acceptance, being brave and celebrating all our loves and differences”


When Alex was seven their mum told them about their auntie having a scan to see what sex the baby was. Alex asked if they could have a scan too, to see what sex they were. This tender gender play follows Alex through tough times at school, friendship with their wonderfully sweary mum, love, loss and confusion. Alex , played by Em Thane is brilliant as a mixed up teen, trying to hold their own in a school that doesn’t protect them, and a young person with a life that is made hard by cruelty and wilful misunderstandings. Dean, played by Jahvel Hall calls Alex his girlfriend. He doesn’t know how to behave with them and keeps getting it wrong. His confusion is painful, because he cares. The teacher can’t/won’t use Alex’s pronouns, constantly misgenderng them and blind to the hurt it causes. But Mum Lila is a star, protecting her child with fierce love. Jordan Whyte is really relatable as Lila, not a tiger mother but a lioness, and the scene where she takes on the teacher, played by Sukey Willis, who also plays Erin, is a powerful portrayal of a mother refusing to take any shit as she schools the teacher in how to behave. It made me want to cheer. Erin is a breath of fresh air, and I loved their kooky take on life.

The action is interspersed with Alex taking a microphone and talking about their life. It’s a bit stand up and a bit storytelling, and it really works. Anna Wheatley’s writing sings, never teachy, always feeling real. Ica Niemz’ simple, versatile set is clever and effective and sound and lighting by Brain Rays and Hector Murray paint the atmosphere and delineate the scenes well. At times it was hard to hear the dialogue when the sound was louder and a train passed overhead, but it’s a minor point.

Beige is about finding out who you are, being who you are. It’s about acceptance, being brave and celebrating all our loves and differences. Anyone offended by some very hearty swearing will probably not like it, which is a shame because it’s really rather good.


Reviewed by Katre

Photography by ZiebellPhotography


VAULT Festival 2020



Click here to see all our reviews from VAULT Festival 2020