Tag Archives: Joe Penhall

BLUE/ORANGE

★★★★★

OSO Arts Centre

BLUE/ORANGE

OSO Arts Centre

★★★★★

“Raw, tense and full of dark humour”

At one point in Joe Penhall’s scathing drama, “Blue/Orange”, junior psychiatrist Dr Flaherty asks her patient “Are you out of your mind?”. A little later, her senior consultant asks the very same question of her. This subtle yet significant repetition is typical of Penhall’s writing, in which every word of the script counts. Set entirely within the confines of a hospital meeting room, this sharp and gripping drama turns the tables with dizzying frequency. It is fitting that director Lydia Sax has staged it in the round, allowing the audience to view the dramatic perspectives from every angle. Her expert and concise staging brings each shifting viewpoint into sharp focus.

Written at the turn of the millennium, the narrative focuses on the power battles between the senior consultant Dr Smith (Ciaran Corsar) and the trainee doctor Flaherty (Muireann Gallen). Central to their conflict is the question of whether to release Christopher (Andre Bullock), a patient who believes he is the son of dictator Idi Amin. The script is a quarter of a century old now, but it is striking how much it feels as though it could have been written yesterday. Only small details – such as smoking indoors – remind us of the period setting. Its relevance today still rings loud and clear as it explores mental health, racism, and the power struggles within a crumbling NHS. And by switching the role of Dr Flaherty from the original male to a female character, Sax has added further dimensions that touch on sexism and chauvinism too.

The setting is as stark as the outlook. Just two chairs and a table, on which sits a bowl of oranges. The scenes are punctuated by Gabriel Burns’ punchy soundscape, while his lighting frames the action with a claustrophobic clinicalism. The oranges are bathed in a shaft of blue light. There is more than one reality going on here. Is Christopher’s subjective truth any less real than the medical consensus?

Christopher has been diagnosed with ‘borderline personality disorder’. The key is in the first word. In the play, many borderlines are crossed: professional, personal and political. And consequently, our sympathies are dragged, kicking and screaming, in many directions. It becomes possible to see the other sides clearly and agree with everything even while opposing them. Of course, this verbal chicanery relies on outstanding casting, and this is where this production certainly comes up trumps. Andre Bullock portrays Christopher with outstanding authenticity and attention to detail. Simple tics, restless leg jittering lend physicality to an emotional and mood-swinging excavation of his character that is frighteningly genuine. Dr Flaherty is initially sympathetic to him, despite being intent on upping his sectioning from level two to three in order to detain him further. Gallen’s initially bright-eyed portrayal captures the duplicity remarkably well, uncovering even darker sides as she falls deeper and deeper into the traps she, and others, have dug for her. Corsar, as the man in charge, more openly lays his motives on the table. Dr Smith wants Christopher out, mainly to free up a bed in the hospital. But that is just the tip of the iceberg. Corsar’s powerhouse performance waver’s wildly between haughty reasoning and undisguised manipulation.

Christopher is ultimately a victim, not so much of his condition as the failings of the system that is supposed to treat him. The more Flaherty and Smith circle each other, the more Christopher is caught in the web. It is a powerful indictment, representing the cycle of failure that still spins to this day. That Penhall offers no resolve, no way out, is integral to the story. What saves the play from doom and gloom is the inherent humour and satire, of which the cast have an expert grasp. It doesn’t soften the blows. In fact, it gives them a clearer hook. The racism is shocking, but more shocking is how the two professionals use it as weapons against each other. We are brought back to mind to the question “are you out of your mind?”. Ironically, the person that this is least relevant to is the patient.

“Blue/Orange” is utterly compelling. Raw, tense and full of dark humour, it remains topical for many reasons. You come away almost believing that oranges could be blue, such is the power and authority that this cast bring to the stage. Urgent and entertaining – administered in one potent prescription.



BLUE/ORANGE

OSO Arts Centre

Reviewed on 1st May 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Kinga Dulka


 

 

 

 

BLUE/ORANGE

BLUE/ORANGE

BLUE/ORANGE

SUNNY AFTERNOON

★★★½

UK Tour

SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton

★★★½

“an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off”

Sunny Afternoon tells the story of The Kinks largely on Ray Davies’s terms. With an original story by Davies, whose back catalogue provides the music and lyrics, and a book by Joe Penhall, the musical places Ray firmly at its centre. Other members of the original line-up are present, sometimes vividly so, but this is unmistakably Ray’s version of events, and that perspective shapes both the strengths and limitations of the show.

As with many subject-shaped biographical musicals, darker truths are smoothed over. Ray’s struggles with alcohol are mostly absent, while the band’s volatility is reduced to clashes between Dave and Pete. Ray appears the sensible, buttoned-up genius, Dave the reckless foil, simplifying a far messier reality and veering into myth-making.

Danny Horn plays Ray Davies as an introspective, guarded figure, a musical obsessive whose inwardness is most fully explored through his relationship with Rasa, played with warmth by Lisa Wright. By contrast, the rest of the band are drawn more broadly. Oliver Hoare’s Dave Davies is louche, volatile and impulsive, embodying the excesses of a sex, drugs and rock and roll lifestyle. Harry Curley brings a steady presence to Pete Quaife, though the character remains lightly sketched. Zakarie Stokes’ Mick Avory barely registers in the first act, and his extended drum solo at the start of Act Two feels more like compensation than character development.

Edward Hall’s direction is strongest when focusing on the band’s formation and search for a distinctive sound within the emerging 1960s music scene. The opening contrast between a tuxedoed, doo-be-dooing crooner and the raw energy of The Ravens (their early incarnation) is knowingly artificial but theatrically effective, clearly signalling the shift from the 1950s into the Swinging Sixties.

The narrative moves from the breakthrough of You Really Got Me through mounting domestic pressures for Ray and Rasa to the ill-fated US tour that led to a four-year ban. Back in Britain, Ray confronts depression and legal battles, while also mounting a determined creative resurgence.

The music is integrated in two ways: some songs operate in a musical theatre mode, articulating emotion or narrative shifts, including Dedicated Follower of Fashion as the band get their makeover and Rasa’s aching I Go to Sleep as she struggles alone with a newborn while Ray tours. Elsewhere, songs emerge through writing, rehearsing and recording, with the slow assembly of Waterloo Sunset carrying real anticipation.

There is an emphasis on the tension between creativity and commerce. The system itself becomes the antagonist, embodied by Grenville Collins and Robert Wace, played with affable ineptitude by Tam Williams and Joseph Richardson, and Larry Page (Alasdair Craig), forever doing his best as the grasping intermediary. Eddie Kassner, given a harder edge by Ben Caplan, emerges as the closest thing to a villain, emphasising how the band’s artistic ambition was constantly challenged by financial exploitation. The Moneygoround lands especially well here, naming names and exposing the machinery behind the scenes.

Miriam Buether’s striking three-sided wooden set, stacked with speakers, adapts fluidly to studios, homes and stages, with stars and stripes unfurled during the US tour. Costumes chart the band’s evolution from matching suits to greater individuality. The cast play their own instruments, supported by a small onstage band, lending credibility to the performance scenes.

The second act does run long. The drum solo and a cluster of melancholic moments between Ray and Rasa extend emotional beats that have already landed. As a jukebox musical, Sunny Afternoon occasionally struggles to reconcile musical theatre convention with the sharper edge of The Kinks’ songwriting.

Still, there is real pleasure here. Ray Davies wrote some extraordinary songs, witty, observant and socially alert, even if the show only partially explores that sharpness. Uneven and occasionally self-mythologising, Sunny Afternoon remains an engaging, if qualified, portrait of a band that never found harmony easily, onstage or off.



SUNNY AFTERNOON

Theatre Royal Brighton then UK Tour continues

Reviewed on 17th December 2025

by Ellen Cheshire

Photography by Manuel Harlan

 

 

 

 

SUNNY AFTERNOON

SUNNY AFTERNOON

SUNNY AFTERNOON