Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

HIT MACHINE

★★★★

Soho Theatre

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HIT MACHINE

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“the writing is witty and natural, delivered with authenticity by the actors”

For a play that is not much longer than the average long playing record, playwright Jonathan Caren’s “Hit Machine” crackles with more energy and tension than any piece of vinyl could ever hope for. The scratches embedded in the narrative never halt the narrative’s momentum; instead, the slight jumps make us look at the protagonists in a different way. Caren scours the grooves of his story – set in the modern-day music industry – with a very sharp needle.

The days of 45’s and 33’s are long gone – instead we are in today’s climate of streaming and viral videos (the latter adding an integral layer to the plot). Two brothers are meeting for the first time in quite a while. Wes (Josh Radnor) is a successful music producer, who seems to have lost his mojo, living beyond his means in a nine-bedroom house somewhere in America. His younger brother, Alex (Noah Galvin) has turned up with his head full of hit-song ideas, but empty pockets. He’s not holding out a begging bowl, as Wes suspects though. Just a plea for his songs to be produced. The fact that he is forcibly discouraged by his big brother is a rich theme in itself as it dredges up past rivalries and collaborations; but the play focuses on darker and more personal issues that shape their personalities.

They share the same upbringing, but with very different reactions to it. An abusive father looms large, but the memories are refracted in blindingly opposing directions. Wes was driven towards a means to accumulate wealth to escape, Alex just needed a dream to chase. Caren doesn’t give out too many details, but we certainly feel the essence as the pair duel like manic musicians fighting for their solo. Alex is – initially at least – the more vulnerable underdog, with Galvin giving him a wonderful neediness that is never obsequious. He can certainly give as good as he gets, and Galvin’s shift from rejection to determination is matched by his seamless shifts from anguish to humour. Josh Radnor’s Wes should have the upper hand, but his character’s insecurities keep pulling him down. Radnor gives a masterful performance of a man clutching at anything that will keep him afloat. Even if it means casting off the weight of his past – which includes his brother’s reliance on fraternal support.

Caren throws a third character into the mix. The rising star, ‘Defy the Leader’, has just been signed to Wes’ record label. A cool portrayal by Khalil Madovi, he adds further fuel to the fires that burn in the hearts of the brothers. When ‘Defy’ shows interest in Alex’s tunes, much to Wes’ horror and disapproval, Madovi very cleverly and subtly shows his character’s disdain towards the elder brother’s fragile self-importance.

Throughout, the writing is witty and natural, delivered with authenticity by the actors. Daniel Bailey’s direction enhances the dynamics, throwing the light and the shade into sharp contrast. He knows when to go for the laughs, and when to switch the momentum away from the comedy. There are, indeed, some devastating moments in the dialogue, especially later when the sparks truly threaten to ignite the tinder box of emotions. A moment of physical violence unfortunately dampens the effect, and could perhaps be dispensed with. Coming to actual blows is less powerful than the language. Contrary to the popular catchphrase, words often do hurt more than sticks and stones.

For a play about the record industry, the music itself takes a bit of a back seat. Instead, though, it slots effortlessly into the dialogue; almost conversation pieces in themselves. Unresolved ideas and chords emerge like memories, or even forewarnings, until the pieces come together for a thrilling finale, performed by Madovi (who co-wrote the music with Ben Harper and CJ Harper). At least the music finds its resolution (I’m not giving any more away).

What makes a hit record, is a question that has eluded producers since the first hit parade was introduced. Similarly; what makes a hit play? Again, the answer is vague, but Caren’s “Hit Machine” is sure to rise up the charts.



HIT MACHINE

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 14th July 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bautista Araya


 

 

 

 

HIT MACHINE

HIT MACHINE

HIT MACHINE

TWELFTH NIGHT

★★

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

Reviews, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

TWELFTH NIGHT

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

★★

“The physicality is wonderful, yet there is a creative laziness that obstructs the romanticism, and the magic”

There are worse places to be, during this current heat wave, than sitting on a garden bench under the trees in the gardens of St Paul’s Church, tucked away behind the cafes and shops of Covent Garden. Known affectionately as the Actor’s Church, there are memorials to stage and screen legends, including Charlie Chaplin, Vivien Leigh and Boris Karloff. The home of candlelight concerts and theatrical performances, its Portico façade is also the backdrop for the renowned street performances that attract crowds from around the globe. The churchyard can only be reached via the recessed, inconspicuous gates on the other side. A van selling cool drinks is parked close to the steps, while theatre goers slowly find their seats. The sun has dipped behind the skyline, but the day’s heat still rests on the grass, and the church bells strike seven, heralding Nonsense Theatre’s take on Shakespeare’s “Twelfth Night”.

Their entrance is a touch subdued, diffident even, in contrast to their promotional pitch which promises a mix of Monty Python, Robin Hood, Pirates of the Caribbean, the Princess Bride and a Knight’s Tale. Not just a blend of influences but, in their own words, the ‘lovechild’ of this orgy of absurdity. A grand claim. There is a fine line between nonsense and lack of meaning, however, and this company err towards the latter. Too many references evoke a lack of thought rather than any cohesive decision making. They are on a mini tour of country gardens, halls and castle grounds, but the luxury of the peaceful, English countryside hasn’t prepared them for the bustle of the metropolis. With no amplification, they struggle to be heard above the buskers in the piazza and the street sounds. With only a couple of exceptions, the eight-strong cast appear to find no need to adapt to the acoustics, nor – as it happens – to make particular use of the surroundings on offer. The show has the air of a group of friends pitching up in somebody’s garden to throw ideas around.

Niamh Handley-Vaughan directs (she also plays Maria) but there are all the hallmarks of a collaborative effort. Albeit one with little time, or budget, to consolidate the melting pot of ingredients. Too many cooks is a phrase that comes to mind. We are shipwrecked on the ancient and dream-like kingdom of Illyria, where the natives sing Irish sea shanties as well as modern pop songs. Olivia (Jericho Taylor) is dressed like Guinevere but elsewhere there is little to suggest medievalism – unless you count the clacking of coconut shells to conjure a horse’s gait. Malvolio is Malvolia (Chloe Orrock, who doubles as Antonio… renamed Antonia) but, although the gender is also switched, Tobi (sic) Belch (Kitty Mason) is still a ‘sir’. Blind casting is stretched to the limit when it comes to the twins; Viola and Sebastian. A brave decision to subvert the notion of physical resemblance, which could enhance the comedy of errors wrought by mistaken identity, yet it fails to buoy up our suspension of disbelief.

Despite the occasional gender-flips, the subtleties of Shakespeare’s homoeroticism fall flat. But then again, so do many of his lines. The bizarre soundtrack barely reaches the front row of the benched seating, played by various cast members like teenagers tentatively strumming in their bedroom. Projection appears to be an alien concept to this troupe. Although Orrock’s Malvolia stands out, injecting some much-needed midsummer madness into the evening. But even so, the comedy is a touch contrived.

It’s a long night. By interval the church clock is striking nine. The shadows are stretching across the lawn as dusk dims nature’s lights. This could become a magical moment, but aside from the church’s own festoons, the company plough on without rhyme, reason or lighting design. There is plenty of energy, and also plenty of audience members who reward the performers’ enthusiasm with genuine affection. The physicality is wonderful, yet there is a creative laziness that obstructs the romanticism, and the magic. And, yes, it could be shortened. We should be left wanting more by being offered less. But ultimately, we were left hoping that the curtain call precedes the ten o’clock chiming of the church bells. It does, but only just.

 



TWELFTH NIGHT

St Paul’s Church Covent Garden

Reviewed on 9th July 2026

by Jonathan Evans


 

 

 

 

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT

TWELFTH NIGHT