Tag Archives: Jonathan Evans

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

★★

Tabard Theatre

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

Tabard Theatre

★★

Girl Out of the Blue

“ultimately, we are left with the feeling that the play itself has yet to find its own identity”

Giles Cole’s “Girl Out of the Blue” opens with a seventeen-year-old girl meeting a fifty-something man in a bar. She is there under false pretences. He, a journalist, thinks she has a story about domestic abuse to offer him. She has another agenda entirely. When she drops the bombshell that she thinks she is his daughter, his reaction is complex. We know it is coming (it’s in the first line of the poster copy), but he also betrays a certain prior knowledge, despite claiming that the news is ‘out of the blue’. The episode sets the tone of the piece. The secrets revealed are (secretly) common knowledge already.

Except for Abi (Miranda Braun) perhaps, who is entering adulthood having been brought up by her overbearing single mother Beth (Sarah Berger). Understandably she wants to discover her biological father. Less understandably, she finds a phone number in an old address book of her mother’s and immediately assumes she has the answer. Doug (Jonathan Sidgwick) – for it is he who is the alleged father – pretends not to have known about his daughter. His wife Maya (Seeta Indrani) also feigns outrage at the discovery, although that is also a pretence. Abi’s mother starts out claiming that Doug never knew – but that, too, is a lie. Oh, what tangled webs we weave.

The layers are peeled back like an adult ‘pass the parcel’. Each short scene is punctuated by William Godfree’s light piano melodies. When the music stops, we have the next unveiling. But the anticipation and the tension are lacking and the heightened emotions the characters are aiming for are beyond reach and consequently unbelievable. The intention is there but the delivery is inconsistent. The most convincing is the mother and daughter relationship. Braun and Berger spar well and make up better, a mutual tenderness visible beneath the arguments. There is little affection, however, between Doug and Maya. Sidgwick’s loveable rogue might have the audience on his side, but his wife is having none of it. Indrani’s ice-queen is unwavering, yet equally unconvincing and locked into one rigid pose. Unfortunately, many of her lines are lost, too, through poor projection.

Cole’s writing hovers between sitcom and soap, circling each other without really getting to the heart of the matter. Jonas Cemm’s static direction accentuates this lack of conviction. The questions are raised but then left suspended and we become rather baffled, while we are never granted full access to the characters’ beliefs and emotions. Histrionic outbursts are seldom more than lines on a page. The humour, however, is a saving grace, of which Berger is adept at dishing out with a wry, slightly tipsy, twinkle in her eye. Braun, too, has fun taunting the adults and mocking the perversity of ‘grown-up’ moral standards. Sidgwick has his work cut out as the only male running the gauntlet of feminine antipathy. We can definitely see the potential for more comedy without sacrificing the importance and complexity of its key topics.

There is something intrinsically and dramatically powerful in the revelation of secrets that are already known. The angst of the build-up to confession, followed by the twist that the confidante is one step ahead. “Girl Out of the Blue” ironically tries to build on this concept. She is not out of the blue at all. Similarly, though, the play itself has little that is unforeseen or unexpected in its narrative structure. A late insertion concerning an alleged historical harassment case is touched upon, but its impact is subdued. The deliberately mundane and anticlimactic ending is refreshing by contrast, and a nice closure to the emotional upheavals of these four characters in search of answers and identity. But ultimately, we are left with the feeling that the play itself has yet to find its own identity.



GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

Tabard Theatre

Reviewed on 25th September 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bethany Blake


 

 

 

 

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

GIRL OUT OF THE BLUE

THE URMETAZOAN

★★★

Hampstead Theatre

THE URMETAZOAN

Hampstead Theatre

★★★

“a very human story about letting go”

“Where is everybody?”, asked the Italian-American physicist, Enrico Fermi, back in 1950. It is a question that goes back much further than that, but it is at the core of what is now known as the ‘Fermi Paradox’. Given the inconceivable number of stars in our Milky Way – and beyond – there is surely a high statistical likelihood that intelligent life exists somewhere out there; yet there is a total lack of evidence of it (a bit like the argument for time travel – if it exists, why has nobody come back to us from the future yet?). Most of the stars we see are much older than our sun, so advanced civilisations have had plenty of time to develop and colonize the galaxy. Yet where are they?

There are several theories, but none of them quell our innate desire to go out there and investigate. It is not necessarily at the core of our beings, but it is constantly bubbling away underneath. Similarly, the topic isn’t central to Alex Rugman’s new play, “The Urmetazoan”, but it’s a starting point. It focuses on two sisters; Alice (Dorothea Myer-Bennett) and Abigail (Meghan Treadway) who are worlds apart. They haven’t seen each other for seven years, but have come together for, perhaps, a last farewell. Alice is about to embark on a one-way mission into outer space.

We don’t know why they haven’t been in touch for so long. They weren’t ‘not talking’, as Alice observes, it’s just that they didn’t speak. Aspects of their relationship are touched upon but seldom followed through. When Alice says her departure – for ever – isn’t like death, Abigail disagrees. When Alice asks if she would prefer her to be dead on earth or alive ‘out there’, Abigail skirts the question. Rugman’s writing drives headlong into its various issues, but then sidesteps them somewhat in its quest for quirkiness. There are keen observations, nevertheless, and his portrait of the sisters’ bond is as sharp as it is authentic.

Myer-Bennett and Treadway match the dialogue with wonderfully natural performances, their lines and emotions overlapping in time to their shifting moods. Resentment and affection ebb and flow like tidal waves while verbal outbursts are pulled back by softer undertows and awkward pauses. The faltering connection is echoed by the frequent and abrupt blackouts that punctuate the short scenes. Anna Ledwich directs with wonderful stylistic flourishes. Each time the lights come back up, the sisters reappear in a slightly different time or space, as though in a parallel universe. Our own connection to the characters suffers slightly as a result, however, and the realism is sometimes broken. Yet ultimately the relatable performances draw us back in. We are like flies on the wall.

Alice isn’t just leaving her sister behind. There’s a guy. Will (Ben Allen), an astrobiologist who dropped out of the space mission. His initial presence is fleeting and insubstantial, but he returns later to flesh out the dynamics with more success. Alice has already left to prepare for the launch into space. Will has turned up at the house to collect a few things, to find Abigail alone. I shall say no more. The hasty unravelling veers towards the baffling and we start to lose sight of the characters’ motives. Myer-Bennett, however, beautifully portrays the fear that her imminent departure induces. Cold feet? They are positively frozen.

Tomás Palmer’s living room set has been gradually and surreptitiously stripped bare until we are eventually in the launch pad quarantine room. Alice and Abigail are separated by thick glass but that only emphasizes their closeness. There is reconciliation, maybe, but no real resolution. The questions posed at the beginning still loom large and unanswered. But that’s the way it has always been. “Where is everybody?”. The universe is so vast, are they all just too small to see? Like us. The title of the play refers to that impossibly unlikely link between basic single cell life and multi-cellular organisms that, over billions of years, gave rise to consciousness and intelligence. The ancestor of all life, as it were. An odd choice of title for Rugman’s play but, like the text, a good conversation piece. Myer-Bennett and Treadway are masters at capturing this conversational tone and Rugman builds well on this germ of an idea. What has evolved is a very human story about letting go.



THE URMETAZOAN

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 24th September 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Rich Lakos


 

 

 

 

THE URMETAZOAN

THE URMETAZOAN

THE URMETAZOAN