★★★

“a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending”

Desire, grief, family, sexually transmitted diseases and much more can be found in this production of Conversations After Sex. Written by Mark O’Halloran, this show unveils how we connect in our modern times and how we deal with whatever life throws at us. Because sometimes distracting ourselves with different physical experiences, like having sex or taking substances, is the only way to stay afloat and not sink.

That’s what our unnamed female character seems to be navigating, as she goes through sexual partners of various temperaments, interests and ages and as she spends wild night after wild night. After they’ve had sex, they discuss about previous or current relationships, life or whatever else comes up once the emotional walls she normally has built up have been lowered, even briefly. More and more is revealed about her till we get a better picture and understanding of her life. Her older sister also joins for a few scenes, giving a bit more of a perspective than what the protagonist would have liked to share.

The pace is steady throughout, not really altering or fluctuating throughout the play. The two main actors find moments of emotional vulnerability and are really present with one another, but don’t really go the extra mile to help the audience engage more. Julian Moore-Cook jumps in and out of all the male characters’ accents and physicalities smoothly and swiftly, which fits with the protagonist’s nonchalant performance. Olivia Lindsay as the female protagonist plays with no exaggerated passion or turmoil, which is intriguing and grounding, but does leave the audience with a sense of hanging, like there were things left unsaid and unfinished. Jo Herbert’s appearance as the sister is brief, yet sobering for us and the protagonist, a voice or reason and a reminder that everyone goes through different struggles.

Under the direction of Jess Edwards, it’s a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending. The main focus is definitely the balance, and imbalance, of the protagonist with her respective sexual partners, but during a heartbreaking moment when her deceased ex visits her while she’s macrodosing, we’re left wondering if this is more about how the human soul breaks apart and the challenges of recovering.

The set (Georgia Wilmot) is simple, efficient and practical. In the middle, a queen-sized bed, all in pastel pink, and in the background, a big wall of neon light that assists with the transitions and dominates the mood of each interaction. Transitions are cleverly choreographed and exciting to watch, with the light changes and music intervals (Bethany Gupwell and Xana respectively), which offer a helpful intro and outro for the many characters we encounter.

In a world where disconnection is more and more prominent, Conversations After Sex has the potential to shine light onto the people hiding behind dating apps, substances and loneliness. The delivery does get stagnant and unspecific, but is entertaining nonetheless.

COWBOIS at the Royal Court

★★★★★

“The trans and queer characters are self assured heroes who inspire awe and universal swoons from cast and audience alike”

The transfer of Charlie Josephine’s Cowbois from the RSC’s base in Stratford-Upon-Avon to London has been hotly anticipated and much trailed and it’s easy to see why.

In a town 100 miles from anywhere, ostensibly on the American frontier, a group of women, children, and a perpetually drunk sheriff, have been left behind by their male townsfolk who have gone off to join the gold rush. A wood panelled bar and four leather bar stools, backed with a sign of ‘no guns, no politics’ is all that’s needed to take the audience to this familiar setting. We’re introduced to each of the women through a prolonged discussion about how the ladies take their grits, with sugar or salt, the cheeky subtext of which sets up for a fantastical journey of gender discovery ignited by the arrival of the outlaw, Jack Cannon.

Playing with the image of the American cowboy, an icon of masculinity, is nothing new. The popularity of films like Brokeback Mountain and The Power of the Dog show how exploring gender and sexuality in this repressively conservative setting works. But where Cowbois differs is in centring the voices of women and trans people in a way that’s uplifting, rather than tragic. The trans and queer characters are self assured heroes who inspire awe and universal swoons from cast and audience alike.

The infamous Jack Cannon, played with swagger and style by Vinnie Heaven, acts as a catalyst for change for all the townspeople in sometimes magical and mysterious ways. De facto leader of the group Miss Lillian, Sophie Melville, is enthralled by Cannon’s charm. Their intense sex scene is deliciously wet and wild, staged under blue light (Simeon Miller) punctuated with moans and splashes from a substage pool. Later events are unexplained and unexplainable, but that’s no bother – this is a fantasy after all.

“There’s plenty of high camp music, movement and costumes that keeps the silliness coming”

Lillian and Jack’s moments of tenderness are sweet but surpassed by those between Jack, Kid, wonderfully played by Lemuel Ariel Adou on press night, and Lucy/Lou, Lee Braithwaite, where the bandit’s arrival inspires a recognition of something in Lucy/Lou that had not before been named. A small but perfectly formed moment.

There’s plenty of high camp music (Jim Fortune), movement (Jennifer Jackson) and costumes (Grace Smart) that keeps the silliness coming. A four-piece band (musical director Gemma Storr) plays on stage throughout that could only have been improved through being more visible, rather than tucked off to the side.

The action of Act I proceeds seamlessly (co-direction Charlie Josephine and Sean Holmes). There’s broad coverage of themes from racial injustice to homophobia to trans bodies but these are all briefly danced over, with characters ready to absorb whatever is presented in front of them with childlike acceptance. This is no criticism – it’s cheering to just be absorbed in the charm and fantasy of the piece rather than having to think too deeply about injustice and inequality. But as the act comes to a close, things do feel like they are going all too well, and as the dancing spirals to a climax, low and behold the smoke clears and the long-forgotten men of the town are there in silhouette having returned to the town.

Act II brings the conflict, along with a barnstorming performance from LJ Parkinson as one-eyed Charlie, but it’s swiftly resolved. Rather than deep and brooding intellectual discussions, mostly the men just seem bemused and ready to accept the collective awakening that’s happened in their absence, before joining in for the gun slinging finale.

Cowbois is a queer western fantasy celebrating individual expression and love in all its forms. Its feminist exploration of gender identity will leave you feeling lighter and more optimistic than when you went in.

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

Park Theatre

★★★

“a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending”

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd May 2025

by Stephanie Christodoulidou

Photography by Jake Bush

Previously reviewed at this venue:

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

COWBOIS at the Royal Court

★★★★★

“The trans and queer characters are self assured heroes who inspire awe and universal swoons from cast and audience alike”

“There’s plenty of high camp music, movement and costumes that keeps the silliness coming”

COWBOIS at the Royal Court

Reviewed on 17th January 2024

by Amber Woodward

Photography by Ali Wright

Previously reviewed at this venue:

COWBOIS

COWBOIS

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