Tag Archives: Manuel Harlan

TOP GS LIKE ME

★★★

Royal and Derngate Theatre

TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

★★★

“a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised”

Masculinity is under threat… or is it? When algorithms decide what you see and hear, it’s easy to miss when you’ve slipped off the deep end. A sharp tale from Northamptonshire writer Samson Hawkins, ‘Top Gs Like Me’ delivers pointed lessons – even if it feels pitched at younger audiences.

Eighteen-year-old Aidan feels stuck – stacking shelves, sick mum, no dad. Meanwhile best friend Mia’s about to leave for uni with her rich new boyfriend. With no aspirations and little support, he retreats into the internet. And when slick, sharp talking ‘Hugo Bang’ pops up promising answers, he clicks… again and again. What follows is a stark look at how easily the internet can drag someone under, sometimes with horrifying consequences.

Northamptonshire local Samson Hawkins’ second full length play, with dramaturgy by Lauren Mooney, is a timely, sharp eyed look at how easily vulnerable young people can be radicalised. It tackles big topics – disenfranchised youth, the ‘manosphere’, consent – in a way that’s instantly relatable and shows how fast a lonely scroll can turn dark. However, it’s not exactly subtle, with some hard landing points, on the nose dialogue, and a couple of developments lacking setup. Aidan’s hopeful final choice is followed by a rather dark coda – an important if bleak warning. Overall, it feels pitched at younger viewers – though judging by the enthusiastic teens behind me, it works.

Royal & Derngate Artistic Director Jesse Jones, with associate Kitty Benford and movement director Monica Nicolaides, chart Aidan’s slide with real clarity, escalating from casual clicks to a brain full of Bang. Their climactic fused voices and mirrored movements are absolutely gripping. Though the opening drags a little, shifting from a long music sequence into an equally long TikTok montage before Aidan’s first line. The sprawling skate park set, with audiences on both sides, is stunning though the scale and frequent side-on scenes feel more observational than immersive. The twenty-five strong student chorus is an ambitious flourish: their TikToks and multiplying Hugo Bangs are striking, though the group dances add less and aren’t always cleanly delivered. Gemma Boaden’s local accents ground the piece, but Aidan’s muffled diction and the echoey acoustic mean some lines get lost.

Rebecca Brower’s design swings big, turning the auditorium into a full-size skate park with moving platforms and built in lighting – an impressive feat. It looks fantastic, though the action can feel a little distant. Benjamin Grant’s sound design shines in places, especially the opening sequence of inside to outside headphone audio that shows how cut off Aidan already is. The wider soundscape of TikTok hits, tense underscoring and sharp effects complements the action well, but the volume swamps a few lines and the dialogue often echoes. Rory Beaton’s lighting is bold: hidden LED strips flare an angry red wherever Bang lurks, spreading as Aidan sinks deeper, while bursts of colour punctuate key lines before blending into more naturalistic moments. Brower’s costumes are spot on: Hugo’s sharp red suit over a white vest nails the slick on top, sinister underneath vibe, while Aidan’s baggier, dirtier imitation is so feeble it’s almost sympathetic.

The cast is fab. Danny Hatchard’s Hugo Bang steals the show with suave charisma that slowly reveals something far more sinister, culminating in a goosebump inducing climax. Daniel Rainford’s Aidan shows real vulnerability before spiralling out – a strong performance even if a few lines get lost. Fanta Barrie’s Mia offers a grounded counterpoint, supporting Aidan with believable frustration, though her energy plateaus slightly in the final scene. Emily Coates’ Grace deftly plays someone performing a version of herself, navigating the character’s ethical knots with nuance. Finn Samuels’ Charlie balances well meaning warmth with oblivious privilege. David Schaal’s Dave brings a world weary humanity and much needed voice of reason. The Internet Ensemble adds real spark with vibrant TikToks and energetic, if slightly loose, dancing.

‘Top Gs Like Me’ is a heavy hitting but important watch, packed with crucial lessons for younger audiences. Though aimed at a younger crowd, you too may find Bang’s pull hard to resist.



TOP GS LIKE ME

Royal and Derngate Theatre

Reviewed on 28th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

TOP GS LIKE ME

ARCADIA

★★★★★

Old Vic

ARCADIA

Old Vic

★★★★★

“extremely intelligent, stimulating, challenging and fun”

It is rare in the theatre when the question about why jam cannot be ‘unstirred’ from a bowl of rice pudding sets our thoughts on a mind-boggling tangent about the universe. But it epitomises the skill and the beauty of the writing in Tom Stoppard’s “Arcadia”. It is the ‘ordinary-sized stuff which is in our lives, the things people write about – clouds, daffodils, waterfalls, what happens in a cup of coffee when the cream goes in – these things are full of mystery’. Carrie Cracknell’s revival of the 1993 stage play is, indeed, full of mystery. Like a detective story with an abundance of clues that, once in the hands of the protagonists, don’t really lead to the solution they are looking for. Mainly because there is always a counter argument.

The age-old conflicts between science and art, intellect and romance, certainty and poetry, truth and fiction, are explored with beautiful eloquence. Stoppard picks away at our own beliefs, and by setting the play in two parallel eras (the early nineteenth and the late twentieth centuries) he picks away at the fabric of time itself. Many of the issues soar way over our heads as dollops of theories are added to the metaphoric rice pudding. Postulations of quantum mechanics, entropy, chaos theory and Newtonianism, for example, rub shoulders with bawdy humour and ‘carnal embraces’ (aka sex). The subject matter collides like tiny atoms, but far from being chaotic the result is a glorious three hours of theatrical bliss. And a gorgeous tribute to the playwright who died barely ten weeks ago.

The outstanding cast goes a long way in ensuring the watchability of the drama. The play opens in 1809 with the precocious and privileged Thomasina Coverly (Isis Hainsworth) in a light-hearted but deep conversation with her tutor Septimus Hodge (Seamus Dillane). The quality of the performances is established from the outset – both playful and serious at the same time. The dynamics are flirtatious, a touch dubious but somehow chaste. Dillane wears a guilty conscience like a made-to-measure second skin while Hainsworth faultlessly displays a mix of playful childishness, genius and sassiness. In storms the bumbling, wannabe poet Ezra Chater (Matthew Steer on brilliant form) challenging Septimius to a duel in the belief that he is carrying on with his wife (he is). He is also ‘carrying on’ with Thomasina’s mother – we are led to believe. Oh, what a tangled web we weave… Fiona Button wonderfully displays coquettishness and playful attraction despite ruling the manor – and her daughter – with an iron fist.

Cut to 1993 and we are in the same location. The ghosts of the historical characters are hanging in the air as academic Hannah Jarvis (Leila Farzad) is locked in debate with Bernard Nightingale (Prasanna Puwanarajah) over what happened nearly two centuries ago in the very same room. Puwanarajah has some of the best monologues of the play as he charismatically extrapolates his theories; often proved wrong by Farzad’s cool Hannah. Links to the past are provided by the present-day Chloë Coverly (Holly Godliman) and her brother Valentine (Angus Cooper) who seems to be wrestling with the scientific predictions of his forebear Thomasina, but with considerably less ease.

Alex Eales’ design places the action in the round on a slowly moving revolve which mirrors the passage of time – perceptible but simultaneously unnoticed. In this way, the connections between the two time periods are highlighted, aided by Cracknell’s slick, overlapping transitions from one to the other which eventually fuse into a searingly poignant final act as the two merge together in a dreamy waltz. What is revealed ultimately is that, despite the breakthroughs of science, and despite the changing philosophies and beliefs over time; human connection never alters. There is much talk of loss in the dialogue. The loss of belief, of meaning and also of the material artefacts that define us – the books and the architecture of life. What do we look for then?

Yes, “Arcadia” is like a detective story with an abundance of clues that, once in the hands of the protagonists, don’t really lead to the solution they are looking for. Perhaps because what they are really looking for is love. Stoppard dresses it all up in a very wordy but extremely intelligent, stimulating, challenging and fun play. His spirit lives on and, with productions of his work like this one, we can be sure of its longevity.



ARCADIA

Old Vic

Reviewed on 6th February 2026

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Manuel Harlan


 

 

 

 

ARCADIA

ARCADIA

ARCADIA