★★★★★

“Sharp satire and ebullient humour contrast with raw humanity”

Alexander Molochnikov and Eli Rarey’s chaotic but compelling ‘Seagull: True Story’ explodes in a defiant, politically charged, semi-autobiographical reinvention of Chekhov’s revolutionary classic. If Chekhov holds up a mirror to humanity, Molochnikov and Rarey smash it, reflecting a modern world fractured by political and emotional upheaval.

With a stage apron transformed into a boudoir, ‘Seagull: True Story’ promises a spectacle. But will it be heartfelt and vulnerable, like the haunting opening ballad sung in Russian by a middle-aged man? Or a glittery circus, like the flamboyant MC who crashes the stage yelling “fantastic”? The tension between truth and theatrics permeates each scene as we chart the artistic rise and unravelling of young Russian director Kon and his friend Anton. Their radical interpretation of Chekhov’s ‘Seagull’ is threatened when Putin invades Ukraine. Their choices are speak out, be silenced or leave. Anton chooses the former; Kon the latter. But will Kon find artistic freedom in America? And what will he sacrifice to achieve it?

Inspired by Chekhov’s tragicomedy ‘The Seagull’, ‘Seagull True Story’ offers a fractured, provocative and sometimes unsettling commentary on freedom of expression in our modern world. Creator Molochnikov and writer Rarey unflinchingly reinvigorate Chekhov’s characters and themes, weaving disillusionment, sacrifice, and the conflict between truth and tradition into current geopolitics. Sharp satire and ebullient humour contrast with raw humanity, leaving you off-kilter but deeply affected by the unfolding tragedy. If anything, its pre-Trump penning misses a trick in skirting a sharper critique of American democracy. But with so much to unpack, it earns its pardon.

Molochnikov’s direction conjures contradiction, from pulsating parody to sombre and serious. The most powerful characters display the least humanity. As much is said by a glance as by a monologue. The inspired use of the house curtain, flipping aside to conceal and reveal, is a veil Kon never controls. Most of the action takes place in front of said curtain, the stark stage behind exposing the chasm between art and reality. Characters rushing into the audience and ripping out cables further blur the line between fact and fiction.

Fedor Zhuravlev’s compositions are perfectly familiar and foreign, driving and adrift. Noize MC’s cutting lyrics introduce fresh perspectives into a world of self-absorption, and the group rap sections echo Greek chorus. Ohad Mazor’s contemporary choreography injects expertly executed vitality and flow.

Alexander Shishkin’s set design is both rich and stark, the pre-curtain evoking theatricality, communism, Trumpism, and even exploitation and death; the post-curtain giving way to bare brutalism. Plastic screens and props evoke pollution, suffocation and the flimsiness of truth. Yet it’s also surreal, a bath whizzing through a party and a goldfish bowl sporting a buoyant balloon.

Alex Musgrave’s lighting perfectly echoes these contradictions, ranging from dramatic and effusive to cold and isolating. It effectively creates new spaces in the minimal set. Julian Starr’s sound design adds a continual layer of realism (I especially love the little splashes in the bath), punctuated by showy flourishes which reassert the falseness of the theatre. It’s a little loud in places but the cast’s projection usually overcomes this. Kristina Kharlashkina’s costumes range from realistic to grandiose, some characters true to life and the rest varying significantly in tone and silhouette, especially as war breaks.

The cast is magnificent, bringing this complex piece to life on many levels. Daniel Boyd’s Kon is haunted, his desperation suffocating him as reality closes in. Ingeborga Dapkūnaitė’s Olga is a masterclass in subtext, her initial horror at the war masked by forced cheer, making the silences between mother and son scream. Stella Baker’s Nico brings a knowing edge to her embodiment of the ingénue. Andrey Burkovskiy’s MC manages to bring a menacing quality to his relentless cheer. Elan Zafir’s Anton is heartbreakingly steadfast and the emotional soul of the piece.

Like Chekhov, Molochnikov’s ‘Seagull: True Story’ offers a lot to chew on if you’re up to the challenge. This heartbreaking, mesmerising, unflinching reimagining will haunt you like ‘The Seagull’ haunts Kon.

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

Marylebone Theatre

★★★★

“A wonderful mix – but guilty of being shaken and stirred, which upsets the balance slightly”

Sean Connery is centre stage, flanked by Pierce Brosnan and Roger Moore. Downstage right, Daniel Craig gazes moodily out into the audience while, stage left, Timothy Dalton does the same but with a more sardonic twinkle in his eye. All of them are brandishing a semi-automatic Beretta. Alas, they are just portraits on the walls of the office of Deborah, the fictitious head of the James Bond franchise. But there lies the catch – they are the only real-life characters in an otherwise fabricated comedy-drama, and are constantly referred to. The juxtaposition doesn’t always work, but what it does do is lure the story dangerously close to the truth. Writer Jordan Waller claims that he has chosen not to base his play, “A Role to Die For”, on real life people in order to be ‘unencumbered by facts’. Whilst he might have succeeded (from the libel lawyers’ perspective at least), there is no disguising the protagonists.

Who will be the next James Bond? Back in real life, speculation is rife. In the play, Deborah (Tanya Franks) is just about to announce Daniel Craig’s successor to the baying public, aided and abetted by her cousin side-kick Malcolm (Philip Bretherton). Deborah’s son, Quinn (Harry Goodson-Bevan) is one step ahead and sufficiently entrenched in the new way of thinking to foresee the impending scandal/disaster/farce* (*delete as appropriate). It is a family affair, and Waller brilliantly explores the dynamics of this high-powered dynasty. Deborah (even the name rhymes and scans with her factual counterpart) shares the Bond legacy with Malcolm, inherited from her father – a legacy she seems determined to pass down to her gay, vegan son who brandishes an ‘eat-the-rich’ slogan on his t-shirt.

On the eve of the big announcement, the star lined up to be the new Bond pulls out (cue some double-entendres). It has emerged that he has been a naughty boy. A predator (‘isn’t that a dinosaur?’ asks Malcolm) of girls, many of them on the younger side (where have we heard that recently?). The question of who the emergency replacement will be kicks up the other, more pertinent, question of how Bond can adapt to modern day values. The play throws the issues around in a wonderfully structured way, drawing laughs from the audience on practically every other line. Yes, the debate might be tried and tested, but the stream of witty one-liners and acute character observation have us grinning from ear to ear throughout.

Franks is simply terrific as Barbara (sorry… Deborah – easy mistake). Full of spunk (don’t blame me – I’m just getting into the spirit of the play), she portrays a woman with a man’s ability to spout profanities, but a woman’s ability to use them to greater effect. Ruthless but vulnerable, Franks rises above her quips and soundbites to give Deborah a quite human quality, especially during the more introspective second act. Goodson-Bevan, as the ‘distinctly mediocre nepo-baby’ is far from mediocre in his depiction of a guy torn between social awareness and family loyalty. Bretherton’s Malcolm is hilariously old school. Less calculating, more pragmatic but equally ruthless despite being accused of being a ‘dithering old timer’. Enter Theo, one of two candidates for the role of Bond, who trashes every stereotype you can think of. Obioma Ugoala shines as the well-spoken, well heeled, Cambridge educated actor on whose shoulders the success of the movie franchise rests. Or does it?

Things don’t necessarily go to plan. Set mainly in the head office, with a brief visit to the casting room courtesy of Cory Shipp’s shifting backdrops, the action moves forward at a pace that borders on farce yet is more grounded in pure comedy. Director Derek Bond (no relation) rightly allows little time for the actors to milk the jokes, which enriches the text’s naturalism and flow. Politics, finance, sexuality, race, diversity, media scrutiny, back-stabbing, trolling, integrity, are all scrutinised but the sheer ambition of the content means that the surface is scratched without getting too deep. Nevertheless, it is scathing of the bygone era of film making, but strangely nostalgic too. It is equally mocking of the new climate, but simultaneously respectful. A feat of juggling that writer and performers seem to pull off without dropping the ball. Even when tripping over the occasional cliché.

“A Role to Die For” is sharp, cutting and satirical. Sometimes shocking, nearly always extremely funny. A wonderful mix – but guilty of being shaken and stirred, which upsets the balance slightly. We occasionally wince, but it does go down exceedingly well, and comes with a real kick. Cue the ‘dum di-di dum dum’ guitar riff.

SEAGULL: TRUE STORY

Marylebone Theatre

★★★★★

“Sharp satire and ebullient humour contrast with raw humanity”

SEAGULL: TRUE STORY

Marylebone Theatre

Reviewed on 9th September 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography provided by Seagull: True Story

Previously reviewed at this venue:

SEAGULL

SEAGULL

SEAGULL

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

Marylebone Theatre

★★★★

“A wonderful mix – but guilty of being shaken and stirred, which upsets the balance slightly”

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

Marylebone Theatre

Reviewed on 31st July 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Steve Gregson

Previously reviewed at this venue:

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

A ROLE TO DIE FOR

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