★★★

“an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect”

Personal Values, a new play written by Chloë Lawrence-Taylor and directed by Lucy Morrison, is an unapologetic depiction of grief and isolation through the lens of two estranged sisters.

Firstly, the set design (Naomi Dawson) is fantastic. The clutter and physical chaos of a house that is so rammed with chachka it has begun to retaliate, is arresting. It’s the palpable manifestation of the grief and self-flagellation central to the emotional nucleus of the piece. And it’s deliberately distracting. For both the characters and the audience, the imposing beast that is hoarding looms throughout, its own character, pulling at everyone. It makes for bleak show. But that is the point, so it’s effective.

Two sisters, now in middle age, are reunited – in a conspicuously constrained space– they bicker and blame and mourn. As confessions unfurl, some of the ice inevitably thaws, and the idiosyncrasies and entanglements of sister relationships are depicted with success. Much of the plot is reliant on reveals, so I shall remain vague, but Bea is entrenched in a life-long Hoarding Disorder, thus imprisoning herself in the family home; Veda, on the other hand, ostensibly escaped, but is suffering her own form of incarceration. Much of the piece is naturalistic, with quick two-handed dialogue. In the middle, it tips into a more abstract angle, which is slightly confusing, but ultimately good for the stakes and the drama. Rosie Cavaliero as Bea and Holly Atkins as Veda are both equally excellent, natural but deeply feeling. The script itself was perhaps a little inhibiting for the actors, its dialogue slightly on the generic side.

The piece has two distinct parts, even without an interval. The first was perhaps the more effective: with its focus on sisters, their estrangement and tensions, matched by years of memories and behavioural patterns, it’s a compelling watch. The second half is slightly flatter, exploring the relationship between Bea and her nephew, Ash (Archie Christoph-Allen), as their suffering mounts. Thus, its ending note of hope felt slightly implausible.

Lighting (Holly Ellis) and sound (Max Pappenheim) were also commendable here: flickering lamps lent an eerie, appropriately ghostly quality, whilst an overhead lit square effectively mirrored the prisons these women have made for themselves. A claustrophobic patter of rain underscores much of the piece: it lends an oppressive quality to the dialogue which is palpable.

Personal Values is an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect. It doesn’t feel quite like a finished product yet, but it certainly explores the quiet tragedy of Hoarding Disorders with subtle grace. The central twist pierces the piece with a further nuance that forces you to reconsider what you just watched, underscoring the naturalism with a darker, more abstract exploration of the spectres of family and mourning.

KING JAMES at Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“a pitch perfect dissection of male friendship, that tender bond painted in violent strokes”

The saying (almost) goes, of all the unimportant things, sport is the most important.

One reason: sport is the lingua franca of male friendship, all those off-the-shelf metaphors and handy comparisons to fill in for intractable thoughts. Those ups, downs, bruises and heartbreaks. Computers talk in code, men channel life through the fluctuating fortunes of the team they follow.

In King James, we track Matt and Shawn on that journey.

First up, we’re in La Cave du Vin in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and Shawn is here to do a deal for Matt’s precious tickets for the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball team, the Cavs. This is 2004, the rookie season of local hero LeBron James and, even now, these cagey strangers sense he’s going to be an all-time great.

And he’s theirs.

What the two men don’t know yet is that they’re going to be yoked together serving in the court of King James for the next 12 years (we time-jump to 2010, 2014 and 2016) and their friendship will reflect the comings and goings of the basketball star.

The goings (as LeBron sensationally quits for Miami Heat) are a betrayal and a trauma; the comings (when he returns to end half a century of Cavs failure) are a time of euphoria. Unless you judge a man’s worth not by his impact but by his loyalty.

Loyalty is everything to Matt. He is fragile, hangdog out of choice, riding a mostly luckless life. He has aspirations but they don’t take him far. He’s over reliant on his careless privilege and indulgent parents.

Shawn is sharper round the edges, more purposeful, but that doesn’t mean he is destined to carve out prosperity. Shawn heads to New York and LA to pursue a writing career (mirroring the playwright’s own life). Meanwhile, in between moments of good fortune, Matt tends his parents’ dusty bric-a-brac shop.

Matt is white, and Shawn black, which doesn’t matter much until Matt lets slip what Shawn perceives as a slur.

In this delicate, conventional two-hander, the chemistry is bro-code standard – funny, deluded and nerdy. (LeBron better than Jordan? Discuss.)

The story marks out tiny gradations of disappointment, how life is a study in the futility and necessity of connection. Tension underpins everything – who’s winning, who’s losing. Under Alice Hamilton’s direction, Sam Mitchell (Matt) and Enyi Okoronkwo (Shawn) – both excellent – capture the tone and rhythm of the script with such elan, every exchange feels like a hand-wrapped gift.

Arguing over the origin of the word “fan”:

Matt: No, it’s for “fan” – like electric fan or something.

Shawn: Why would that be the case?

Matt: I dunno! Because we’re cool?

Award-winning playwright Rajiv Joseph is a Cleveland native and this one’s from the heart. His razor-sharp vignettes – slangy and real – are held together with the scar tissue of a veteran sports fan, full of pangs, longing, and the most dreaded thing of all – hope.

King James is a pitch perfect dissection of male friendship, that tender bond painted in violent strokes. Joseph captures these moments in all their delightful and infuriating folly and significance.

You don’t need to know basketball to love King James. You just need to know a man’s essential sorrow.

PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

★★★

“an unflinching depiction of grief, suffering, and how family can infect”

PERSONAL VALUES

Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd April 2025

by Violet Howson

Photography by Helen Murray

Previously reviewed at this venue:

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

PERSONAL VALUES

KING JAMES at Hampstead Theatre

★★★★

“a pitch perfect dissection of male friendship, that tender bond painted in violent strokes”

KING JAMES at Hampstead Theatre

Reviewed on 21st November 2024

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Mark Douet

Previously reviewed at this venue:

KING JAMES

KING JAMES