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BITCH BOXER

★★★½

Arcola Theatre

BITCH BOXER

Arcola Theatre

★★★½

“this little production still packs a gutsy punch”

Director Prime Isaac sets out their stall early in Bitch Boxer, confining all the action to the ring. Partly this is practical – a ring is bulky and the Arcola studio small – but it also tells its own tale.

Chloe (Jodie Campbell) is a fighter. Even when she’s not boxing, she’s fighting. Her whole life she has put up two fists first and asked questions later.

In case the message still isn’t clear, designer Hazel Low has set up a punch bag in the corner made up – cleverly – of old jeans and shirts, like a doner kebab of compressed cast-offs. Chloe fights everywhere she goes; it is the stuff of her life.

The suggestion that she refashioned her hobby into her attitude aged 11 when her mother left doesn’t entirely convince. But as we meet her years later, Chloe’s motivation is clear-eyed.

She has just lost her dad and her coach. He told her, more than once, you’ve got to fight for the things you love Chloe.

Yes, Dad.

She misses him endlessly.

Meanwhile, a small piece of history is happening round the corner from her Leytonstone home. It’s 2012 and the world’s sporting elite is converging on Stratford where women’s boxing will feature in the Olympics for the first time.

This is Chloe’s destiny now, her one shot at glory, and she has a reason to focus, punishing herself with a gruelling schedule. Burying her hurt beneath fresh bruises.

It’s tempting to call the play a one-hander but that would be to the detriment of the combinations that Jodie Campbell expertly delivers throughout this very physical production.

She works hard – jab, jab, cross, hook. She keeps her head defended and her emotional carapace intact, but the glimpses we do get – at home with tender girlfriend Jamie for example – reveal a sweet young woman, brittle but not broken, grieving but not knowing it yet.

Campbell’s performance is full of charm and swagger even when she’s coming closest to meeting the demands of the play’s overwrought title. Bitchy, maybe, but never a bitch.

So when she’s in the ring, fighting for the championship – energised by Jessie Addinall’s inventive lighting design – we’re rooting for her, not just in this particular contest but in life, which is tougher.

Charlie Josephine’s streetwise script fails to ask the hard questions and there’s an inevitable over-reliance on boxing analogies. But to give that tendency one more round, this little production still packs a gutsy punch.



BITCH BOXER

Arcola Theatre

Reviewed on 25th February 2026

by Giles Broadbent

Photography by Ross Kernahan


 

 

 

 

BITCH BOXER

BITCH BOXER

BITCH BOXER

Wreckage

★★★

The Turbine Theatre

WRECKAGE at The Turbine Theatre

★★★

Wreckage

“Rikki Beadle-Blair directs with a flair that matches the heightened narrative”

 

In Anthony Minghella’s film ‘Truly, Madly, Deeply’, Alan Rickman’s character returns from the dead specifically to help Juliet Stevenson get over him by tarnishing her idealised memory of him. As a ghost, he irritates her and behaves in ways that infuriate her. In Tom Ratcliffe’s “Wreckage”, now playing at the Turbine Theatre, a similar concept is deployed, but without the poignancy of Rickman’s intention. The two characters, dead or alive, seem to spend a lot of time irritating each other, dredging up past (and future) frustrations and misdemeanours. Although in between there are abundant declarations of love and we eventually understand that the shouty tantrums are, in effect, signifiers of grief.

Ratcliffe’s script is finely crafted and chronologically complex, moving between the past, present and future. Sam (Tom Ratcliffe) and Noel (Michael Walters) are in the perfect relationship. Noel, being older, more laid back and assured, is often the one to smooth out Sam’s rattled and jumpy mind. This is established at the outset during which Noel agrees to rush out on an errand to placate Sam, grabbing the car keys, promising to be back in twenty minutes. The scene, and its tragic consequence, is played out multiple times, reflecting the torturous “if only…” reaction that loops in Sam’s mind – possibly forever.

Separated by death, the couple become paradoxically inseparable and what ensues is an exploration of guilt and grief. Ratcliffe effectively portrays the torment of how to cope with loss as he battles with what to cling on to and what (or rather when) to move on. The ‘reality’ of Noel’s ghost in his mind is powerful enough for Noel to take over and control the narrative. The passion brought out in the performances is undeniable, but any true sense of heartbreak is undermined by a complete lack of subtlety. We long for more poignancy and silence amidst the shouting and screaming and writhing.

Despite a reluctance to tone down the performances, Rikki Beadle-Blair directs with a flair that matches the heightened narrative, and with the clever use of video projections and Rachel Sampley’s lighting we are guided clearly through the shifts in time. We witness the couple meeting for the first time, and we are privy to posthumous revelations of infidelity. The influence of in-laws and wranglings of property and possessions are explored in an ingenious fashion by the writing, casting fresh perspective on what would normally be a run of the mill relationship. We are asked to think, and to challenge our preconceptions about how we might cope. But ultimately, as compelling as it is on paper, the emotional connection is left wanting.

The idea is not new, but the execution is innovative. The tag line is “I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you”. Sam is young when he loses the love of his life and he goes on to live a long, fulfilling life. The message is that ‘love never dies’, and they will eventually be reunited. In a hurried finale, we are treated to a slideshow of Sam’s three-score-years-and-ten that lead up to their reunion. It is a lifetime, during which Sam does move on. But is he living a lie all along?

“Wreckage” draws you in, and whirls you around in its turmoil with two (for the most part) terrific performances. But it is strangely unmoving. Petulance too often pushes grief out of the way, while the mixed message gets in the way. The character you most feel for is the underwritten Christian – Sam’s new, lifelong, partner (very briefly played by Walters). He puts up with Sam for life, while all along Sam is yearning for the day that he can join Noel again – for eternity. Really? Come on – you spent most of your time arguing!

 

 

Reviewed on 11th January 2023

by Jonathan Evans

Photography courtesy Harlow Playhouse

 

 

 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

My Son’s A Queer But What Can You Do | ★★★½ | June 2021
My Night With Reg | ★★★★ | July 2021
Diva: Live From Hell | ★★★★★ | August 2022

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