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TOY SOLDIER

★★★

Union Theatre

TOY SOLDIER

Union Theatre

★★★

“Its detailed design, inventive use of space and thoughtful sound work demonstrate considerable theatrical imagination”

Toy Soldier creates a striking physical world in which memory, family and the legacy of conflict collide. Set against the aftermath of the Falklands War, the play follows Jane as she returns to the family home, where the past she has tried to leave behind gradually resurfaces.

The production’s greatest strength is its attention to detail. The set (Hannah Calarco) creates a convincingly run-down back garden, with hay scattered across the ground and rough cloth used to block draughts and cover gaps. These small touches make the environment feel lived-in rather than merely decorative. The lighting (Vittorio Varta) is equally effective, shifting the audience’s focus and marking the passage of time with considerable subtlety. Sound is also used intelligently, particularly in the treatment of the soldier’s damaged hearing: a portable cassette player that has deteriorated into little more than static becomes a simple but evocative reminder of the lasting effects of war.

The video design is ambitious, incorporating extensive real archival material. The production also makes imaginative use of the entire performance space. Voices emerging from different parts of the auditorium and from above expand the world beyond the central playing area, allowing changes of location to be communicated without conventional scene changes. It is an inventive piece of direction (Helen Goodman) that makes the most of the space available.

However, some of these strong design choices are undermined by questions of scale and clarity. The toy soldiers are so small that they are difficult to see, while much of the archival footage projected onto the wooden walls of the set is similarly hard to make out. Given the production’s already imaginative use of projection, larger-scale or more deliberately constructed imagery could have amplified the psychological dimension of the material rather than leaving some of it visually indistinct.

The greater difficulty lies in the writing (Helen Goodman and Joseph Dewey). The considerable amount of archival material does not always feel sufficiently integrated with the dramatic narrative, sometimes creating a disjointed relationship between historical documentation and the story unfolding on stage. The dialogue also lacks enough narrative clarity to consistently anchor the audience, making the central story harder to follow than it needs to be.

The performances similarly struggle to give the characters enough specificity. The actor playing Jane (Faye Bennett) sometimes appears to be signalling her character’s age rather than allowing her experience, care and anxiety for her brother to emerge naturally through the text and physical behaviour. The portrayal of her younger brother, Billy (Matthew Edgar) can feel similarly externalised: rather than consistently suggesting a believable seventeen-year-old, the performance leans heavily into childish mannerisms, occasionally making him seem considerably younger than the character is intended to be.

Toy Soldier is therefore a production where the physical world is often more compelling than the drama within it. Its detailed design, inventive use of space and thoughtful sound work demonstrate considerable theatrical imagination, but the archival material, writing and performances do not always connect with the same precision. There is much to admire in its construction, even if the story itself never quite finds the clarity or emotional weight its subject deserves.

 



TOY SOLDIER

Union Theatre

Reviewed on 5th October 2026

by Sammi Xing

Photography by Dave Bird

 

 

 

 

 

 

TOY SOLDIER REVIEW

TOY SOLDIER

TOY SOLDIER

TOY SOLDIER

Steve

Steve

★★★★

Seven Dials Playhouse

Steve

Steve

Seven Dials Playhouse

Reviewed – 15th February 2022

★★★★

 

“unquestionably funny and also heartbreakingly sad”

 

We need to talk about “Steve”. Or rather Steven. And Stephen. And Esteban (the Spanish form of Stephen). There’s another Steve, too, in Mark Gerrard’s tragicomedy who lurks, unseen, offstage but just as instrumental in the unravelling of the tightly knitted relationships of his namesakes and their best buddies. Even the late Stephen Sondheim is ever present throughout this production, to whom it is dedicated; his music a constant undercurrent, and wisps of his lyrics reverently scattered over the dialogue. There is something elegiac about Gerrard’s bittersweet tale. A parable, almost. Self-aware and conscious of the passage of time.

The play opens with Steven celebrating his 47th birthday in a downtown New York bar. Although not in a fully-fledged midlife crisis, Steven is struggling with the transition into middle age. A stay-at-home Dad, he is also grappling with the notion that his long-term partner is having an affair with his best friend’s partner. Meanwhile his closest confidante, Carrie, is terminally ill. Fuelled by vodka stingers he inevitably spills out his emotions, upsetting his guests and the glasses on the table. But no matter, Argentine waiter Esteban is on hand to clear up the literal and figurative mess. So, too, is the rewind button which replays the scene avoiding the outburst and offering a smoother transition into the unfolding narrative that follows.

[Best_Wordpress_Gallery id=”353″ gal_title=”Steve”]

Andrew Keates’ spirited and passionate direction perfectly mixes a human story with a heightened, almost musical delivery from the characters. Whenever it becomes a touch absurdist we are pulled back into the nitty gritty of everyday life. Infidelity, parenthood, monogamy, mortality, impending death, lost opportunities. We all know the score. We may have heard it before, but Gerrard manages to make it fresher by putting it in the context of same sex relationships. But even that concept, like the play’s protagonists, is reaching a certain age, and Gerrard is cleverly questioning whether the gay community itself might be having a midlife crisis. ‘Where do we go from here?’ he seems to be asking. While celebrating the huge progress made over the decades, there is a whole new set of questions now. Inspired by the passing of the New York marriage bill, Gerrard is reflecting on the double-edged nature of the milestone. “Oh my god, now we can get married. What are we supposed to do with that?”

This is definitely not a ‘be careful what you wish for’ scenario, however. Nor is it a caricature of the gay American Dream. The writing is too sharp for that and at times the sexuality is irrelevant. It speaks to everyone. It is fundamentally about relationships and friendships and how we look out for and after each other. It is unquestionably funny and also heartbreakingly sad. Keates makes us care deeply about the personalities laid bare before us, aided by his impressive cast.

David Ames holds the fort as Steven, hilariously abrasive and camp but deeply caring and easily wounded. Jenna Russell gives an absolutely glowing performance as Carrie, the bold and brazen lesbian confronting her terminal illness with more strength than all the men around her put together. All the performances are exceptional; strongly twisting the dialogue – wringing out the laughs and the tears in equal measure. The highs and lows are mirrored by Ben Papworth at the piano, echoing the emotions with his dynamic and varied accompaniment.

The phrase ‘Once Upon A Time’ is a leitmotif throughout the show that reminds us that this is a New York Fairy Tale – in many senses of the word. But it also reminds us that the happy endings promised are more elusive than we once thought. We have come a long way, Gerrard seems to be saying, but there’s still further to go. But, hey, forget the psychobabble – “Steve” is in essence a hugely entertaining tragicomedy. Sharper than most that cover similar ground, it cuts through societal and sexual divides and then unwittingly sews them together. It appeals to all of us – and is a ‘must see’.

 

 

Reviewed by Jonathan Evans

Photography by The Other Richard

 


Steve

Seven Dials Playhouse until 19th March

 

Previously reviewed by Jonathan this year:
Freud’s Last Session | ★★★★ | King’s Head Theatre | January 2022
A Level Playing Field | ★★★★ | Riverside Studios | February 2022
The Devil’s in the Chair | ★★★★ | Riverside Studios | February 2022
An Evening Without Kate Bush | ★★★★ | Soho Theatre | February 2022
Us | ★★★★ | White Bear Theatre | February 2022

 

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