★★★

“a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending”

Desire, grief, family, sexually transmitted diseases and much more can be found in this production of Conversations After Sex. Written by Mark O’Halloran, this show unveils how we connect in our modern times and how we deal with whatever life throws at us. Because sometimes distracting ourselves with different physical experiences, like having sex or taking substances, is the only way to stay afloat and not sink.

That’s what our unnamed female character seems to be navigating, as she goes through sexual partners of various temperaments, interests and ages and as she spends wild night after wild night. After they’ve had sex, they discuss about previous or current relationships, life or whatever else comes up once the emotional walls she normally has built up have been lowered, even briefly. More and more is revealed about her till we get a better picture and understanding of her life. Her older sister also joins for a few scenes, giving a bit more of a perspective than what the protagonist would have liked to share.

The pace is steady throughout, not really altering or fluctuating throughout the play. The two main actors find moments of emotional vulnerability and are really present with one another, but don’t really go the extra mile to help the audience engage more. Julian Moore-Cook jumps in and out of all the male characters’ accents and physicalities smoothly and swiftly, which fits with the protagonist’s nonchalant performance. Olivia Lindsay as the female protagonist plays with no exaggerated passion or turmoil, which is intriguing and grounding, but does leave the audience with a sense of hanging, like there were things left unsaid and unfinished. Jo Herbert’s appearance as the sister is brief, yet sobering for us and the protagonist, a voice or reason and a reminder that everyone goes through different struggles.

Under the direction of Jess Edwards, it’s a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending. The main focus is definitely the balance, and imbalance, of the protagonist with her respective sexual partners, but during a heartbreaking moment when her deceased ex visits her while she’s macrodosing, we’re left wondering if this is more about how the human soul breaks apart and the challenges of recovering.

The set (Georgia Wilmot) is simple, efficient and practical. In the middle, a queen-sized bed, all in pastel pink, and in the background, a big wall of neon light that assists with the transitions and dominates the mood of each interaction. Transitions are cleverly choreographed and exciting to watch, with the light changes and music intervals (Bethany Gupwell and Xana respectively), which offer a helpful intro and outro for the many characters we encounter.

In a world where disconnection is more and more prominent, Conversations After Sex has the potential to shine light onto the people hiding behind dating apps, substances and loneliness. The delivery does get stagnant and unspecific, but is entertaining nonetheless.

THE LEAST WE COULD DO at the Hope Theatre

★★★★★

“The trio of actors are incredibly strong, lifting the superb material even further”

This is a Greek tragedy set in the internet age. Three showbiz-adjacent characters Levi, Charlie and Kieran are pulled inevitably into a whirlpool or chaos from a chance meeting and a hubristic decision. Less Pandora’s box opened, more like Pandora’s phone.

The plot has obvious parallels with the devastating story of Caroline Flack, a presenter whose downfall coincided with aggressive press speculation about her private life. However writer Kath Haling skilfully uses this more as a tragic departure rather than a blueprint, which avoids any mawkishness. She has sensitively woven in other themes (there’s a big trigger warning for pregnancy loss) to create something new, asking deep questions about trust, integrity, and grift. Not only is it about the symbiotic relationship between fame and press, but also about the voyeuristic interest in the process from ‘nobody’ people. Even the stage set up supports this, with scenes played out an arm’s length away from the front row of the audience that closes in claustrophobically around the performance area on three sides.

Designer Tallulah Caskey’s main set feature is a curved chain curtain that sweeps the stage. This acts as a semi-permeable barrier, a metaphorical and physical reminder of liminality and choices taken or not. Characters are occasionally lit to great effect translucently through the chains, before they are once again obscured (lighting design, Hector Murray). Ghostly conversations between people on both sides of the barrier are another nod to Greek drama, the challenging voices of conscience or a chorus of online voices. There are also three reflective blocks, used well by Director Katharine Farmer to offer different levels to the performance, and keep high energy and visual interest throughout.

The trio of actors are incredibly strong, lifting the superb material even further. Dan Wolff embodies blundering naivety as he stumbles into a situation above his head. Olivia Lindsay is magnetic as TV host Levi, with the perfect ‘It’ girl vocal fry. She gets the balance just right between the approachable familiarity of a prime time presenter, steeliness, and then when she reveals her depths, there is a wanting vulnerability that leaves just enough edge to leave the audience questioning whether she has planned her trauma as an ‘angle’. Melissa Saint completes the cast as Charlie, again utterly radiant, but with the potential for slipperiness hinted by her silk blouse. Everything appears so considered that I was left wondering whether the ‘French tuck’ of her shirt was yet more symbolism, showing her half in and half out of the celebrity world, or conversely her marriage. Though that might be me getting ahead of myself, what is clear is that in many key moments, Saint’s incredibly expressive face works through complex emotions in real time, a joy to watch, even if there is little to celebrate in the plot.

Given the heavy themes, this show does an excellent job at avoiding preaching. There is enough grey area and ambiguity left to avoid painting by numbers apportioning of blame, again very Greek.

If there is any morality message to be extracted, it is the reminder to be kind, especially if you are too obscured by the internet. With that, I must leave this review on a solely positive note: this is an exceptionally well thought out production, rich with details that stay lodged in your brain long after the lights go down.

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

Park Theatre

★★★

“a play that focuses more on glimpses of intimacy and character variety rather than any tangible plot with a clear ending”

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

Park Theatre

Reviewed on 2nd May 2025

by Stephanie Christodoulidou

Photography by Jake Bush

Previously reviewed at this venue:

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

CONVERSATIONS AFTER SEX

THE LEAST WE COULD DO at the Hope Theatre

★★★★★

“The trio of actors are incredibly strong, lifting the superb material even further”

THE LEAST WE COULD DO at the Hope Theatre

Reviewed on 12th October 2023

by Rosie Thomas

Photography by Lidia Crisafulli

Previously reviewed at this venue:

The Least We Could Do

The Least We Could Do