★★★

“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.

FAREWELL MR HAFFMANN

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Tension and relief are hallmarks of this production as director Oscar Toeman steers us through the shifting moods with slick clarity”

There is a recurring line in Jean-Phillipe Daguerre’s play, “Farewell Mister Haffmann”, that is reprised by nearly all the characters at some point. ‘Courage is stronger than fear’. The quotation could have come from the hand of Mark Twain, Martin Luther King or Nelson Mandela. In some paraphrased version it has probably been cited by many of our respected world leaders and philosophers. It carries the danger of becoming a glib, self-help-manual style platitude, but in the context of this play (translated by Jeremy Sams) it is a crucial motif. Sometimes delivered comically, but more often with poignancy; it exemplifies the fearless way in which Daguerre tackles his subject matter – turning a global narrative into an intimate, human story that is funny – almost farcical. But don’t be complacent. It can suddenly turn on you with the unpredictability of a dangerous dog.

Inspired by Daguerre’s great-grandparents who hid Polish Jews from the Nazis, it is set in Paris over two years from May 1942. Joseph Haffmann (Alex Waldmann), having sent his wife and children to Geneva, decides to hand over his jewellery shop to his loyal, hardworking, non-Jewish assistant, Pierre Vigneau (Michael Fox). It comes with a condition, however. Pierre and his wife Isabelle (Jennifer Kirby) must agree to move into Joseph’s house and hide him in the cellar until normality is resumed. A further twist has Pierre lay down his own condition. His marriage is childless. Unable to get his wife pregnant, he asks Joseph to do the honours as his side of the bargain.

It is all very matter of fact. The scenes flash by in a series of short bursts. Patently, Isabelle is initially reluctant of the proposition made by her husband on her behalf. Less obviously, Pierre is modestly reticent to take over the business. The conversations are awkward and wrought with moral dilemmas. The decisions are made during the semi-dark scene transitions, so we see the causes and the consequences. Kirby is marvellous as Isabelle, presenting the fragile façade that all is well, but letting us know that it will shatter at any moment. Fox’s Pierre, nervous yet jovial at first, slips into angst and jealousy. Whilst his wife does the ‘deed’ with Haffmann, he goes out tap dancing; a routine that he uses to distract himself from what’s going on in the cellar. As the months go by, the dance steps acquire more and more freneticism. All three performances remarkably show the unravelling nature of each personality as the stakes are raised.

It is a jagged little piece. Not every issue is followed through successfully, but the character arcs are well formed. This feels very much like a three hander. Until art-loving, Nazi ambassador Otto Abetz (Nigel Harman) arrives at the eleventh hour. His presence has already been felt and has been a major source of contention between the others so far. Everything changes when Otto arrives for dinner, along with his loose-tongued wife, Suzanne (Jemima Rooper). A dinner served with huge side orders of tension, broken only by Suzanne’s coarse and tactless interjections. Rooper is a sheer delight with her precise comic timing and delivery. Harman, however, keeps her in check with a performance that chills. We teeter between wanting to laugh or letting our jaws drop to the floor in shock. The stillness of Harman’s portrayal conceals a simmering and dangerous mind.

The shift in tone works remarkably well as we are caught as much off guard as the characters within the play. Tension and relief are hallmarks of this production as director Oscar Toeman steers us through the shifting moods with slick clarity; while Asaf Zohar’s sound and Christopher Nairne’s lighting slice the action into glorious bit-sized vignettes. It is a unique portrayal of a much-explored piece of history, made all the more pertinent and unsettling by its light-hearted intimacy. A hasty epilogue slightly dampens the overall effect, but is arguably necessary to cement where Daguerre’s – and our – sympathies lie. We can only imagine the choices people had to make at such a perilous time in history. “Farewell Mister Haffmann” fires our imaginations brilliantly and powerfully. Refreshingly short and sharp but full of savage twists, it is shockingly funny.

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

FAREWELL MR HAFFMANN

Park Theatre

★★★★

“Tension and relief are hallmarks of this production as director Oscar Toeman steers us through the shifting moods with slick clarity”