★★★★

“Searching, disquieting and uncomfortably familiar”

Jack Nicholls bursts onto the scene with his debut play, ‘The Shitheads’. Brutal and gripping, it reveals how fiercely our oldest instincts still shape us.

In a distant but unsettlingly familiar age, it’s survival of the fittest. Clare’s family of cave dwellers fear the ‘Shitheads’ outside – stupid, poisonous people who’ll kill you quick. Clare and her family are different – they’re magical (Daddy said so and so did his Daddy). But when Clare meets one by chance, her comfortable reality cracks and uglier instincts come pouring through.

Nicholls lands a striking debut with a humorous, tender folk horror that compellingly captures the ‘us vs them’ mentality. It smartly evokes Plato’s allegory, probes our core urges, and pries open an oppressive system, resonating across countless modern contexts. The narrative builds well, steadily dismantling the mythology and signalling a revolution – though some instincts prove too strong in the end. That said, I find Clare’s contradictory actions a little puzzling at times.

Co direction from David Byrne and Aneesha Srinivasan, with assistant Mayaan Haputantri, leans into the uneasy coexistence of love and death. Bone décor and skull kitchenware reveal the cave dwellers’ casual brutality, and blood that only appears when someone turns is chilling. Yet unmistakable warmth and affection flow beneath. There are wonderfully inventive sections, from Danielle’s clever split reality mushroom trip to a gloriously incongruous disco sequence. Impressively enormous puppets, directed by Finn Caldwell, resurrect ice age megafauna, and a puppet ‘baby’ is pleasingly uncanny. That said, the opening scene could be tighter, with frequent pauses occasionally lasting a beat too long. The well placed, realistically choreographed fight sequences could be ever so slightly sharper. And the front loaded blocking means actors disappear when they sit or lie. Overall, however, it’s fittingly daring.

Asaf Zohar’s composition and sound design create a richly immersive soundscape. Electronic beats, distant rumbles, startling thunderclaps and subtle cave reverb perfectly complement the action, landing with well-balanced precision. Andy Findon’s innocent and skilful flute line is a fitting final touch.

Anna Reid’s design is stunning. The set is full of hidden surprises, large and small. The final tableau feels like a museum exhibit… until human nature proves it can’t be constrained. A widening crack could push the world splintering metaphor even further, but the blend of modern and ancient elements is steeped in significance. Evelien Van Camp’s cleverly modern costumes are equally striking, forcing us to confront themes through a contemporary lens – though I initially wonder if they’re post-apocalyptic. Alex Fernandes’ lighting is superb, full of earthy realism cut with flashes of stark modernity. Caldwell’s puppetry design, co designed with Dulcie Best, is genuinely impressive.

The ensemble cast is excellent across the board. Annabel Smith’s ambiguously aged, utterly charming Lisa nails that blend of childlike curiosity and easy trust. Jacoba Williams charts Clare’s shifting worldview with precision, revealing the dark edge to Clare’s loyalty. Ami Tredrea’s Danielle delivers an impassioned final speech that gives me goosebumps, and makes me believe the leg injury is real. Peter Clements’ ‘Daddy’ is delightfully deranged, held in check by real menace. Jonny Khan’s Greg is wonderfully animated and naïve. Puppetry captain Scarlet Wilderink makes the creatures feel unnervingly alive: you feel baby’s mood changes and the elk’s strength drain away.

‘The Shitheads’ is a startling debut that grabs human nature by the antlers. Searching, disquieting and uncomfortably familiar, it’s a confronting watch that’s absolutely worth the journey.

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife”

How to Survive Your Mother is the newest play from playwright and former journalist Jonathan Maitland, dramatising the work of his 2007 memoir of the same name. Working with director Oliver Dawe, this play explores Maitland’s relationship with his mother, throughout his childhood and early adulthood, as she hot desks her way through different men, and opens up Britain’s first ever gay hotel (this definitely didn’t get enough attention).

Whilst the piece is strewn with moments of humour and astute observation, it was let down by a distinct lack of theatrical action. And by this, I mean a narrative arc; a dramatic structure; a climactic rise and fall, punctuated by catharsis. A play needn’t be a tragedy to necessitate such structures. Perhaps Maitland is jarred by his journalistic instincts, veering into the realm of witty and engaging reporting, but at the expense of theatrical flow. Thus, in lacking direction, the play also lacked pace, making the 90 minutes – sans interval – drag somewhat.

The work lacked that je ne sais quoi that electrifies theatre into life. It felt more like a loose montage of memories of Maitland’s mother’s outrageous displays of narcissism and abuse, than a constructed account of his mother and their relationship. So perhaps, actually, I do sais quoi, and it is the pressing lack of a coherent narrative.

Whilst both play and staging did feel overly busy at times, the set design (Louie Whitemore) and use of props were accomplished and inventive. I especially enjoyed a birthday cake’s transformation into a steering wheel, and shortly after, an airbag.

Within the small cast, majority were multi-rolling, and excellently so, interspersing humour and subtlety into their every character. Personally and perhaps unfairly, I have a long-held vendetta against child actors, and the inclusion of a child (Brodie Edwards and Howard Webb, alternately) in this play did not help to dispel my prejudice.

Maitland has his own role on stage: he appears as himself in the present day action, addressing the audience, and sometimes his wife. At other times, he just circles the stage, or plops himself down in the audience for long stretches. Whilst his self-effacing commentary on both this choice and his lack of acting ability is amusing – and fascinating on a meta-theatrical level – it undermines the dramatic action, detracting focus from the scene itself.

The play, as one would assume, revolves around Maitland’s mother. And whilst he does point out that he has written ‘a play, not a diagnosis’, his mother dabbles in all sorts of textbook narcissism. The problem with narcissists, though, is that they often straddle charisma and malice simultaneously (PSA: I’m not a psychiatrist). The problem with the portrayal here is that, as effervescent as Emma Davies is, Maitland’s mother is consistently selfish, nasty, and completely objectionable. And with the absence of a narrative arc compelling us to her, it’s hard to develop a strong enough interest in both her and her relationship with her son.

It is the lack of coherence and narrative that lets this play down. Despite this, there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife, largely deliberating on the nature of The Female Middle Age Crisis to Trained Therapist pipeline.

Oedipus did a great job of sparking our collective obsession with mother-son relationships, and Maitland’s new play is an interesting addition. But Oedipus also excelled in its very story, without which there is little appeal. How to Survive your Mother, whilst entertaining, needs this appeal if it is to also be affecting.

Tag Archives: Peter Clements

THE SHITHEADS

★★★★

Royal Court Theatre

THE SHITHEADS

Royal Court Theatre

★★★★

“Searching, disquieting and uncomfortably familiar”

THE SHITHEADS

Royal Court Theatre

Reviewed on 13th February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

THE SHITHEADS

THE SHITHEADS

THE SHITHEADS

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER

★★★

King’s Head Theatre

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR MOTHER at the King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“there are some lovely moments, and some laudable dialogue between Maitland and his wife”