BLINK

King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“an intriguing, confronting piece made for our times”

What does it mean to be seen? In an age of polished online personas, we’re more visible – and invisible – than ever. In its first major London revival since 2012, Simon Paris delivers a sharply human take on online stalking in Phil Porter’s ‘Blink’ – though it could do with a little more bite.

Sophie’s dad dies, leaving her lost and alone; hundreds of miles away, Jonah loses his mother. Several strange coincidences later, they’re living in the same building. Sophie spots Jonah nursing a sick fox and sends him an anonymous gift – a baby monitor livestreaming her living room. Whether what follows is love, co-dependency or stalking, you decide – but you won’t be able to look away.

Porter’s unflinching play premiered in 2012 – before social media was the beast it is now – yet it nails the murky ethics of parasocial attachment, boundary erosion and consent. The script is richly layered, cleverly weaving contrasting takes on the same events, and balancing full circle moments with enough ambiguity to keep you guessing. It’s both creepy and endearing, conjuring sinister imagery as you root for not one but two antiheroes. It’s also very funny, with a bracingly unfiltered edge. Though the masterstroke is our complicity – as their gaze becomes ours, how much responsibility do we shoulder?

Paris’ direction deftly humanises an increasingly familiar – though no less troubling – dynamic. Tiny shifts in body language betray the characters’ true feelings. The breezy detachment around death and depression heightens the core tension between perception and reality. The parasocial bond builds and unravels in several ways – most strikingly the furniture solidifies as the connection deepens. That said, the pacing could be tighter in places – the opening and closing hesitancy works well, but elsewhere the cast pulls back when they need momentum. That breezy detachment, while thematically apt, sometimes leaves moments feeling a touch out of reach. Paris keeps the baby monitor, though would a smartphone ring more true? Still, it’s a commanding take on a demanding script.

Casting social media star Abigail Thorn as Sophie is a stroke of genius, throwing the issues straight into the spotlight. Thorn nails the tortured but inarticulate soul, keeping her true feelings under wraps until they can’t help but break through. That said, some moments feel a touch too restrained, and the pacing could be sharper in places. Joe Pitts’ Jonah is disarmingly creepy. Pitts fully commits to the off beat wildcard, burning with unhinged devotion for Sophie balanced against quieter sincerity. Pitts’ comedic timing is also razor sharp.

Emily Bestow’s design is stunning. The translucent furniture gaining and losing solidity is a clever visual metaphor. The black mirror floor creates the illusion of watching on a smartphone. Matt Powell’s video design sharpens the illicit feel with degraded video textures. Sophie’s fragmented body – zooming in on her eyes, hands, lips – is strikingly voyeuristic. Pre recorded inserts smartly reveal the other character’s perspective, even if the timing occasionally slips. Peter Small’s lighting draws the audience in from the start, with soft house lights keeping us in Jonah’s orbit before shifting to more theatrical settings, creating striking shifts between intimacy and distance. Sam Glossop’s soundscape layers music and subtle tones, with abrupt jolts snapping you back to reality. Costumes are pared back but Sophie’s deliberate return to the off shoulder look suggests her ‘casual’ vibe is anything but accidental.

Paris’ take on ‘Blink’ has flashes of real brilliance, even if it could use a little more punch. Still, it’s an intriguing, confronting piece made for our times that’s well worth catching.

BLINK

King’s Head Theatre

Reviewed on 23rd February 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Charlie Flint

BLINK

★★★★

“a compelling evening”

Is Peer Gynt a play or a poem? When Henrik Ibsen first published his five-act verse drama, Peer Gynt attracted widespread criticism from contemporary figures for its complete disregard of conventional stagecraft and its blend of fantasy and realism. Defending his work, particularly from the hostility of theatre critic Clemens Petersen, Ibsen declared that it ‘is poetry; and if it isn’t, it will become such’.

In the hands of Kåre Conradi, there can be no doubt. He breaks a few conventions himself in his rendition of Peer Gynt’s story, delivering it partly as narrative, partly as lecture, partly in English and partly in his native Norwegian. But what starts as a gentle folk tale of everyday life and the journey of a worthless nobody – albeit with a gift for seducing women – turns into a tense saga that at its heart addresses the eternal question of being and self.

Conradi is something of a polymath in the dramatic world. He is a celebrated stage, screen and television actor, and the founder and artistic director of the Norwegian Ibsen Company. A graduate of the Norwegian Theatre Academy and the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art (LAMDA), he is familiar with Shakespeare as much as Ibsen. He appeared in the TV series Shetland, and stars in the historical comedy Norsemen, on Netflix. For this evening, he took on the roles of producer, writer/adapter and performer.

Peer Gynt the person is hard to like. He is feckless and reckless. He is an egotist with charm and ambition, but doesn’t want to work hard. He uses women in a way that might have them joining them “MeToo” movement these days. He abandons his poor mother and runs away to, notably, Arabia, when life gets a bit too hot for him in Norway. When he returns as an old man, he finally comes face to face with himself in a fantasy during which he is being brought to account for his life. But through all this, he has retained the adoration of the long suffering Solveig. It is she in the end who answers the questions of self and rescues him from eternal perdition.

But he is also an ‘Everyman’ in whom we might see reflections of ourselves. Conradi first encountered Peer Gynt aged 17 and over the years has developed a deep connection to the character. He brings him to us in a monologue on a simple spotlit stage lasting just over an hour. During this time he switches effortlessly from storyteller to actor; sometimes, in the latter persona passionately proclaiming his justification for just ‘being himself’; sometimes skilfully lacing together the characters of the story. Then, as narrator, he will make a humorous aside aimed at a 21st century audience. He avoids declamation (at one moment he catches himself overacting) and he drops suddenly into a linguistic to and fro – often, it was hard to tell whether he was talking in English or Norwegian.

What began as – potentially – a challenging hour, soon became a compelling evening, thanks to Conradi’s gifts. This was a bravura performance, with poetry at its core.

Tag Archives: Review

BLINK

★★★

King’s Head Theatre

BLINK

King’s Head Theatre

★★★

“an intriguing, confronting piece made for our times”