Tag Archives: Scott le Crass

THE OLIVE BOY

★★★★

Southwark Playhouse Borough

THE OLIVE BOY

Southwark Playhouse Borough

★★★★

“a punchy yet poignant reflection on life after loss”

Grief takes many forms. For writer performer Ollie Maddigan, it’s his debut play ‘The Olive Boy’ – a frenetic yet powerful portrait of a teen wrestling with the sudden loss of his mum. Inspired by true events, the piece deftly melds humour, sex, pain and hope as the Olive Boy learns to live again.

Fifteen-year-old Olive Boy – nicknamed after born a little green – crash lands in a new life and school after his mum’s sudden death. Though what starts as a banterous, hormone-drenched tale of fitting in is repeatedly derailed, forcing him to confront the unwelcome truth. As horny as it is heartbreaking, you’d be wise to bring tissues – they’ll come in handy one way or another.

Presented by Free Run Productions and Shoddy Theatre, Maddigan’s one-person play is commandingly written, tightly constructed and full of layers. Swagger collides with awkwardness; grim events are undercut by jarring cheer; a wildly irreverent tone conceals devastating gut punches. Most impressively, complex mental defences are rendered with startling clarity, and real experiences are dramatised with flair. It’s also outrageously funny, albeit firmly in teen humour territory – think ‘The Inbetweeners’ but with more thrusting and retching. Thankfully, hyper horny teen bravado gives way to a “sweet pure boy” in the end.

That said, a few tweaks could make the piece even punchier. The Dalek-esque interrogations could be developed further as the play progresses. The final monologue to mum, though undeniably heartfelt, skirts cliché – especially with its choice of music. Peripheral characters remain 2D, particularly the nameless female love interests, and dad only comes into focus in the closing section. Still, the core of Olive Boy’s inner struggle is deftly captured.

Scott Le Crass’ astute direction sharpens the show’s contrasts, with elastic pacing and well judged physicality driving each tonal shift. The movement direction is equally skilful, ranging from farcical exaggeration to unembellished sincerity. The surprising opening scene yanks us straight into the story, though I wonder whether the fading audience involvement is intentional. Still, the overall staging is fluid and impressively polished.

A couple of slight technical falters, such as mistimed light cues and freezes in the final video, briefly knock tonight’s flow, but overall the design really brings this slick one-hander to life.

The stripped back set design – essentially a single green chair – keeps the focus firmly on Maddigan and gives him free roam of the space. Before long, the sparseness disappears into Maddigan’s oversized presence and sharp tech design.

Adam Jeffery’s lighting design makes masterful use of a deceptively simple setup, shifting through an impressive spectrum of moods with real creativity. The occasional flare straight into audience eyes is a little blinding, though could be intentional in those disorientating moments.

The sound design is carefully crafted, weaving in music and effects at just the right moments. That said, the final music choice feels a touch cliché in an otherwise raw moment.

The Olive Boy’s simple school uniform pleasingly reinvents itself through subtle tweaks. Though someone please cut the tacking stitch on the jacket!

Ollie Maddigan delivers a standout performance as The Olive Boy, pairing slick humour with an elastic, Jim Carrey esque physicality. His range is undeniable, snapping between characters with precision – even if many of them are more pastiche than subtle portraits. His comic timing is razor sharp, instinctively knowing when to skewer a moment and when to let the tension breathe. In a brief burst of ‘The Music of the Night’, he even reveals a confident singing voice. Ronni Ancona’s distorted Voice adds a pleasingly menacing jolt of disorientation.

‘The Olive Boy’ will make you laugh and cry, delivering a punchy yet poignant reflection on life after loss. Maddigan’s talent is unmistakable so catch him while you can!



THE OLIVE BOY

Southwark Playhouse Borough

Reviewed on 16th January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by  John Blitcliffe


 

 

 

 

THE OLIVE BOY

THE OLIVE BOY

THE OLIVE BOY

POSSUM TROT

★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★

“the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed”

Apparently, there are five Possum Trots in the United States. In Alabama, Kentucky, Missouri, Texas and Virginia. All of them desolate backwaters – what are referred to as an ‘unincorporated area’, which basically means that they are not really legally recognised as existing. In fact, all that is left of the one in Missouri is a one-room school, a house and a closed down general store. A ghost town, no less. The “Possum Trot” in which Kathy Rucker’s new play is set is fictional, but its title has a ring of truth about it, which is reflected in the natural and authentic depiction of the handful of oddballs that are clinging on to keep their community alive. On top of this, regular tornados further threaten to wipe the town completely off the map.

Rucker’s play explores the challenges encountered by one family as it faces the collapse of the farming community, the exodus of its population and the climate disasters raining down like military attacks, forcing the people to scuttle down to their basement on an almost daily basis. They’re a stoic lot, and humour fuels their determination to carry on. Rucker is focusing on the unpretentious simplicity of everyday life; and what we witness in the short hour-and-a-quarter is the eye of the storm. Aside from a couple of upturned chairs (which happens in blackout) “Possum Trot” is a gentle affair. Almost inconsequential. Like the town itself, it doesn’t appear to be going anywhere.

Maxine (Sarah Berger) runs the fort. Or rather, she runs the only diner in town. Reuben Speed’s set is the real thing. Brilliantly authentic, it transforms the whole space into Maxine’s diner come café come bar come local hub. Berger adds to the realism as she shuffles on in the dismal dawn’s early light to open up for the day, wearing her stoicism like a tattered apron. We think we are in the latter part of the twentieth century until Maxine’s extended family wander in wielding mobile phones and Instagram stories. In particular Neve Francis’ sprightly hypochondriac Billie – the granddaughter whose dream of escaping to art college is about to be realised, despite a very significant personal crisis that pops up – which is never really explored satisfactorily. The middle generation come in the form of chalk and cheese couple, Jeremiah (Nikolas Salmon) and Pru (Dani Arlington). Salmon represents the sense of tradition, desperate to live up to his father’s name, while Arlington’s Pru tries to drag him into the present and get him to sell up the farm. If the dwindling economy doesn’t soon kill off the cattle, the weather will. A comic moment involves the rescuing of a poor cow who finds itself on the roof after a particularly bad Kansas-like gale.

In the family’s midst is village local, Duane (Todd Boyce) and his stream of bad dad-jokes which repeatedly misfire, deliberately failing to puncture the chaotic dramas unfolding within the close-knit family. Scott Le Crass respectfully directs by playing down the drama, avoiding heightened histrionics. These are ordinary people after all, and the innate awkwardness of humdrum humanity is finely portrayed. It starts with a wake (Maxine is recently widowed), continues with a celebration (the diner is fifty years old) and ends with a joke (which unfortunately has little to do with the narrative).

Like the landlocked town of Possum Trot itself, Rucker’s play is neither here nor there. Yet there is an appealing, understated charm that does draw you in; like you’re discovering a single episode of a soap opera. We find ourselves wanting more. If only we could scroll through to the back stories, or forward to future instalments. And Hannah Bracegirdle’s country-tinged soundtrack is spot on; from Bruce Springsteen’s opening harmonica of ‘Nebraska’, through to the closing notes of Bob Dylan’s achingly beautiful ‘Shelter from the Storm’. This play won’t necessarily kick up a storm, but its mix of poignancy and humour is quietly soothing, like the muffled roll thunder heard from a safe distance.



POSSUM TROT

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 14th November 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Bonnie Britain


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

WODEHOUSE IN WONDERLAND  | ★★★★ | July 2025
THE BUSINESS OF MURDER | ★★★ | October 2024
DUET | ★★★ | April 2024
THE SECRET GARDEN | ★★★★ | December 2023
ABOUT BILL | ★★★★★ | August 2023

 

 

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT

POSSUM TROT