★★★

“its infectious silliness makes for lots of big laughs”

A misinterpretation of the film ‘Jurassic Park’ sets off a Kafkaesque nightmare of university bureaucracy and conspiracy in Tim Foley’s ‘Jurassic’ at the Soho Theatre. The two-hander pits the stubborn, righteously deluded Dean of the University, ‘Dean’, against the increasingly exasperated academic Jay, driven to derangement by a misunderstanding that is costing him his sanity, as well as his job. There are plenty of fun and silly jokes in this very taut one-act play, but the balance between the far-fetched absurdist concept and genuine critique of elitism and bureaucracy is a tricky one. It can be a challenge to suspend disbelief and feel invested in Jay’s Sisyphean battle to be reinstated in the face of a post-truth campus culture.

Matt Holt’s Dean and Alastair Michael’s Jay are perfect foils for each-other, as their initial conflict – Dean’s belief that the film Jurassic Park is indeed a documentary revealing the existence of dinosaurs- costs Jay his job in the palaeontology department. The university provides an ideal setting for a tale of misinformation and power politics, with funding cuts, a perpetually absent principal, staff feuds and spilled secrets all occurring in the background. The absurd central misunderstanding demands the audience’s commitment to the bit, which we can enthusiastically give – but Dean’s initial delusion is resolved quite quickly, and this leaves space to wonder about the script’s practical corner-cutting. Questions like “Why has there been no mention of an employment tribunal?” and “Can you actually campaign to be chancellor of the university you’ve just been fired from?” plague the mind. But maybe that’s just the bureaucrat in me.

Meanwhile, particular praise must be given to movement director Yandass Ndlovu’s transition scenes, which see Dean and Jay devolve and spar with each other as prehistoric creatures. These scenes free up the play to jump forward in time effortlessly, as well as harkening back to the good old days when creatures could squawk, scratch and lunge at each other without all the red tape. Anna Short and Patch Middleton’s sound design bring a purposefully minimal, quotidian office setting to life in tense and climatic moments, and there is some great work with onstage lighting when the rivals’ feud becomes more akin to a police interrogation.

Piers Black’s slick direction means that the tug of war between Dean and Jay never grows slack. But to create forward propulsion while the characters remain locked in this stubborn power dynamic, the play introduces higher and higher stakes that occasionally deviate in tone from the play’s absurd concept. There’s a murder, which remains darkly comic but feels a little crowbarred in. Subsequently, a reveal about Jay’s own misdeeds, which have been subtly alluded to with his frequenting of student bars, do make it quite difficult to maintain the sympathy for his character that has swept the audience along on his futile journey. As the play reaches its climax, any catharsis we might feel on his behalf is marred slightly, and although the ending comes satisfying full-circle, it does stretch the possibilities of play’s universe a bit too far to feel entirely earned.

Foley’s play clearly relishes in its absurd concept, and its infectious silliness makes for lots of big laughs. Still, I think there is more satirical material to mine from this recognisable tale of faculty politics, without the introduction of some tonal inconsistencies and the completely off-the-rails plot developments, however gratifying they may be.

LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic”

Opening Soho Theatre’s New Theatre season, Little Brother is a darkly comic portrait of two siblings bound by love, guilt, and the impossible weight of care. In a country where stories of the NHS’s decline feel almost routine, writer Eoin McAndrew turns that familiar crisis inward, exploring how systemic failure plays out in the intimate space between those who are sick and those who must keep them alive.

The story centres on Niall, a young man in recovery following an act of self-immolation, and his older sister Brigid, drafted into the exhausting role of carer with little idea where to start. Their relationship, unfolding over the course of Niall’s recovery, forms the beating heart of the play — fraught, funny, and unbearably tender.

McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic, capturing both the absurdity and the agony of navigating a system that can feel more bureaucratic than humane. Some of the play’s most affecting moments lie in its portrayal of how dehumanising treatment can be: Niall is told how desperately he needs help, only to learn there’s a twelve-month waiting list; he’s restricted from watching films that involve fire; and his sister is cautioned more about her language than given guidance on how to support him. McAndrew mines these absurdities for both laughs and quiet despair. It’s a bleak world, but never a joyless one.

At times, the script veers into overt commentary on the state of the NHS, moments where the play briefly preaches what it otherwise shows so effectively, but it mostly remains grounded in the human cost: the fumbling attempts of two damaged people trying, and often failing, to understand each other.

Cormac McAlinden and Catherine Rees anchor the production beautifully as Niall and Brigid, bringing real warmth and volatility to their scenes as siblings who love one another but are often at the end of their tether. McAlinden’s fragile charm makes Niall easy to root for even at his most self-sabotaging, while Rees captures Brigid’s fatigue and frustration without ever losing her compassion. Supporting player Laura Dos Santos makes the most of a smaller role, while Conor O’Donnell is a genuine scene-stealer as Brigid’s awkward on-again, off-again boyfriend, Michael Doran — his emotionally stunted banter providing some of the biggest laughs of the night. The costume design (Ellen Rey De Castro) complements his performance perfectly, adding further humour through a few playful, telling choices.

Emma Jordan’s direction keeps everything grounded, allowing the dark comedy to land without undercutting its emotional truth. Her restraint pays off in the more shocking moments, which feel all the more authentic for their understatement.

The ambitious set design (Zoë Hurwitz) cleverly divides the stage into four distinct rooms — each stark and bleak, yet shaped differently to create a cross-section of domestic life. Jordan uses this to her advantage, making scenes feel claustrophobic one moment and open the next. The cold blues and fluorescent strip lighting (Bethany Gupwell) provide a constant reminder of the sterile hospital world that haunts, but rarely helps, Niall’s recovery. All of this is underpinned by a largely effective sound design (Katie Richardson), which underscores key transitions with a low, menacing pulse, subtly heightening the sense of urgency as the play hurtles toward its finale.

A compelling production, Little Brother is a darkly comic study of care and co-dependence — as funny as it is quietly devastating. McAndrew, Jordan and their cast craft a portrait of sibling love tested by mental health and the buckling state apparatus that can no longer support it, delivering a play that feels both painfully current and profoundly human.

JURASSIC

Soho Theatre

★★★

“its infectious silliness makes for lots of big laughs”

JURASSIC

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 20th November 2025

by Emily Lipscombe

Photography by Chris Payne

Recently reviewed at Soho Theatre venues:

JURASSIC

JURASSIC

JURASSIC

LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

★★★★

“McAndrew’s writing is sharp and empathetic”

LITTLE BROTHER

Soho Theatre

Reviewed on 22nd October 2025

by Daniel Outis

Photography by Camilla Greenwell

Previously reviewed at Soho Theatre venues:

LITTLE BROTHER

LITTLE BROTHER

LITTLE BROTHER

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