Tag Archives: The Place

TELL ME

★★★★

The Place

TELL ME

The Place

★★★★

“imaginative and full of striking choices”

Forty-five years on from the AIDS crisis, HIV still carries significant stigma despite being fully treatable. Fresh from its 2025 world premiere, ‘Tell Me’ arrives in London determined to challenge outdated misconceptions. Blending circus, dance and theatre, it’s tender yet unflinching, offering hope without compromising honesty. Even in its evolving form, its 2026 tour demands attention – it might just save a life.

It’s 2026 and Grace receives a diagnosis she never imagined – HIV. Through modern eyes, we reach back to those who endured the 1980s AIDS crisis, honouring their legacy while confronting lingering misconceptions and looking towards a more hopeful future.

Produced by Turtle Key Arts, Sadiq Ali Company unveils a new iteration of ‘Tell Me’, devised by Sadiq Ali (the Company’s Artistic Director), Phoebe Knight and Jonah Russell, with dramaturgy by Rishi Trikha and choreography consultancy from Jonathan Lunn and Junior Cunningham. The potent blend of Chinese pole, aerial, dance and theatre feels effortlessly cohesive. Circus elements add real jeopardy: a standout moment involves Ali slipping from a cube with no safety – a gripping image of turmoil and struggle. The sparing use of speech lands with real weight, with cheers, grunts and quiet sobs conveying rare realism for a dance led work. Queer joy sits exactly where it should, celebrating life alongside pain.

That said, the narrative could be clearer. A plastic shroud reads like misinformed 1980s post-mortem practices, making Ali’s later scenes feel like new characters rather a continuous arc. A demonic figure’s surreal demeanour clashes with the otherwise grounded tone. The past–present contrast could go further: the modern day arc feels less defined, and the masked doctor’s blunt delivery of Grace’s diagnosis undercuts the idea of improved care. Overall, though, there’s powerful work here.

Devised by Ali, Knight and Russell, with associate direction from Hauk Pattison, the show is confidently steered. The opening sequence of pulsing, spinning Chinese pole cages lands with real force, immediately establishing a visual language that becomes a character in its own right. The final, gentler montage serves as a homecoming. The storytelling feels authentic (demonic detour aside), and the inventive use of Chinese poles as set and apparatus brings the world to life. That said, a couple of scenes could be tightened, such as Grace’s languid penultimate scene, and one bit of blocking distractingly places Ali and Russell behind moving set. Overall though the direction is imaginative and full of striking choices.

Ali, Knight and Russell deliver emotionally charged performances, moving authentically between joy, anguish and everything in between. Ali is especially magnetic, offering a masterful mix of strength, subtlety and emotional depth. Knight and Russell deliver thoughtful, affecting performances while pulling off impressive physical feats, though a couple of moments could be tightened to maintain the intentionality behind the rawness.

Aslı Özüak’s scenography has a stark, elegant simplicity, letting the Chinese poles command the space as they come to life. The nested cube design is inspired, shifting between set, cage and shelter, and tiny cubes as HIV diagnoses are a brilliant touch. Özüak’s costumes are sharply judged and drive the narrative. The 80s looks are effortlessly chic, and red for the HIV awareness ribbon threads thoughtfully through. The only less assured moment is the overly contrasting devil. Guy Veale’s sound design is potent, creating a sharply attuned and vivid soundscape that balances realism, abstraction, cheekiness and sobriety. A couple of transitions land slightly late, but the overall execution is strong. Jamie Heseltine’s lighting is beautifully judged with a keen instinct for when to let darkness speak. Light searching through shadow is especially evocative, and bold touches – a burst of strobe, a backlit smoke box – add real texture.

Though still evolving, ‘Tell Me’ tackles its subject with a maturity and tenderness that already resonate deeply. I’m excited to see how it develops and highly recommend catching it on tour.

 



TELL ME

The Place

Reviewed on 23rd January 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Alberto Santos Bellido


 

 

 

 

TELL ME

TELL ME

TELL ME

LITTLE M

★★★½

The Place

LITTLE M

The Place

★★★½

“with refinement, this heartfelt script has potential to really soar”

Have you ever felt out of place, not knowing why? ‘Little M’ lovingly transforms Hans Christian Andersen’s ‘The Little Mermaid’ into a tender celebration of gender-diverse identities. Aimed at children but with something for everyone, this production is touching, beautiful, and deeply affirming. While there’s room for refinement, it deserves to be seen by everyone – just like Little M.

Caught between worlds, Little M is different. When a suitcase of shimmering human gowns drifts into the grotto, M delights in how wearing them makes them feel – until Grandmother swiftly confiscates everything. Grandmother urges M to focus on their impending coming-of-age ceremony. Excited to finally receive their oyster shells, M longs to place them on their tail like their sister, not their throat as is custom. Once again, Grandmother insists on conforming. When the big day arrives, celebration quickly becomes discomfort as M’s oyster necklace feels suffocating. In a moment of courage, M flees for the human world, starting a journey of self-discovery that leads them to their truth.

Luke Skilbeck (writer and co-director) and Anders Duckworth (co-director) adapt Hans Christian Andersen’s classic tale, using the mermaid’s liminal existence as a poignant metaphor for gender-diverse experience. With sensitivity and soul, the story affirms gender-diverse lives as natural and beautiful. It explores profound themes with striking emotional clarity for a children’s show. The ending is a compelling reminder of why stories like this are still so important, offering hope and belonging to those who need it most.

However, not everything lands. The mix of on- and offstage voices, while conceptually bold, sometimes disrupts pacing. Mid-conversation shifts between dialogue and dance feel a little disjointed in places. The beachcombing crab is amusing but underdeveloped. A couple of plot points lack clarity, such as M’s first encounter with the Prince and the delayed significance of the multicolour chokers. Still, with refinement, this heartfelt script has potential to really soar.

Duckworth’s choreography blends mime with a range of dance styles, including Indian classical, ballet and contemporary, to craft a rich, expressive narrative. The child-friendly emphasis on accessible movement is balanced by moments of subtlety. A standout moment is the inventive two-person witch, lending the character an eerie, otherworldly presence. Still, some moments – like two somewhat static swimming sequences – would benefit from more dynamic choreography to really elevate the piece.

Nicole Raymond and NikNak’s composition and sound design drive the emotional landscape, elevating the choreography with precision and flair. Their score moves fluidly between rhythmic drive and atmospheric subtlety, using music and ambient soundscapes to shift the energy and deepen the storytelling.

Dancers Jose Funnell, Áine Reynolds, Naissa Bjørn, and Tylee Jones bring vivid characterisation to the stage, highlighting their versatility across styles and emotional registers. Their expressive performances make each character feel fully realised and relatable, though a touch more precision, such as finishing the lines, would sharpen the overall impact.

E. M. Parry’s design – supported by set design associate Kit Hinchliffe, costume associate Eve Oakley, and puppet co-designer Scamp Niemz – is out of this world. The rich and imaginative visual world conjures sea and shore with striking simplicity. Staging, costumes, puppets, props, and set feel meticulously crafted yet effortlessly fluid. Repurposed sea debris evokes the ocean with texture and authenticity while gesturing cleverly to the climate crisis, finding unexpected beauty in the most mundane objects. Carey Chomsoonthorn’s lighting design is stunning, conjuring land and sea with beauty. Whether illuminating the serenity of the shoreline or the characters’ inner turmoil, the lighting adds depth and texture with remarkable sensitivity. The overall design effect is magical.

‘Little M’ is an imaginative, emotionally resonant piece inviting audiences of all ages to engage with complex themes. While there’s room for refinement, its spirit sings, honest and undeniable. This is bold, beautiful, and necessary theatre, and I’m excited to see how it grows.



LITTLE M

The Place

Reviewed on 24th October 2025

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Camilla Greenwell


 

Previously reviewed at this venue:

JAZZ CONVERSATIONS | ★★★★★ | September 2024

 

 

LITTLE M

LITTLE M

LITTLE M