Tag Archives: theatre

MERE MORTALS

★★★½

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

MERE MORTALS

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

★★★½

“offers some truly beautiful and memorable moments”

Mere Mortals is a spectacular production that, from its very first moments, invites us into a new world: an apocalyptic landscape filled with darkness and an unsettling sense that something has already gone wrong.

Created by Aszure Barton, with music by Floating Points (Sam Shepherd), the production reimagines the ancient Greek myths of Prometheus and Pandora through the lens of technological advancement and artificial intelligence. Questions around AI feel like a driving impulse throughout the production, which follows a series of transformations without offering a positive or negative answer.

Hope, danced by Wei Wang, the first figure we encounter, introduces us to this unfamiliar world before Prometheus, danced by Joseph Walsh, brings his fire to humanity. Behind them, Hamill Industries’ impressive visuals, created through a combination of practical effects and AI-generated imagery, evoke fire imagery with elements of gold and organ-like forms, suggesting how deeply integrated technology can become into our own bodies, as well as its value and price.

Humans dressed in black follow Prometheus and the rhythms he establishes. Will this new fire bring light and enlightenment? Or will we eventually become indistinguishable from the technology, losing the individuality that makes us human?

The large ensemble is one of the production’s greatest strengths. With 40 dancers, their collective movement creates an extraordinary sense of scale and, at times, doom. They become almost one organism, which is particularly effective within the production’s exploration of technology, conformity and the loss of individuality.

Floating Points’ impressive electronic score, performed alongside the San Francisco Ballet Orchestra, moves beautifully between delicacy, tension and rage. Together, they create an interesting combination of earthly and alien sounds, with percussive and almost tribal elements grounding the ensemble while electronic textures create something unfamiliar. The music carries a strong sense of narrative, responding to the movement as the story moves from hope towards conflict and destruction.

The costumes by Michelle Jank similarly evolve with the narrative, moving from more organic and transitional forms towards increasingly robotic ones. The choreography follows this progression, introducing repetitive, angular and mechanical qualities. At its best, this creates a fascinating contradiction between the beauty of ballet and a world where human beings appear to be becoming machines.

One of the most beautiful moments comes when Pandora, danced by Jennifer Stahl, emerges from within the ensemble. The sudden shift into slowness is mesmerising. Stahl’s humanoid solo later also creates an intriguing tension between robotic movement and individuality. This reinterpretation of Pandora is particularly interesting: rather than simply presenting her as the woman responsible for unleashing evil, the production explores her curiosity, agency and relationship to progress.

However, the narrative occasionally feels less developed than the visual and musical worlds surrounding it. The duets, although they avoid conventional love-story language and contain Barton’s unpredictable elements, could still hold greater emotional depth and clearer dramatic stakes.

The visuals are impressive, but occasionally they almost overtake the dancers. At times, it feels as though the images arrive first and the bodies follow, rather than the movement driving the visual world. This may be intentional, particularly within a story about technology increasingly controlling human experience, or perhaps deliberately glitching that experience. If so, it might have needed a bit more intentional action or sound effects to better support it.

Ultimately, Mere Mortals offers some truly beautiful and memorable moments. Its greatest strength lies in the extraordinary ensemble, the compelling score and the tension between ballet’s physical beauty and a story questioning what makes us human.

The story is certainly worth telling, and there is plenty of room for the choreography and emotional narrative to go even bolder. Yet the production leaves us with a question that feels increasingly relevant: do we have control over who we are becoming?



MERE MORTALS

Sadler’s Wells Theatre

Reviewed on 9th September 2026

by Nasia Ntalla

Photography by Jane Hobson

 

 

 

 

 

MERE MORTALS

MERE MORTALS

MERE MORTALS

JANE EYRE

★★★½

Southwark Playhouse Elephant

JANE EYRE

Southwark Playhouse Elephant

★★★½

“captures Brontë’s spirit, even if it doesn’t quite match the novel’s force”

Twenty-six years after its Broadway premiere, ‘Jane Eyre: A Musical’ finally debuts in London with a stellar cast and striking staging. Though Jane’s journey and the score could dig deeper in places, the production captures the resilience and integrity of Brontë’s classic.

Escaping a bleak childhood, orphan Jane Eyre seeks freedom and independence as the governess of Thornfield Hall. But the enigmatic Mr Rochester soon tests her resolve as she struggles to reconcile mind with heart.

John Caird and Paul Gordon’s book and lyrics smartly streamline Charlotte Brontë’s revolutionary novel, sharpening the focus on Jane and Rochester’s arcs. That said, it further exposes Rochester’s controlling behaviour, leaving the triumphant finale feeling a little under-earned. I wonder if further trimming the post-Thornfield wanderings could create space for a more convincing sense of equality. Overall, it strikes an admirable balance between fidelity and modernisation.

Gordon’s score, under Ben Kubiak’s musical direction, beautifully captures the brooding atmosphere, weaving melancholy and foreshadowing throughout. My standout song is ‘Sweet Liberty’, perfectly conveying Jane’s restless yearning for self-determination – though a couple more earworms wouldn’t go amiss. Cuts to several supporting characters’ numbers tighten the narrative, while the shift from the haunting ‘Sirens’ to the emotionally charged ‘Secret Soul’ as Act One’s finale reminds us of the emotional gulf between Jane and Rochester.

Olivier and Tony Award-winning director John Caird joins forces with Megan McGinnis for a boldly Brechtian staging, using multi-roling, onstage costume changes and the ensemble to voice Jane’s inner thoughts. It’s an inventive way of honouring Brontë’s intensely personal perspective, though I wonder if sharing Jane’s voice dilutes the very self-discovery it seeks to illuminate. Even so, Georgina Lamb’s fluid choreography and the ensemble’s ghostlike presence create a powerful sense of spectral guidance, making for a striking production.

Morgan Large’s evocative design shrouds the production in gothic melancholy, channelling the loneliness and turmoil at its heart. Layered monochrome costumes enable seamless multi-roling while reinforcing the dark atmosphere. Andrew Johnson’s crystal-clear sound design and precisely judged effects add texture, while James Whiteside’s restrained lighting makes every shaft of warmth feel hard-won.

The strong ensemble cast is slick and assured, shifting effortlessly between multiple roles. Charlie Burn makes a compelling Jane, balancing quiet determination with moments of defiance, with a voice that soars like a bird. Ashley Gilmour’s Rochester brings brooding charisma and emotional turmoil, with a richly sonorous voice. Isabelle Methven shines in the contrasting roles of saintly Helen and spirited Bessie, while Emily-Rose Samuel (sharing the role with Poppy Jason) impresses as Young Jane/Adele, combining a bright voice with remarkable maturity.

After finally crossing the Atlantic, Caird and Gordon’s ‘Jane Eyre: A Musical’ captures Brontë’s spirit, even if it doesn’t quite match the novel’s force. Still, its ghostly atmosphere and strong performances make it well worth a visit.



JANE EYRE

Southwark Playhouse Elephant

Reviewed on 8th September 2026

by Hannah Bothelton

Photography by Victoria Davies

 


 

 

 

 

JANE EYRE

JANE EYRE

JANE EYRE